#jace x you

[beary-rambles]

Sneaking around

r.q: Hii I was wondering if you could do a Jacerys x twin!reader. Where they have been betrothed since they were young, and as the grow up they start slightly falling for each other. And one night she sneaks into his room and they explore themselves 👀can it be smut aswell. 💕🙏

w.c: 3.2k

c.w: porn with plot, misunderstandings, oral (f), p in v, very inaccurate first time, loss of virginity, jacaerys is an idiot, not proofread, supportive daemon, happy ending, avoids use of y/n, talks of baela/jacaerys

part two

You and jacaerys were inseparable ever since you were born. You two did practically everything together. You ate together, you sat and watched him train while he would sit with you and watch you stich. It was hard to separate the two of you. Your mother even told you when you were very young you would cry if you even lost sight of him and they had to bring him to you to comfort you. 

You had thought nothing of it, not until you had reached the age of three and ten when your mother announced you were to marry him. You could not even process this news as seemingly right after came the news of lady laena’s death and funeral then very soon after the marriage between your mother and daemon. 

When you could finally have a moment to breathe back at dragonstone you tried to turn to jacaerys but he seems to be avoiding you at all costs. More interested in spending his day with baela and lucerys. You couldn't even get along with him let alone speak a word to him without him dodging you and mumbling something about being busy before walking away and most of the time he would be spotted talking with baela and it broke you. 

You began spending more time with Rhaena and Joffrey instead. Joffrey was far too young to even understand why you were upset but rhaena did and did her best to try and cheer you up.

It was hard to move past it but It got easier as the years went on and he still refused to even glance at you. 

“Do you think she will call off the betrothal if I ask her too?” you were now eight and one after your recent name day and dread filled you as you realized you were getting closer and closer to marrying jacaerys. You two still did not talk, you had given up trying to speak to him a long time ago. 

Daemon who was casualing sitting next to you takes a sip out of his goblet, “why ever would you ask her to?” 

You do not lift your head to look at him with his curious stare and continued to stare at the game board in front of you, picking up one of the pieces before answering,

“He does not like me, it would be better for both of us if he married someone else,” you place the piece down before answering him, “like baela.”

He laughs, he laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach, “it is not funny.”

He wipes a tear from his face as he manages to calm down. “You're right it is hilarious.”

You scoff and cross your arms, “i knew i shouldn't have brought it up-”

“No no, please continue why do you think he likes baela?” He seemingly picks up a random piece from the board and moves it before leaning back on his chair and looking at you expectantly. “Why should I not? When we had been betrothed the first thing he did was decide he wanted nothing to do with me since. Even on our shared name day he says nothing to me except simply wishing me well. He spends every waking moment with her, and when he is not with her he is with my brothers and simply acts like i do not exist he does not even extend me a good morning or a good night for gods sake!” one of your hands slam down on the table in front of you, the board pieces moving but not falling over and you only grow more and more annoyed at the amused look on his face. 

“You are in love with him.” “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You do not deny it.” you angrily move another piece of yours on the board and lean back on your chair as he does.

“It doesn't matter he does not like me. I shall bring it up to mother anyway since you are of no help.” 

He chuckles to himself as a servant enters the room to inform him rhaenyra requests his presence. He shakes his head as he stands moving one of his pieces before turning back to you. “Give it time Issa dōna.”

It is the last thing he says before he is led out the room. You glance down at the board and throw your head back with a sigh.

He had won.

—

“She plans to ask your mother to cancel the betrothal.”

Jacaerys freezes his head whipping around to look at daemon who was standing closely behind him. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

Daemon laughs, “you sister. She plans to have your betrothal called off.” 

“Why?” 

“Gods you really are foolish boy.”

Jacaerys always believed you to be his better half. While he was more temperamental and hot headed you always seemed to be so rational and so kind. When he heard of your betrothal the first thing he felt was excitement, but it soon turned into fear as he began to worry he would not be a well suited husband to you. He began to spend more time with baela and his mother who taught him how to be a kind and honorable young man and in turn he had begun to ignore you out of fear of ruining your relationship. He had never thought you would turn around and ask for the engagement to be dissolved. 

“You should act quick, she seems rather determined to be rid of you.”

Daemon could barely finish his sentence as he watches jacaerys march out of the room and a smile falls on his face. 

– 

You almost jump out of your seat as the doors of the room you resided in busted open. You moved to a balcony and had been reading. You clutch your book to your chest as you lock eyes with a seemingly out of breath jacaerys who lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing you.

“Jacaerys?”

“Sister, good day.”

You have no clue what to say. This is the first to who knows how long he had come up and approached you himself. All you could do is nod your head as you went back to reading your book.

“Could I sit with you?”

You hum and he takes that as a que to take a seat right next to you. You attempt to focus on the words in the book in front of you but you feel his stare burning into the side of your face you can't help but to feel flustered and the words are nothing but a blur. 

“Would you not rather be hanging out with others?”

After a few moments of silence you cut through it like a knife without looking up at him you continue to feel him stare at you. 

“Who ever could you mean?”

You scoff, aggressively turning the page despite the fact you had not read a single word on the previous one. 

“Oh I don't know, baela perhaps.”

“Baela? I believe she's busy today. But what does she have to do with-” “Oh so you are finally spending time with me because your precious baela is busy?”

“Where is this coming from?”

You stand and take the book under your arm as he stands up as well looking at you alarmed, “y/n..”

Gods, you missed him. You missed the way he said your name.

“I must go i have a meeting with mother i must attend to,”

He looks alarmed and grabs your arm before you can rush past him, “you must not speak with her.”

He grabs your other arm and pulls you close to him so you are forced to lock eyes with him as you feel your breath leave you. He has a desperate look about him, a wash of guilt and sadness over his eyes. 

“I do not deserve it such as i do not deserve you but i must beg for your forgiveness for my transgressions. I have been a bad brother and in part a bad partner but I must beg you to give me another chance. I know I shall never deserve you and I should not have stayed away from you for so long but I was worried you would begin to resent me so I sought out to become a man you would grow to l- grow to enjoy spending your life with. I am sorry. I shall work everyday to earn back your favor and to earn back your trust but I must beg you to not dissolve what has been written in stone between us.”

A tear must have found its way out of your eye as he brings one of his hands to wipe it away, his eyes never straying from yours. “Jace..”

He smiles and leans his forehead against your and takes a deep breath. “I beg of you. Allow me to fall and grovel at your feet for your forgiveness.”

“You're not just going to ask me for it?”

“I do not deserve such an easy fate. You must do me the honor of earning it.”

You laugh and your smile grows as he also begins to smile.

– 

A switch from never seeing jacaerys to practically seeing him all waking hours of your day was a dramatic change. When you awoke he would be waiting for you by the door to walk you to breakfast where he would sit next to you and he would request you come and watch him practice with lucerys and you would try and not laugh as he practically threw the younger boy around like a rag. 

The more and more time you spent with jacaerys the more brave he would become. When the two of you would walk he would place his hand on your back and slide it down almost low enough to be scandalous oh he would pull you into a empty corridor of the keep before dinner and just run his hands up and down your sides as he nudges his head into your neck, seeming content with simply just touching you as such. 

Despite the fact he seemed content, you grew more restless. You wanted him. No, you needed him at this point. Finally having him in your grasp after many years you could barely keep control of yourself when you were around him, wanting nothing more than to jump in his lap and let him have you.

One night you're restless in your bed, turning side to side unable to ignore the ache that resided between your legs and groan as you run your hands along your face. 

You decided to fuck it and just go visit him. Throwing on a cloak and don't even bother to tie it, keeping a firm grip on his with one hand as you walk out of your room and as quietly as you can begin to make your way down the hall down the very familiar path to jacaerys room. 

You begin to rethink your choice as you stare down his door, your bare feet cold on the harsh flooring of the keep. You could see light peeking out from under his door telling you he was still up despite the later hour and against your better judgment you raise your hand and lightly knock on his door. 

You hear a chair scrap and feet paddling towards the door until the door opens and you're met with his shocked face.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” He quickly peeks his head out and looks around the hallway before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the room.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?!? Where you could have been seen, what would mother think?” 

“I'm sorry..”

You hang your head and jacaerys sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get angry. I am just worried about your reputation.” 

He walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him. You finally notice something, he’s shirtless. You should have noticed that sooner, of course he would be shirtless. You know most men sleep shirtless. Why would he be any different? 

He takes notice of your gaze and flushes, you take notice of the red beginning to shine on his ears and on his cheeks. 

“I am so sorry allow me to go cover myself-”

You grab his cheeks and he freezes. In your rush for him not to leave your side you forget about your cloak and it falls to the ground.

You gasp and move closer to him as a chill washes over you.

“y/n…”

His hands grip your waist and pull you right up against him and he drops his head into your neck and leaves a kiss there.

“Tell me to stop at once.” he continues to kiss your neck over and over as he runs his hands up and down your sides and you shudder.

“I demand you ask me to stop.”

His lips trail their way up your jaw and his hands rest against your cheek, “why must i?” “For your honor you must push me away for I fear I desire you far too much, it is improper.” 

“Jace.”

He groans and stops himself from kissing your lips, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing heavily.

“You must push me away.”

You decide to be bold and push your lips against his and he grips your face with his hands, kissing you frivolously.

Your hands find their way onto his chest and slide down under the band of his pants and he groans, his lips sliding off of yours, a trail of saliva falls between you as his head falls into your neck.

“Please, my love please.” he whines as his hips thrust against your hands. You had snuck away and read many a book about what a man and woman do in bed, especially after reconciling with jacaerys, and you wrap your hands around his dick and take your rub to rub around to the tip of it. He groans into your ear and suckles your neck. You use the seemingly constant flowing precum to pump up and down, taking pleasure in the way he whines and moans in your ear.

“You are too kind to me.” he slurs in your ear as you smile and work faster, “i only wish to please you, would you rather me get on my knees?”

You squeal as he rips your hands off him and lifts you up and carries you over the bed, “as thrilling as that view would be, I would much rather be pleasing you my love.”

He lays you down on the bed and gets on his knees pulling you closer to the edge, once he gets closer he lays his head against your thigh and admires you. “You did not come wearing anything under your gown?”

You cover your face with embarrassment, “do you think me desperate?” 

He shakes his head as he moves closer, “no, i am much worse.”

He licks a long strip up your core and grips your hips down with his hands as he eats as if he had never eaten anything before.

Your hands grip his long curly hair and you can barely contain your moans as you try to push him even closer to you.

“How are you so good at this?”

He hums against you sending chills down your spine, “I imagined this more than I would like to admit.” His words are muffled as he continues to assault on your clit but you can understand him clearly and moan even louder. He does not care, if anything he seems to encourage you by not faltering even for a second, if you could have any coherent thoughts you would wonder how he could breathe.

Your grip grows tighter in his hair and your hips fight against his hands as you grow closer and you feel him smile against you. “Come for me, I wish to taste it.”

And you do and he takes his time licking up each and every single drop before kissing his way up and climbs on top of you and smiles at you. His hands fondle your breasts on top of your nightgown, “could you take it off me?” 

Once the two of you are sat up he bunches up the bottom of your gown, “lift your hips for me.” he easily slides the gown up and off of you. His eyes glow as they rack over your body, “you are the most beautiful women in the whole world. I shall never deserve you.” 

He kisses you before standing up and sliding his bottoms off, you do not get any time to admire his form before he is already climbing over you once more and kissing you again.

“Please jace do not tease me.”

“I should prep you more-”

“I dont care”

“It will hurt-”

“All I want is you, please.” He looks worried but gives in as you feel his dick slap against you and you moan as you grip his shoulders.

“Please tell me if it hurts too much.”

It does hurt. It hurts like hell. A part of you almost tells him to stop pushing into you but you power through until you feel him bottom out. You two sit there for a while, the only sounds being your gasping breaths and his strained groans as he seems to be holding himself back. 

Once the pain seems to subside you test with a move of your hips causing him to moan out. “Do not do that.” “You can move.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please do.”

He is slow at first, so slow you can feel every vein up against your walls and you tighten around him and he hisses. As he continues to move your moans seemingly motivate him to begin to move faster and faster until he is rutting into you like he cannot control himself any longer. 

You sloppily leave kisses on his neck as your hands grip his back, you are so overwhelmed, all the feelings you hold towards your twin rushing towards you at full force.

“I love you.”

He stops, out of breath he grips your face with his hands, “what?”

Tears flood your face as you stare at him, you thought he never looked so beautiful. “I love you.”

He leans down and kisses away your tears as he begins to move once again, “I love you so much so so so much my sweet.”

In your rush of emotions you came yet he continues to kiss all over your face and your neck until as he did earlier his head slumps into your neck. “Where do you want me to-”

“In me please I beg of you. I need to feel it.”

And so he does. The two of you stay like that for a while, completely out of breath and covered in sweat. One of his hands comes to your cheek once more and caresses it as he lays a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much.”

“And i love you.”

[sapphire-writes]

Sweet Fruit ~ Jace x Snow!Reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

summary: You and Prince Jacaerys cannot stay away from each other, no matter how much you need to.

rating: 18+ (detailed warnings below the cut)

note: specifically for my love @osferthsbussy😘

warnings: p in v, spanking, choking, size k*nk lowkey, slight humiliation, punishment, fem receiving oral, breeding kink

Since the encounter in your chambers, you waited with bated breath for Prince Jacaerys to arrive at your door later that night. You’d taken a hot bath to prepare, lathering yourself in sweet oils and wrapping yourself in your favorite shift. 

You seated yourself in front of the fire, wrapped in furs, and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

The night grew longer and your candles burned until the wicks were spent, a hole gnawed in your gut at your empty bed. 

You try not to appear too disappointed, though you do not see the Prince for several days after this incident. He has gone with Cregan to hunt, and does not return for nearly a week’s time. Even then, he avoids you, until Cregan announced a feast at the week’s end. 

There was no avoiding you then. You’d dressed in your best gown for the occasion, a deep maroon, with an exceptionally tight bodice. Your brother, with the dragon prince by his side, greeted you as you entered the hall.  

“Surely you’ve heard the news sister,” Cregan says while embracing you.

Your eyes flicker to Jacaerys before you shake your head. 

“We shall ride south, in the name of the true Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Cregan tells you, lifting his goblet high. 

You smile incredulously, eyes flickering toward the prince, who shall not meet your eyes.

“Congratulations, my prince,” you tell him bitterly, “The North is truly yours.”

Jace mumbles a thank you, nodding his head politely. He is nothing if not a gentleman. 

“I suppose you must be thrilled to head back to your betrothed,” Cregan says, clasping a hand on his back, “I understand Lady Baela was not pleased with your plans to wed her after the war, rather than before.”

“No, she was not,” Jace agreed, brown eyes finally meeting yours.

“She may rest easy knowing you shall be wed soon,” Cregan says, smashing his goblet against Jace’s, “For when the wolves ride south, we shall take your mother’s throne back within the fortnight!”

The hall cheers at Cregan’s words but your eyes are locked on Jace’s. What about me, your eyes ask. What about me? 

“Congratulations again, my prince,” you tell him, smiling tightly and curtseying. 

You turn away from him, moving into the crowd, but you feel his presence close on your heels.

“Y/N-”

“I’m sure Lady Baela is wonderful,” you tell him, “She shall make a lovely bride.”

Jace reaches out, grabbing your arm. You stop, looking back at him, eyes flickering from his hand that clings to you to his face.

“Careful, my prince,” you tell him, tugging yourself free, “Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong impression.”

You continue moving away from him, deciding to spend the rest of the night dancing, frolicking about, and kissing any man and woman you can get your hands on. Greedy, bastard girl, that’s what you are after all isn’t it? Nothing more, nothing less, least of all to the son of the heir to the Iron Throne.

Hours later a knock comes at your door. You pout, having been ready to drink yourself to a state of dreamless sleep, before opening the door. Jace pushes his way instead, closing the door swiftly behind him. You move away from his grabbing hands, unable to keep the disappointment from your face.

“Careful,” you tell him, “Someone could see. Wouldn’t want any word getting back to your lady wife, now would we?”

Jace stands by the door, hands curled into fists by his side, lower lip held firmly between his teeth. You watch him through watery eyes. His hair has grown longer since his time at Winterfell, the curls falling onto his shoulders. Your hands twitch at your sides; you’d like nothing more than to run your fingers through them.

“What are you doing?” he asks, softly.

“I’ve no idea what you-”

“No,” Jace interrupts, his voice calm, “What are you doing?”

You don’t speak. You just watch him, heart beating erratically in your chest. 

“You’re leaving Winterfell,” you tell him.

“Yes,” he says, brown eyes meeting yours.

“Leaving me,” you clarify and he doesn’t answer this time.

You scoff, moving to fill a goblet with wine.

“You’ve acted inappropriately,” Jace tells you, “Tarnishing your reputation, your name-”

“Snow?” you ask, “Tis already tarnished. A bastard is born stained. I shall be this way all my life.”

His nose twitches. 

“As shall you,” you hiss.

“The words you speak are treasonous,” he tells you.

“Kill me then,” you demand, “You rather enjoyed my treacherous mouth the other night.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but his voice trails off.

“Lie to yourself all you want,” you tell him, stepping closer, “Go to Dragonstone, marry Baela, father a dozen silver babes, and die.”

Your lip trembles, the word die coming out in almost a whine. Jace looks at you, eyes flickering about your face. He brings his hand to your cheek, stroking away a tear that falls. You close your eyes, trying to turn your face away but he holds your cheek firmly.

“Die,” you repeat, and he brings his hand to cup your other cheek, “Die.”

His lips are on yours and he greedily swallows your heated threat, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You kiss him back, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulling him against you. It’s hungry and needy and aggressive but you don’t care. In here he is yours; within the walls of Winterfell, he belongs to you. 

You tumble backward onto the furs of your bed, letting his weight fall on top of you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You move to remove his clothes, nails scratching at him desperately, one hand winding in his curls. Your center aches without him, you need him inside you desperately.

You’re not a maiden, haven’t been for some time. You’d gifted your maidenhead to a sellsword from White Harbor years ago.

Jace grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head, breathing heavily as his eyes meet yours. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, night shift bunched at your middle. 

“You’ve not been kind this evening,” he murmurs in a rough voice, “You’ve tormented me yet again.”

“Tis because you are mine to torment,” you hiss, and he brings a hand to rest at your throat.

“When shall you learn?” he asks, applying the slightest pressure, “What must I do to make you behave?”

“Your cock is a good start,” you tease, feeling the mood begin to lighten, the heat beginning to pool between your thighs. 

“You’re a mad woman,” he says, connecting your mouths once more in a passionate kiss. 

As soon as he kisses you, he moves from on top of you, dragging you across his lap. 

“You do require a lesson,” he tells you, moving your small clothes from your bottom half.

Your breath hitches as your small clothes pool around your ankles. Jace brings his hand down, harshly spanking you, the sound echoing like the cracking logs of your fire. He continues spanking you, one brutal slap after the other, his large hands squeezing and rubbing your aching cheeks between each blow. 

You can feel yourself dripping on his thigh, the delicious sting only fueling the ache between your thighs. Your whimpers and sharp cries only spur Jace on as he continues to deliver your punishment. 

“Tis not even a punishment,” Jace says, clicking his tongue and running a finger along your soaked folds, “Look how wet you are.”

He releases you then and you crawl off him, slumping to the floor. Humiliation tingles through you as you glance up at him. Jace runs his fingers against his leather-clad thigh, gathering the wetness that pooled there. 

His eyes flicker to your face.

“Clean me up,” he orders.

You pause for a moment, before reaching for a handkerchief. 

“With your mouth,” he instructs. 

You blush scarlet, surprised by his lewd command. But you do as you’re told, positioning yourself between his thighs, bringing your mouth to his leather pants. You lick and suckle, tasting your arousal, whimpering as Jace moves some hair from your face. He’s soon satisfied, pulling your face away and kissing you, dragging you back to straddle him. 

“Fuck I love the taste of you,” he says, sucking on your lower lip, “I couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink knowing this is what awaited me.”

He flips you onto your back, kneeling between your legs.

“How does one go back to the food of this realm when they’re tasted ambrosia?” he murmurs, moaning as his mouth covers your dripping slit. 

A strangled cry rips through your lungs as his tongue curls against your inner walls. He laps his tongue against you desperately, as though he’s been wandering around the sandy dunes of Dorne, with nothing to quench his thirst. Though he enjoys the sounds you make with his tongue buried as deep as it can go inside of you, he prefers the small moans and pants that are elicited when he circles the tip of his tongue around your needy pearl. 

He settles there, at the top of your mound, suckling in your pearl in his mouth until you’re crying out, scraping your nails against his scalp hard enough to draw blood. 

Jace moves to lay on top of you, his nose brushing against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him against you. 

“Please,” you murmur, “Please, please.”

His brown eyes meet yours, lips brushing against your own as you keep whispering into his mouth. 

“Your maidenhead-”

“I’m hardly a maiden,” you admit, cheeks rosy with the confession.

Jace looks at you, eyes wide, not with judgement, but with something else.

“I…” he begins, “I have never…” he trails off, blush blooming on his cheeks.

You smile softly, smoothing his curls away from his face. 

“You mean to tell me you are a maiden, my prince?” you softly tease, nails trailing down the side of his throat.

“I just have never…” he struggles to find the words, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

A giggle leaves your lips and Jace finds himself chuckling as well before capturing your lips in a heated kiss once more. You bring your hands to his breaches, feeling the hardness of his manhood eagerly pressing against the constraints of his pants. You free his cock with ease, letting it slap against your hand before wrapping your fingers around him. 

A shiver rolls through you at his the thickness of him, the arousal pooling between your legs even more so at the thought of him inside of you. 

“Will it…” Jace asks, face scrunching in pleasure as you stroke him, “Gods…will it fit?”

“Mhmm,” you assure him, though you are unsure, “The gods made us for each other.”

Jace kisses you as you guide him towards your throbbing center, running the fat tip of his cock along your soaked slit. Jace’s hips buck as the contact, and he begins to ease himself inside of you.

“Seven above,” he gasps, jaw slacked with pleasure, “Oh Seven save me.”

“Fuck,” you hiss at the burning stretch of him.

It is deliciously painful as he bottoms out, breaking you open, nearly splitting you in half. 

“Are you…?”

“A moment,” you tell him, through clenched teeth, “Just a moment.”

“Take all the time,” he assures you, placing soft kisses across your face.

You wait, letting him rest within you before you begin to return his kisses, nodding for him to move. Slowly, carefully he lifts his hips, dragging his cock along your tender walls, before rolling them against you. The sounds you begin to make have Jace trembling above you, continuing his thrusts.

“Seven hells,” he grunts, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, “So tight, so warm, fuck.”

You claw desperately at his shoulders, his back, anywhere that brings him closer to you. His cock feels so perfect inside of you, the pain nearly completing gone and replaced by white hot pleasure. 

Jace glances down between you, where you both are connected, watching his soaked cock slide in and out of you. He moves a hand to your lower stomach, pressing down. All the pleasure seems to zero in where he presses, as though he can feel with his hand the bulge of his cock through your lower stomach. 

“Jace,” you whine, feeling your limbs tingle with the promise of your imminent release.

“Squeezing me so tight,” he moans, “Fuck, I can feel it.”

Your legs tremble around him as your second climax washes over you, constricitng his cock in a vicelike grip. 

“You’ve peaked?” Jace asks, noting the way your face scrunches, the way your cunt constricts him, “Seven hells you’re fucking perfect around me.”

He moves your left leg then, hooking it over his shoulder as he continues to plow into you. Each thrust in your quivering cunt sends heat pooling in your belly. 

“Taking me so well,” Jace says, eyes trained on his cock dissappearing inside you, “Seven hells, I’m close, what…”

“Stay,” you beg him, “Stay inside me please.”

Jace’s answering kiss is ferocious, his hips desperately slapping against you, his pace increasing. 

“I’ll stay,” he tells you, mouth pressed against yours, “I’ll stay with you.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him hungrily. Jace moves his lips across your face, down the crook of your neck. 

“Seven hells, I’m going to fill you with my seed,” he moans, “Watch you swell with my children.”

“Please,” you tell him, “I’ll give you many sons.”

“How many?” he questions.

“However many you desire,” you whimper, “Keep me full always with your seed, swollen with your child.”

Jace’s answering moan and stuttering of his hips tells you that’s exactly what he intends, as you feel the warmth of his seed fill your throbbing cunny. As he unsheathes himself from you, you can feel your mingled releases dripping from your center. 

The unpleasant empty feeling is short lived as Jace plunges two thick fingers inside of you, curling them against your sweet spot. You gasp as he fingers you towards your third peak, utilziing his thumb to tap at your sensitive pearl. 

“You must keep it inside you,” he murmurs, “Your cunny responds so well to me.”

“Fuck, fuck!” you squeak, legs thrashing as your peak washes over you. 

Jace keeps his fingers sheathed in your cunt, but moves to lay on top of you. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, uncosciously.

“Does my lady need more?” Jace asks, gently curling his fingers, stroking your most sensitive spot. 

A sharp whine leaves your lips and you burrow your face against his chest. He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“No please,” you tell him, “Too much.”

“I shall stop,” he tells you, uncurling his fingers. 

“Stay,” you tell him, placing kisses across his chest, “Stay with me.”

Jace doesn’t answer with words, he doesn’t need to. He stays with you the remainder of the night, and the following evening you are bound together beneath the Weirwood tree in the godswood, before the eyes of the Old Gods and the New.

note: hope you liked it! just realized I don't have a Jace taglist so will be reblogging with general HOTD tags!

[its-actually-minicika]

Hey bestie! How do you think hw aemond, jace and hogwarts aemond,jace, and aegon would be with reader who gets horrible menstrual cramps? And weird food cravings too if you can (I just smeared some tomate paste on a rice cake after spending some time in fetal position thanks to my cramps). Feel free to add any other character you like. I'd love see your thoughts on this. Thanks in advance 💙 Love you

The Five Boyfriends - Collect Them All

Pairings: Jacaerys x Reader, Aemond x Reader (bookcanon and showcanon), Aegon x Reader;

Warnings: None! This is very much crackfic material

Author's Note: I hope you're feeling better and aren't cramping too much, Heart Nonny! Please have some fun headcanons in these trying times <33

For the sake of this post, you're in an etablished relationship with all of them, okay? Okay.

The "Harshest Winters" Gang:

☆ Jacaerys Velaryon (Strong) ☆

He would 100% join you in your insanity when it comes to weird food combinations

HE'S LITERALLY SO SO ATTENTIVE

Jace would do anything to ensure you're comfortable.

You need to lay down? Let him bring you some more pillows--

You need more pelts so you get warmer? He's already on it.

If you tell him you're in pain due to your cramps, he highkey panics like no tomorrow

HE IS NOT EQUIPPED FOR THAT, OKAY? HE HAS 4 YOUNGER BROTHERS, HOW COULD HE KNOW WHAT THAT ENTAILS FOR YOUR HEALTH AND HAPPINESS

Calls seven maesters in before you can even tell him your discomfort is not life and death related;

They end up giving you something to aid your heavy flow, though, so it's not all that bad.

"I love you so, so much, my sweet love. I just want you to know that."

"Jace, calm down, I'm not dying."

Will keep a hand over your lower abdomen and gently apply pressure to take the edge off your pain;

His skin is literally burning up all the time (a Prince of the "blood of the dragon", indeed), and he gives the best hugs in the Seven Kingdoms.

Feel free to use him as your personal radiator any day at any time!

Will drop anything to stay in bed with you, and will encourage you to just relax while he does all the work.

He'll nonchalantly ask his mother tips on things he can do for you while you're going through your monthly cycle.

1000/10 he broke the wholesome scale long ago.

"I could never imagine going through such a thing. And every month...? I know lords who faint at the sight of a small cut - you must be the bravest person I know, my love."

Stan Jace he just loves you so much and he will do anything for you, even if you don't ask him to.

☆ Aemond Targaryen ☆

I hope you like period sex 😍😚

No. I'm not joking.

He read ten books on the subject of female anatomy, and each recommends sex as a way "to ease the maiden's pain"

He lays the question as something that would just help you feel better

But let's face it

This mf is gross and would have you 24/7, no matter the state you're in

Just tell him he can have sex with you and he's up and ready to go

Please???

Please tell him you want to have sex with him.

Would still eat you out

1000%

Even if you're against the idea, did you hear him stutter???

"You know better than anyone else how much blood I've seen throughout my life. I won't faint at the sight of yours. So just lay down and let me take care of it."

"Nope. No way."

Homeboy is flabbergasted when he sees you eat your corn bread with bitter wine and mustard.

He still supports you, although he greatly encourages you to not try anything too weird, so that your stomach pains don't become worse.

He gets really pissy if you ignore his advice.

But he'll just whisk your hair away from your face as you eat, and gently caress your skin.

He made the mistake to argue with you while you were on your period once, and he instantly regretted it.

Never again, he learnt his lesson.

If you're clingy with him during your monthly blood flow, Aemond will drop everything just to stay in bed with you.

He's an attention whore, and just wants you all to himself.

Your period is his excuse to keep you attached to his hip, and ignore all his royal duties to take care of you.

"Just so you know... If you were swelling with my child, you woudn't have to go through this."

The HotD Main Three:

☆ Jacaerys Velaryon ☆

Jace is an absolute sweetheart, in any universe I insert him in;

Much of his behaviour with you will be the same as his HW counterpart;

He will skip class with you, so that you may relax in his dorm, no questions asked.

He puts some elevator music on his IPhone while you guys chill in bed;

Gets you some of those nifty magical pills that subdue your cramps and give you a lot of energy to start your day right.

You have any cravings?? ALRIGHT BET

He sneaks into the Kitchens and makes you whatever you want;

Homeboy's a chef - he will bibbidi bobbidi boo you anything, just say the word.

Hypes you tf up and tells you you're the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, if you feel bloated or uncomfortable in your skin.

Once again, you can't go wrong by choosing Jace.

☆ Aemond Targaryen ☆

Because you guys don't get to see each other much throughout the day (different schedules and all that jazz), Aemond sort of figures out you're on your monthly cycle when he escorts you from your Dorm to the Great Hall.

You don't look bad, or behave any differently - but your expression slightly changes while you guys descend the stairs.

And he instantly knows you're hurting somewhere.

He questions you sharply on your current state and doesn't falther even once.

"Aemond, relax, I'm just on my... thing, you know?"

"Thing?"

"... My period."

"... Oh."

He carries you down the stairs (he won't accept a no for an answer), and constantly asks if he can do anything else for you.

His momma raised him right, and he has an older sister - unlike Jace, he knows exactly what he's doing, and revels in showing you that.

Can you see? Can you see how good he's being for you???

Doesn't that make you think he'd be the perfect husband for you?

Cough cough

Lowkey gets overprotective of you and keeps a hand over yours the whole night.

He gives a lot of nasty stares to any student who eyes you funny while you're doing your lil food combos;

If you offer to make him the same thing you're eating, he's accept without a second thought.

Even if the food is TERRIBLE, he'll put on the best mf performance of his life to make you feel good.

"This is really good."

"Really?? Would you like one more slice?"

"... Sure. I'd love one more."

... Fun fact: Hogwarts!Aemond has a very sensitive stomach.

By the time he reached his dorm with his usual large steps and impassive expression, the green of his tie matched the hue on his face.

He's a simp tho

So he'd do it all over again, if it meant seeing you so happy

☆ Aegon Targaryen ☆

You're on your period? :D

So you can have unprotected sex with him, is what he's hearing

No? That's not what it means????

OH COME ON MAN

Many many many bad jokes

He won't stop making them, no matter how many times you tell him to chill

"I'd dip my fry into your ketchup packet."

"OH MY GOD-"

Side eye

SIDE MF EYE

He gives you many stupid pet names that make you want to roll your eyes at him, but that end up making you laugh instead;

They include: "my lil red tube paint", "my lil arts and crafts project", "my squishy jelly filled doughnut" etc.

Aegon is a foodie, and his dorm is perfectly placed for certain nightly escapades.

He'll break into the Kitchens with you at midnight, and make as many food combos with you as you'd like;

If you feel like skipping class, he'll stay in with you lmao

But tbh he skips class almost every day, so is your period really the reason he dipped on Herbology?

[erinnkenobi]

Are thou folks excited for part 2? Because I am, let's hope for a good ending and not a wicked doomed one

[stark-boys-simp]

madly.

cyrano!au, cyrano!aemond/reader, christian!jace/reader.

warnings: SO MUCH ANGST, language, major character death, probably ooc everyone but who cares, some sexual references

a/n: i forgot to proofread this before posting it so sorry about that, just tell me any typos you see and i’ll fix them :D

prologue

tags: @valeskafics

“what in the seven sweet hells is that frey girl wearing.”

aemond smiled to himself as she whispered in his ear. “it would appear to be a dress with a pattern of their house sigil around the bottom.”

y/n snorted. “you and i both know exactly what those ‘towers’ look like.”

he raised an eyebrow at her. “how do you know what… those look like?”

“i am a lady, not a septa.”

“is the discussion of such things in public balls really ladylike?”

“are you attempting to say that knowledge should be withheld from a lady who seeks it?”

he opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.

“that’s what i thought. besides, what business is it of yours whose cock i see?”

he felt a distinct pain in his stomach, sharp and stinging. it was stupid, certainly, and beneath him, but he hated even the thought that she had been with someone else. still, though, he could not bring himself to say anything to her of his own feelings towards her. it was his fate, he reasoned, to love her from afar. “i suppose none,” he said, in his best imitation of completely un-jealous amusement.

“mm. none indeed.” she absently took a sip from her cup of wine. “do you want to dance again?”

“not particularly.”

“do you want to see if we can trick aegon into thinking he’s being haunted by the ghost of maegor the cruel?”

he gave her a look. “i believe that is some form of treason, but i cannot say for certain which law it is breaking.”

she shrugged. “‘twas only an idea. you are too dour tonight, my prince.”

he looked at her curiously. “you have not called me your prince in years. why so formal?”

she smiled up at him mischievously. “and you have never been so formal with me in all your life. or my life. our life?”

his heart skipped a beat despite himself. our life. “hm. i’m sorry, then. i didn’t mean to offend you.”

“you didn’t offend me. i was just worried about you.” she reached towards him and brushed his hand with hers. “would you like to talk about something else?”

“what do you have in mind?”

she didn’t hesitate in her answer. “love.”

he inhaled the wine he had been sipping, coughing violently. “what?” he said between wheezes.

she seemed not to notice. “love! i love love, aemond, you know that. it makes… the entire world go round.”

he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “does it now?”

“it does! i’m convinced of it. you and i have both always been avid students of philosophy, poetry, literature, how can you say it does not? it’s everywhere, aem.”

“have you ever even been in love?” he asked. there was a tinge of hope creeping into his tone, he could tell.

“no. at least, i don’t think so.” her eyes shone brightly in the light of the torches, making them look like stars. “i want to, though. i want to be in love, to be loved for who i am. i’m not a pet, or some bargaining chip for my father to use, marry me off to some old man for a few more gold coins. i’d give anything for someone to love me as i am.”

i love you as you are, he wanted to say. he settled for, “isn’t it a little naive to assume you’ll have the choice to marry for love?” i will never marry for love.

she smiled brightly up at him. “well, if i am naive, why does every poet and storyteller and bard say that i might? i could be the heroine of the next great ballad. you never know.”

aemond couldn’t help but be entranced by her. if only she knew that she was the heroine of everything he wrote, the goddess-muse he prayed to in the pages of poems that would never see the light of her eyes. her father waved her over to speak to the tyrell boy and she left aemond with a wink and a smile, and he watched her walk away, her hips swaying in her green silk dress, utterly aware of her beauty and entirely unaware of how it affected him. he needed to clear his head.

out on the balcony, the moon shone brightly down. he could see the lights of king’s landing below, hear the smallfolk reveling during the festival of the maiden. footsteps walked up behind him, stumbling a little with drunkenness.

“you love her,” aegon slurred triumphantly.

aemond scoffed. “you’re drunk.”

“doesn’t mean you don’t love her.”

“it does mean your perception is impaired.”

“you’re the one without an eye. you. love. y/n.” aegon tilted his head back, grinning. “you love her sooooo much. hey, how did it feel dancing with her in that tight little green dress? her tits were practically spilling out of it, probably couldn’t take your eye away-.”

“alright!” aemond interrupted. he turned to his brother and glared at him before stealing a sip from the flagon of wine aegon held in his hand, much to his brother’s indignance. aemond glared at him. “if i talk about her, will you shut up?”

“absolutely. that’s what older brothers are for, we’re here to listen-.”

“i am only talking to you because you’re drunk and will hopefully not remember this in the morning.”

aegon mimed locking his lips exaggeratedly and motioned for his brother to speak.

aemond took a deep breath and looked down. “i feel as though i’ve held my breath ever since i saw her,” he began.

aegon looked dubious. “come again?”

aemond grunted in frustration. “like, if i make any sudden movements or noises, she’ll be frightened away and never look at me again.”

“is she a squirrel?” aegon said dryly.

“shut up. she’s like… a nymph in a forest. i know i should look away from her, but she’s as tempting as the trees themselves. if i touch her, all her beauty will be gone, set ablaze, but… i can’t help but keep watching her. i know her in such perfect detail. even made a list once. of everything about her. the exact color of her hair. each perfect little imperfection.”

“that is… fucking pathetic.”

aemond glared at him. “i will stop talking.”

aegon yawned. “please don’t. this is the best entertainment i’ve had all night.”

aemond continued to scowl at him, but resumed, his voice trembling despite himself. he closed his eye and saw her turning in his mind, the way she smiled at him, every part of her. he took a breath. “sometimes, when i first wake up in the morning, i think i see her on the balcony, shining like the sun rising. when i sleep at night, i dream of her. i undo her hair and feel it in my hands, i see her skin glowing in the candlelight. i write her a new letter every day, keep them in my pockets and i want to give them to her, i just… never know how. no matter how much i rearrange the words, it all comes out to ‘i live for you, i love you.’ i’m… i’m lost, aegon. i’ve been lost for years. she is my light in the dark. the mercy i do not deserve but receive from her very presence anyways. and she has… no idea. none. i love her like insanity, completely and entirely, and she’s a vision that will slip away in the night if i ever try to touch her.”

there was a long silence. when aemond opened his eye again, aegon was looking at him with surprisingly clear eyes. there was a mixture of grief and pity on his tired-looking face. “you should tell her,” he said quietly.

aremond scoffed. “she is the maiden made flesh, beauty incarnate. she would laugh in my face.”

“she’s kind. even to me. she wouldn’t.”

“she would.”

“she wouldn’t.”

“she would-.”

“prince aemond.”

the two brothers looked up. there was a servant boy standing there looking nervous. he spoke quickly, his words running together. “the… the lady y/n wishes to meet with you. in secret. tomorrow morning. is there a place where you may meet privately?”

aemond blinked. “in secret?”

aegon started giggling. “in secret indeed. ow!” he rubbed his shin where aemond kicked him.

“not like that.” aemond continued to glare at his brother for a moment before turning back to the servant. “er, hm. where is a good place to meet privately?”

“there’s a place in flea bottom that’s very discreet.” aegon waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “the madam there keeps quiet about anything for the right- ow! you cunt!”

“not a brothel. where else?”

aegon glared at him, rubbing the bruise on his leg. “i’m not telling you shit.”

aemond rolled his eye. “yes, you are. where else?”

aegon sighed. “there’s a tunnel outside the kitchens. secret entrance behind a column. no one will see either of you go in or out.”

the servant boy nodded. “i’ll tell her, your highnesses.”

as he walked away, aemond buried his face in his hands, unable to keep himself from smiling. “she wishes to confess something to me,” he said, unable to keep the glee out of his voice. “oh, fuck, i hate having hope, hope is foolish, hope is illogical-.”

“hope is life!” aegon crowed. “she loves you!”

“we don’t know that-.”

“i know that,” aegon declared. “and i am older, so i’m always right.”

“that is not even in the slightest bit how that works.”

“that’s exactly how it works.”

———

his heels clicked on the stone floor. there was sunlight streaming in through a few small windows in the top of the wall. it turned the dust motes into tiny sparkles in the air, floating up into the ceiling. where was she, when was she coming-.

“where did you get that cut?”

he turned around abruptly and y/n was there. she was wearing a light blue dress today, one that made her look like a cloud. in a good way, he thought.

he looked down at his hand. “er, nowhere. it’s nothing.”

she looked at him dubiously. “if you don’t bandage it well, it will not heal well. let me re-bind it.”

he sighed and held out his hand in resignation. she moved forward immediately and began to undo the too-tight knots. “where did you get this, anyway?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the cloth bandage.

“i fought a hundred men.”

“ha. i am not impressed.”

“you pretend not to be.” her fingers danced over his skin as she undid the final wrapping, silken fingertips brushing the inside of his wrist. he inhaled sharply at the feeling, but she seemed not to notice.

she wrapped the cloth over his thumb a last time, then secured the knot. “there. all done.”

“hm.” he stood there silently for a few more moments, silently soaking her in. her fingers lingered on his arm. “you had a confession to make?” he asked hoarsely.

she blushed and looked down. “give me a moment. it is… strange to say.”

“strange?”

she nodded. “strange. do you remember our conversation of last night?”

he arched an eyebrow. “the one about the-.”

she chuckled. “no, not that one. after that. about love.”

of course he remembered it. in every detail. “vaguely.”

“and how i said i didn’t think i’d ever been in love?”

his heart skipped a beat. “i remember.”

she looked down at her feet. they were so close at the moment, she could kiss him. “i feel i have come to a realization. i am… in love.”

he could not trust to hope. but oh, how he wanted to. “tell me about him. or her. this person you love.” he added a small smile afterwards, praying to the maiden that his thoughts were not obvious.

she giggled and looked away, still blushing. “well, he is a member of your family.”

please. to all the seven, please. “oh?”

she nodded. “yes. a prince.”

please. “is he now?” he couldn’t help but let a smile creep over his face.

“yes. a handsome prince. we danced last night, you know.”

thank you. to the maiden, the mother, the father, whoever was listening. “did you now? is he a good dancer?”

she laughed again. “not particularly. i didn’t mind, though. not at all.”

he laughed with her. “if i may make a confession of my own?” he asked, joy shining in his eye. finally, finally finally.

“not yet, i’ve not finished mine,” y/n interrupted.

“of course, do continue.”

“i’m afraid you will not like it.”

“i could never hate any confession you wish to make to me.” not when i have been waiting for it for so long.

“i am…” she was blushing and smiling delightedly.

“yes?”

“in love…”

“yes?” i love you too, my darling, i love you too.

“with prince jacaerys.”

a sword to the heart. “ah.”

she frowned. “see, i knew you would be displeased.”

not displeased. devastated, maybe. destroyed. other words that begin with d. “i could never be displeased with you.”

“be kind to him for me though, won’t you? treat him well.”

“if i must.”

she sighed, seeming to think his hesitation was out of petulance. “ask him to write to me. i know you hate him, but… for me, please.”

“if i must.”

“you are angry with me?” she asked, her voice slightly hurt.

his gaze softened. “i could never be displeased with you,” he repeated.

she raised an eyebrow. “and yet you seem displeased?”

“it’s just the cut,” he said through gritted teeth. “just the cut.”

she smiled at him softly, noticing in the way she always did that he was hurt. “how many men did you fight, aem?”

he smiled as best as he was able. “a hundred.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“ser criston.”

she smiled and squeezed his uninjured hand gently before walking out of the hall. she said over her shoulder, “still. what courage.”

he watched her go, watched how the light shone in her hair. he whispered, half to himself, half as some plea for mercy from whatever cruel gods were watching, “i’ve done braver things since.”

———

swish.

swish.

slice.

swish.

the training yard sang with aemond’s steel. in his mind’s eye, the training dummy had jacaerys’s face, his idiotic bastard face without any scars and with another eye-.

“something bothering you, little brother?” aegon’s voice drawled from behind him. aemond ignored him, hacking away at the fake jace’s right shoulder. “what, she wouldn’t bend over after you professed your undying-.”

thwack! a particularly hard strike took off the dummy’s arm. aegon walked closer to him and met aemond’s eye, which aemond could tell was brimming with unshed tears. aemond sent him a red-rimmed glare before turning back to brutalizing the straw man. aegon’s mouth parted in realization. “she doesn’t love you.”

“don’t-.”

thwack!

“ever-.”

thwack!

“speak of her again,” aemond panted out. the dummy’s head had rolled off to some far corner of the yard. he looked back over at aegon, a rivulet of sweat pouring down his face. or perhaps it was a tear. he couldn’t tell anymore. “you were supposed to be drunk. you were supposed to forget.” his throat was tight with the words and he walked closer to aegon, unable to tell whether or not he meant to hit him. “you were supposed-.”

“uncles!”

he turned to look. jacaerys was walking towards them, looking disgustingly cheerful. fucking cunt.

jace walked up to them and glanced at the headless, armless training dummy. he raised an eyebrow. “was he threatening you, uncle?” he joked.

aemond glared at him wordlessly. aegon, who was a little bit more friendly with their nephews, nodded dryly. “he was threatening to steal away the lady y/n-.”

jace gasped. his face broke out into a smile. “you know the lady y/n?!” he asked excitedly.

“we are friendly,” aemond said through gritted teeth.

“childhood companions,” aegon interjected.

jace nodded. “so, you know her, then?” he asked hopefully.

“…yes.”

“my brother knows her well.” aegon took another sip of his wine. gods above, did he ever shut up?

fuck this. aemond grabbed jace’s arm and began dragging him to the hall towards the kitchen courtyard, ignoring his nephew’s protests and pulling him into an alcove. “she told me of last night,” he said to jace with gritted teeth. jace stopped speaking and listened intently. “the dance, the love at first sight, all of-.”

“she loves me?” jace’s eyes looked horribly hopeful.

aemond’s throat tightened again. “she believes so- ow!”

jace released him from the embrace. “sorry, sorry- she loves me!”

“don’t start skipping,” aemond said dryly. “now, listen- she wants you to write to her. she loves that sort of thing.”

jace’s face fell. “fuck.”

“hm?”

“i can’t write letters.”

thank the gods. but y/n would be sad. “write what you feel. you can’t go wrong.”

jace sighed, pacing around the stone corridor. “a lady like y/n wants to be romanced, she wants poetry and wit and i- i have no sense of it.”

good. excellent. y/n would be heartbroken, though. he hated jace, but he hated seeing her heartbroken more.

before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “but i do.”

jace sent him a glare. “no need to be patronizing.”

“no, no.” aemond cleared his throat, leaning against the cool stone wall and closing his eye without looking back at jace, he said, “let me write in your name.” he looked back over at jace, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. aemond cleared his throat. “i am a poet. this will be good practice, will it not?”

“i suppose,” jace said uncertainly. “is it not dishonest? i do not wish to lie to the woman i love.”

“some illusions are kind. read a book for once and find out.”

jace glared at him. “that was definitely patronizing.”

aemond looked down. “sorry,” he muttered.

“apology accepted.” jace sank to the floor, leaning up against the wall. they sat there for a few moments. aemond was just staring at the floor, wondering how he’d gotten into this. shit.

“i’d give anything to have what you have, you know.”

aemond looked up at him, brows knit in confusion. “come again?”

“your-,” jace waved his hand to indicate some word. he looked frustrated. “your skill with words. i can ride a dragon, i’m a prince, i’m not bad-looking, i think. i can fight well. but the one thing i need, the one thing i want to win the heart of the woman i love, i- i cannot have. i can never have it. i wish-.”

aemond groaned in annoyance and pulled that day’s letter from the pocket of his trousers. “shut up and write your name at the bottom of this.”

“when the bloody fuck did you write-?”

aemond groaned again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s a sort of romantic custom here. to carry a letter in your pocket to an unnamed woman.”

jace turned the letter over in his hands, scanning the words. “doesn’t it have to be specific to her?”

aemond smiled to himself before replying. “count on vanity to make y/n believe it is specific to her.”

jace leapt up suddenly and embraced him. “thank you, uncle, thank you- wait, where is her room?”

“west wing, second floor, the northern hall.” gods, he was lucky that jacaerys was stupid.

———

y/n-

my darling, my beloved, i hunger for you. every night, i fall asleep to thoughts of you, my dreams are dreams of you, every morning the sun rises and i long to wake up beside you. every night you haunt me- why do you torture me so if you say you love me? every day i am plagued by visions of you. i wonder what your lips taste of- of the lemon cakes you shared with helaena at tea today? of the orange you slipped into your pocket? i need-

“aemond! we have a fucking problem!”

aemond groaned and slammed his head onto the desk. “i am in the middle of writing your stupid letter, you stupid motherf-.”

jace burst into the room, a look of distress on his face. aemond glared at him for a moment before resuming his work. “talk, and then shut up.”

“i spoke to her.”

aemond squinted at the page. “isn’t that usually a good thing?”

“not in this case. i- i froze up. i couldn’t speak to her. even look at her. i started talking about the weather!”

aemond blinked. “the weather.”

“the weather! and i think she was angry because i didn’t… sound like myself. well, like you sounding like myself. ‘pretty neck, give it a peck,’ gods, i am such an idiot!”

“i will not dispute that.”

jace crossed the room in three steps, kneeling beside the desk. he looked up at aemond imploringly. “please, uncle. i have to win her back. i… i don’t know how to live anymore if i don’t have her.”

and i do not know how to live if it’s not for her. i understand that. aemond leaned back in his chair and groaned heavily. “fine. where is she?”

jace looked at him in confusion. “in her chambers, i think. it is late, after all.”

aemond nodded, his jaw tight. “you will stand under the balcony. i will stand behind the wall and tell you what to say.”

“but-,” jace started.

aemond shot him a glare. “do you want her back or not?”

jace nodded.

“then you’ll listen to what i have to say.”

———

“my lady!”

aemond pinched the bridge of his nose again. “too loud!” he hissed.

jace nodded sheepishly. “y/n!” he called again, this time more softly.

aemond heard rustling, then soft footsteps on the balcony. she hadn’t taken off her shoes yet. was she still wearing the same dress as earlier?

y/n’s voice floated down through the air. “who is it?”

“jace.”

she hummed in an annoyed tone and her heels started to click away.

“please, my lady, i must speak to you!” jace implored.

“i’d rather you write to me,” y/n answered coldly.

“please, i…”

a moment of silence. but she had stopped walking away.

“do you regret what you said in the garden?” she asked.

“yes.” aemond almost pitied him, he looked so sorrowful.

y/n, however, scoffed. “‘yes?’ that is your considered explanation and apology? you may be a prince, my lord, but i am not a wilting maiden who will be at your beck and call. perhaps you do not even love me, but simply wish to use me. goodnight.”

aemond couldn’t see y/n, but jace looked panicked. he sighed and muttered to jace, “say, ‘i could no more stop loving you-.’”

jace nodded and began to repeat his words clearly. “i could no more stop loving you…”

“‘than i could stop the sun rising.’”

“than i could stop the sun rising.” jace spoke with more confidence than he seemed to have at the moment.

y/n made a noise that sounded disbelieving. jace motioned for aemond to continue speaking.

aemond sighed. “i am… haunted by the cruelty of my love for you. it tortures me, consumes my every waking moment.”

jace repeated his words uncertainly. when y/n’s reply came, though, she sounded less disappointed. more curious. “if your love is cruel, you should have killed it.”

jace’s regurgitated reply came faster now. “if i could, i would have. it has the strength and fire of balerion the dread.”

y/n hummed softly, and aemond dared to peek from behind the wall at her. he had guessed right, she was still in the same dress as from earlier that day, but her hair was loose now, framing her face like a crown on a queen. her lips parted to form her next question. “why do you speak so haltingly?”

oh, fuck. jace seemed to have the same thought, because he looked over at aemond, alarmed. he started to stutter a reply. “i- erm, well, i-.”

“your words fall. mine must fly.”

jace looked over at aemond in surprise. aemond was frankly surprised at himself too. he hadn’t meant to speak. he hissed at jace to, “act like it’s you talking!” jace nodded subtly and began to move his hands like he was speaking.

aemond continued, closing his eye as he thought. “my words must float up to you despite the heaviness of my hesitance.”

her voice was soft and coy. “perhaps i should come to you then?”

“no!” aemond cleared his throat and closed his eye. he imagined her standing in front of him, the way her lips curled, the way her eyes shone, and the words came easier. “i like being invisible to you. i can’t be struck mute by your smile this way.”

she was leaning forward now, he could tell, smiling teasingly. he could hear it in her voice. “why is your voice an octave lower?”

jace looked over at him and smirked, as though daring him to find an explanation. aemond gave him a smug look before responding. “i am daring to truly be myself.”

“tell me what your truest self feels for me, then.”

oh, that was easy.

“the way i feel for you is like an acolyte. you are a goddess, of what i cannot tell, only that i worship you. you consume me, body and soul, and i offer myself to you as the most willing of servants.” he exhaled, a rush going through his body as he finally said it. the words were flowing through him like fire from a dragon’s mouth, unable to be stopped. “i have tried to tell you, more times than you know, how much you mean to me, but… i cannot find the courage to speak without fear.”

“and yet, your letters to me are bold and full of poetry.”

“a mask that a lonely coward must wear in order to speak to the sun.”

she laughed, and he felt more words spilling from his lips like a tide he couldn’t stop. he could feel jace looking at him in shock, but continued anyway. “you wore white once last spring, to the sept. your hair was loose and crowned with small flowers. i remember thinking you looked like a bride. i wanted to marry you right there.” fuck, fuck, fuck that was stupid.

y/n didn’t seem to notice. “if you loved me then, why didn’t you say anything? or even introduce yourself?”

aemond chuckled wryly. “i am a coward, remember?”

“you are no coward. you make me feel alive. i fear sometimes that if i told you what you make me feel with your words, you would think me mad and run from me.”

oh, gods, did this hurt in the sweetest way. “y/n, if only you knew the truth,” he said, half to her, half to no one.

“i know you.”

he grinned wryly, his eyes half-full of tears. “do you now?”

“i do, jace. i know you, and i love you. there is no nuance to you that would drive me away.”

“kiss me then.”

aemond looked over at jace in shock, horrified that his nephew had dared to say that. jace looked back at him, somewhat smugly.

“i apologize for my boldness, my lady,” aemond hissed, more at jace than y/n.

“you do not demand it, then?” she sounded disappointed.

“not demand. request,” jace said before aemond could stop him. he looked over at aemond as if in apology before stepping further into the light. “i will request a kiss.”

y/n laughed, and aemond could feel his heart crack inside his chest. “your request is granted. come claim your kiss, sweet prince.”

jace smiled triumphantly and walked out of aemond’s line of sight, up to the vines that scaled up the walls to her room. aemond turned away from them and started walking numbly away. she wants him, he reminded himself. not you. that is her choice, and she does not choose you.

———

perhaps it had been the residual anger that had made him snap at jace two nights later, at their family dinner.

aemond hadn’t seen y/n in months. after the king’s death, her father had whisked her away, back to her home. he and jace still met once a week, though, in a cave in the stormlands that they had deemed neutral territory, for aemond to give him the weekly letter. when he got there, jace was slumped against the wall, looking tired and wan. he looked up with weary eyes when aemond entered, his face hollow. “uncle.”

aemond nodded stiffly and held up the scroll for him to take. jace did so with thin and trembling hands- had he been eating?- and unfurled it, scanning the words. “i wish i could see her, one last time,” he murmured.

“i do too,” aemond said softly, mostly to himself. he regained himself after a moment and added hastily, “want you to see her again. you make her happy-.”

“is that a tear stain?” jace interrupted, pointing accusingly at a mark on the parchment. aemond opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. jace looked up at him, glaring furiously. “you cried while you wrote this.”

“i was simply moved by my own writing.” aemond paused before whispering again, half out of his own mind with weariness, “and i cannot bear not to see her again.”

“you love her.”

“i-.”

“don’t bother fucking denying it,” jace snapped. “i am done with lying.” he got up and started pacing around the room angrily. “we have to tell her.”

“she wants you,” aemond said imploringly. “she never wanted me.”

jace laughed derisively. “i am not so sure. in her last letter, she said she loved me for my soul, for the ‘beauty on my inside.’”

aemond blinked. “good for you?”

“are you truly blind in your mind’s eye as well as in your left?! you are my soul, aemond! you write to her and she has fallen in love with you! i was only a passing fancy!” jace’s voice shattered at the end and he sank to his knees, gripping the fabric of his trousers tightly. “i… she never loved me,” he added brokenly.

aemond simply looked at him, unsure of what to say. jace inhaled after a long moment and looked back up at him through angry, tearful eyes. “now you fucking listen, uncle. you go and tell her. you tell her everything. tell her and she will make her fucking choice.”

“she will choose you,” aemond whispered.

“and why would that be? i have nothing to give her.”

aemond pointed half-heartedly at his eyepatch.

jace laughed derisively. “do you so doubt the woman you claim you love? fucking pathetic. fuck you, aemond. fuck you.”

“if she chooses you,” aemond whispered, grasping desperately for a sense of what to say, “you have written to her more often than this.”

jace glared at him. “twice a week?”

“more.”

“three times?”

“more.”

“four times? five?”

“every day!” aemond roared, suddenly furious. “every fucking day!”

jace stared at him for a long moment, his mouth twisting in fury. he took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to yell back, but stopped short. “tell her to make her choice,” he whispered, before running out of the cave and to vermax, leaving aemond standing silently in the cave.

the next time aemond heard of jacaerys targaryen, he was dead.

———

his shoulder hurt.

he didn’t know how long vhagar had flown after caraxes nearby ripped her throat out, but she had finally crashed now, in the middle of a forest clearing. he could tell that he was starting to bleed out too, his head fuzzy and vision blurred. he stumbled away from vhagar’s body, leaning up against a boulder. as his eyes fluttered shut, he heard faintly, “where did you get that cut?”

———

when he awoke, she was there.

the sheets were clean, the air was light and sweet-smelling. he could see vials of herbs and tinctures lined up next to the bed. y/n was reading quietly and apparently hadn’t yet noticed him. he croaked out her name softly.

she looked up from her book and met his eye, rushing over to him and taking his hand in hers. “hush, aem. you need rest.”

“you’re here,” he croaked.

she smiled at him again, and his heart skipped an all-too-familiar beat. “i am.”

“i thought i died.”

she shook her pretty head. “no. i would kill you if you died.”

he smiled faintly. “that’s treason. i am still a prince.”

she chuckled again, and he tried to laugh as well. it was painful.

she cleared her throat. “jace sent me a letter. before he died.”

he nodded. “that makes sense.”

“in a different handwriting and style than he usually used.”

oh. oh, fuck. “he was starving, his handwriting was probably shakier than usual, he-.”

she cut him off with a kiss. all he could think about for a few seconds was whether or not his breath was bad. then he pulled away. “i don’t understand, he’s…he’s dead. your lover is dead.”

“he is. and i did love him. but you were always there. and i always loved you too. i just didn’t know it.”

his eye brimmed with tears. “i am… i am a monster. i am the cruel prince, the one eyed prince-,” his voice broke, “-the kinslayer-.”

she cut him off again. “i know you, aemond. i have always known you. you are no monster. i love you.”

he reached for her hand weakly and she took it, squeezing his palm gently. she leaned down again and kissed him, and he kissed her back this time, trying to say everything in his heart with his lips on hers: how sorry he was, how much he adored her, how much he didn’t believe it. she loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

she broke away after a long moment, smiling down at him. “i love you, aem,” she whispered.

she stood up abruptly, releasing his hand and pulling open a curtain to let more light into the room. “now, i am going to fetch a maester, don’t do anything stupid while i’m gone.”

he smiled, weakly but genuinely. “what could i possibly do?”

she glared at him playfully. “you could die. and if you die, i’ll be very angry. i refuse to lose the one i love twice.”

he laughed again, louder this time, almost giddy. he pulled her down to press one last kiss to her lips before she left. “i won’t die, i promise.”

she smiled down at him. “good. if you do, i’ll kill you.”

[yoyokalicent]

can't get you out of my veins.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: jacaerys loves his wife, and will do everything he can to make sure his future queen is well satisfied.

warnings: smut, jace eats his queen out fr. that's it.

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you feel his eyes on you, the rush of adrenaline still radiating off of him from when he lunged at his uncle.

"did you see the way he was looking at you? and the way he spoke of my family?" when he saw the unimpressed look on your face he continued, "our family, our honor. how do you have nothing to say of this?"

"his words mean nothing to me, you are the true heir to the iron throne. your mother will be queen, and you will be king following her, aemond's words hold no significance to me when you are the one who will wear the crown and sit upon the iron throne." jacaerys stance straightens at your words, not expecting your words to have such an affect on him.

you hear his footsteps and watch as he stands in front of you, bending to reside in between your legs, his knees hitting the floor, "and you will be my queen."

you use your hand to smooth his hair out and cup his face, "would it bother you, jacaerys?"

"would what bother me, my love?"

"if i were to call you king?" his hands travel up your dress and land on your thighs, squeezing into the flesh he's indulged in so many times.

"i would want nothing more." his hands move up and down the length of your thighs and are beginning to run dangerously close to your core, "although i feel as if i haven't treated you as a future queen should be treated, as if i haven't satisfied you enough."

you almost want to laugh at him, he's never left you feeling anything but orgasmic satisfaction, "don't be ridiculous, jace."

"not jace."

oh, "my king." you correct moving your hands to his shoulders and then to grab onto his bicep. except, he doesn't stand up.

"i'm right where i want to be." his hands slide back down your legs to where he takes off your shoes, and moves to slide your tights down your legs, "never truly understood tights, keep what i want too far."

his eyes never leave yours, as lust clouds your mind no response leaves your lips. the only thing you can do is look at him, think of him.

"when i am king you will never wear tights, always be ready for me."

he bunches the skirt of your dress up and you lift your hips to allow him access, "what else will you do, my king?"

hearing you call him that spurs him on, giving him more confidence as the words spill out of his mouth, "i'll clear out the throne room and have you ride me on the iron throne, make our heir on the seat they will sit upon for years to come."

his middle finger runs up and down your cunt skimming over your opening, spreading your wetness over his finger before bringing it up to his mouth, "when i am king this is all i will do, all i will taste."

jacaerys picks your legs up to drape them over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of what he wants the most.

"please, my king." you beg, picking your hips up to bring yourself closer to his mouth.

"whatever my queen wishes, she will get." jacaerys does not let you respond before diving into you. his tongue going straight for your entrance, making your mind run wild with thoughts of him, where he is, and what he is doing to you.

his hands run up and down your thighs as his tongue thrusts in and out of your entrance, nose rubbing against your clit, eyes looking at you.

when jace sees you like this all he sees is heaven. his heaven is you, hooded eyes, looking down at him as he makes you feel good. your heels press into his back as your hips raise off of the chair once more.

when jacaerys realizes your eyes have closed and are no longer locked on him, he removes his tongue from you and looks up at you, saying nothing.

"what is it?" disappointment is evidently laced in your words, he ignores you and moves his attention to your clit.

your moans and heavy breathing fill the vacant space, echoing around the chambers you have been staying in. to your surprise his middle and ring finger enter you with no warning, bringing you closer to where you so desperately need.

"my king" you chant as if it is a prayer to the seven, his tongue continues to circle around your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you.

for the final time, jacaerys looks up at you and is met with your head thrown back and mouth open, waiting. waiting so patiently for your orgasm to overcome you.

he speeds up all of his movements, tongue flicking a little faster, and fingers at a rampant pace. jacaerys knows you are about to cum when your cunt clenches around him, and your moans are no longer audible, just shallow breaths.

he feels your orgasm puddle around his fingers, and he gives a few more pumps of his fingers before he removes them. bringing them to his mouth, cleaning them off as you catch your breath.

your legs are removed from his back as he stays on his knees, and you can see the prominence of his cock in his pants,

"and what can the queen do for her king?"

[spider-stark]

LITTLE DRAGON

Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary - Your elder brother, Jace, attempts to teach you how to wield a sword. Aegon, your new betrothed, interrupts.

Warnings - slight Jace x Reader but you can ignore that alright

Word Count - 3.8k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

“You aren’t tucking your elbows!”  

Jacaerys shouted from across the training yard, sparing your horrid fighting stance a half-moment’s glance before shifting his focus back to the weapons table laid before him, enamored by all the fresh steel he had to choose from.  

Sweat dripped from your hairline, trickling down your temples and giving your reddened cheeks a glossy sheen. The sun’s rays felt particularly relentless today, blistering down upon the yard and reminding you of just how much you hated summers spent in King’s Landing, already dreading the thought of being stuck here.   

You had grown accustomed to the cool, dampness of the island you had called home for the last several years. Dragonstone was almost always engulfed in a cover of clouds, and the soft breeze rolling-in from the Blackwater ensured that the warmer months were never quite as stifling as they were in King’s Landing.  

“I am tucking my elbows!” You howled at him, gritting your teeth against the growing pain in your biceps.  

The two of you had been out in the yard since sunrise, going over the basics of swordplay over and over and over again. By this point it felt like your brother’s instructions had been all but carved into your mind—plant your feet, square your shoulders, bend your knees, and tuck your elbows.  

Remembering the steps hadn’t been the hard part, however. The hard part was actually doing them—and doing them right.  

“No,” Jace grinned as he plucked a delicately forged rapier from the table. “You’re not.”  

You blew out a breath, frustrated as you dropped the faulty form all together and let your arms hang limp at your sides. The training sword hung heavy from your hand, the tip of its blunt blade digging into the dirt.  

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed, watching as your brother drew closer to you, admiring the nimble blade in his hand. “I’ve bent my elbows a thousand different ways—and none of them have been right!”  

“That’s the issue! You’re bending your elbows, not tucking them!” Jace reprimanded, though his voice remained gentle, as it oft was when speaking to you.  

Your patience was wearing thin as your frustration grew, aggravated by not only the sweltering heat and swordplay, but also yourself. Your brothers had mastered the basics of fighting when they were less than half your age—and yet you couldn’t even manage a half-decent defensive stance.  

Exasperated and nearly at the end of your rope, you knew that you probably looked as miserable as you sounded. “Are bending and tucking not the same thing?”  

“Bending your elbows is a subtle movement,” Jace started to explain, “it helps you maintain some degree of flexibility. But tucking your elbows is more rigid, making for a better defense mechanism. By keeping your elbows close to your body, you’re tightening your posture and making it harder for your enemies to land a blow.”  

Adjusting your grip on the training sword, you brought it back up into a ready position, both hands now clutching the hilt. “So all I need to do is pull my elbows in closer?”  

“Exactly!”  

Focusing on each of the movements, you slid one foot slightly ahead of the other, balancing yourself as he’d instructed earlier. You took care to keep your knees bent, just enough to ensure that you could easily dodge or leap out of the way of an incoming strike.  

Once you were confident that you had done those steps correctly, watching as Jace nodded along in silent approval, you lifted the sword so that the pommel fell just a few inches below your breastbone, the point rising high above your head.  

Then, finally, you tried tucking your elbows as close to your sides as you could, attempting to block as much of your torso as possible from incoming attacks.  

“Like this?” You asked him, gritting your teeth against the throbbing in your arms, still so unused to the weight of the weapon.  

Jace cocked his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well…”  

“Seven Hells, Jace!” You howled at him, trying to hold the position, “There are only so many ways to move your elbows!”  

“Yes, but now it’s not your elbows causing the problem!” He retaliated, extending his arm and using the tip of his rapier to point to your legs. “Standing like you are now, if you had to dodge your legs would probably lock up and slow you down. You need to drive your knees further apart!”  

You did as you were told, albeit a bit begrudgingly. 

“Better?” You hissed through your teeth, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you.  

Jace studied you, eyes narrowing as he scanned every inch of your form. “Push your shoulders further back,” he instructed, “and straighten your back out a little bit.”  

Again, you shifted into the new movements, adjusting and tweaking the positions to his liking. Your fingers hurt now, too, and painful blisters had already begun to form on your palms.  

“Straighter,” Jace snapped, still finding your posture to be sub-par. “And try to keep your toes pointed towards-”  

Your frustration finally peaked as you fell out of the intricate form, nearly doubling over as an exhausted groan ripped from your throat. Jace’s eyes widened at the sound, doubling back slightly.  

“And what next?!” You cried loudly, letting your sword fall to the ground. Throwing your aching arms out to the side in a dramatic display, you sneered at him, “Shall I hop on one-fucking-leg and shake my ass?”  

A sigh escaped your brother's parted lips, shaking his head as he leaned down to pick up your discarded weapon. Regret already seeped into your mind and dulled your anger as you began to prepare for the lecture that was surely about to leave his mouth—one that was no doubt about the level of discipline required for swordsmanship, and how you needed to maintain a level head.  

But, before he had the chance, another voice broke through.  

“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try,” Aegon quipped from somewhere behind you, sounding far too amused with himself. “Go on,” he urged, “give it a shot. I for one would love to watch.”  

With clenched fists you spun around to face him, glaring into his lilac eyes, resenting the way they sparkled with something like delight. It wasn’t until his gaze traveled south that you lost your cool, however, noticing how he eyed the low neckline of your tunic, watching as sweat slipped between your breasts.  

But as soon as you took a step towards him, fully prepared to strike the arrogant Prince, Jace snatched your wrist and held you back. Level-headed enough to think for the both of you, he refused to let you do anything that would give Queen Alicent further reason to despise you—even if he would have loved to watch his sister beat Aegon’s ass.  

“You’re interrupting our training,” Jace told him, keeping his voice respectful despite the undeniable edge of frustration.  

“Am I?” Aegon pursed his lips, staring at the training sword that was still discarded on the ground, abandoned when Jace realized he would have to hold you back from your uncle. “Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job, then. It’s easier to fight when the sword is in your hand-”  

Jace interrupted, “We should really get back to work,”  

“No need,” your uncle swiftly retorted, flashing a cocky smirk that only served to make your rage grow further. “I actually came here hoping for a moment alone with my niece,” he continued, pinning your brother with a stare, “you wouldn’t mind, would you?”  

You recognized the trap that he had set for your brother. If it were anyone other than Aegon, Jace would have wasted little time in telling them off, but this was different. Rejecting Aegon would create conflict—the one thing your mother had asked you and your siblings to avoid, if only to avoid upsetting the beast that was your step-grandmother, the Queen Alicent.  

“Now isn’t a good time,” Jace tried to protest, searching for some peaceful way to turn Aegon away. “You saw her just now, didn’t you? She’s clearly in need of more practice.”  

You were silent, primarily because you could feel Jace’s fingernails digging into your skin, a warning to stay silent. When it came to you, Jace wasn’t violent by any means, but he was more than willing to be assertive if it meant keeping you safe.  

Aegon drew a breath, still wearing that sly smile that made your skin crawl. “Very well,” he said, and you felt Jace’s grip on your wrist loosen at his assumed victory. “Then I’ll teach her myself.”  

Jace’s eyes grew wide, a muscle in his jaw feathering. Refusing to back down, his mouth fell open to speak, trying to form some other nonsense excuse to keep you from being alone with Aegon—but you stopped him.  

“It’s fine, Jace,” you told him, slipping your wrist from his grasp. “If Aegon believes himself capable of teaching me, then let him.”  

The look on Jace’s face stubbornly pleaded with you to take it back— to say that you were done with training for the day, to say anything that would keep you from being stuck with him.  

But you refused, steeling yourself and meeting his gaze with an equally unrelenting stubbornness. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to avoid Aegon forever, and you refused to let your uncle think that he had enough of an effect on you that you would resort to cowardly excuses to get out of being alone with him.  

Jace leaned closer to you and asked in a low voice, “Are you sure?”  

You grimaced at the question. “Yes,” you snapped, not wanting to appear as the image of a helpless little girl in front of your uncle. But then you saw the hurt flash in your brother’s dark, doe eyes and immediately felt guilty for it. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done,” you reached for his hand, squeezing it in yours, “I promise.”  

His brows furrowed, still unconvinced that it was a good idea to leave you alone with Aegon, but aware that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind. You smiled, a sweet and gentle kind of smile that was reserved only for your older brother.  

“You heard the woman, Jacaerys,” Aegon waved an impatient hand, sneering at Jace. “Leave me and my betrothed.”  

The word betrothed seemed to drip from his tongue like tar—a nasty and vile sort of sound that was used only to further antagonize Jace.  

Jace went rigid beside you, his cheeks growing red with anger. But his hand was still clasped in yours, and so you gave it another squeeze. “Go,” you told him, having switched roles with him and now being the one to counsel him in restraint. “I’ll be fine.”  

You knew that Jace didn’t fully believe you—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust Aegon. And while you were surrounded by a plethora of weapons that could be used in self-defense should Aegon try something, Jace also knew just how lousy you were at properly using them.  

Even so, he didn’t argue, biting his tongue and stifling his rage in favor of the peace your mother so desperately wanted.  

But even the prospect of peace wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling his hand from your grip and replacing it with the rapier he had chosen earlier, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned in, “If he tries something,” he whispered, “then shove the pointy end through his throat.”  

You held in a laugh, gripping the hilt tightly. “Got it.”  

With that, Jace stepped back and turned to take his leave, roughly knocking into your uncle’s shoulder as he pushed past him. Aegon cut his eyes, but you found it hard to tell whether it was because of Jace’s insolence or if it was because of how close you were with your brother.  

You didn’t care enough to ask.  

“Was there a need to provoke him?” You scoffed as soon as Jace was out of sight.  

Aegon feigned innocence. “Well, it’s not my fault that your brother is so easily provoked,” he said with a roguish grin. “He’s the one that’s so greedy with your time. I wouldn’t have to interrupt your pathetic sparring sessions if there was ever a time where Jace wasn’t stuck up your ass.”  

“Our betrothal was proposed five years ago,” you told him plainly, narrowing your eyes, “if you were that desperate to spend time with me, then I’m sure there were plenty of opportunities.”  

“You’ve been on Dragonstone.”  

“And you have a dragon,” you reminded him, fully aware that the flight to the island was quite short from King’s Landing.  

Aegon lifted one of his shoulders in a lazy gesture. “And you have a Jace. If I had been foolish enough to venture to Dragonstone these last few years, then I likely wouldn’t have left with my head.”  

A scowl etched onto your face at that, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely wrong for assuming that.  

While it had been five years since your betrothal to Aegon had been proposed by your mother, hoping that it might bridge the chasm that divided your family, it hadn’t been until this past month that the Queen Alicent had finally given way and consented to the match. And, if the rumors could be believed, then you had heard that her sudden change in heart was in part due to Aegon’s insistence. 

But regardless of any hearsay, you did know one thing for certain—Jace had always held onto the hope that the Queen would reject the proposal. You often told yourself that it was because he didn’t wish to see his little sister wed to your vile uncle, but many others—Aegon included, it seemed—believed that it was because your brother wished to have you for himself, as was the Targaryen way.  

You knew that there was merit to those claims, even if you sometimes didn’t want to admit it.  

“He wouldn’t have killed you,” you finally settled on an answer, your frustration mounting with each word. “Maimed, maybe, but Jace is no kinslayer.”  

Eyeing the rapier in your hand, Aegon asked, “And what about you?”  

You paused, glancing at the nimble blade of your weapon.  

It was thinner than the training sword you were using—and a lot sharper—but it was awkward to hold, all its weight concentrated towards the hilt rather than distributed throughout. Even if you did want to use it against Aegon, you were probably more likely to hurt yourself than him with how little experience you had and how poorly training with Jace had gone.  

After a moment, the corners of your mouth tilted upwards in a twisted imitation of a smile, flashing your teeth at him. “Let’s just say that I’m not my brother,” you answered, purposely vague.  

Aegon’s stare narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look intimidated by your declaration. “Then go ahead,” he responded coolly, spreading his arms out wide. “Give it your best shot.”  

Your eyes flickered around the yard, realizing for the first time that there were no guards around right now to witness your interaction. If you wanted to kill him, now would be as good a time as any—you could call it an accident, even if Queen Alicent would try to deny it. But due to your poor swordsmanship, it was a believable enough lie that you knew most would believe it; knew that your grandsire, King Viserys,  would believe it.  

If you killed Aegon now, then you wouldn’t be forced to marry him.  

If you killed him, then you knew your mother would sooner betroth you to Jace before ever even considering Aegon’s savage little brother, Aemond.  

And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? Jace was kind and pleasant and the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother would make you a Queen—a beloved Queen, at that.  

And yet…  

Aegon snorted a laugh, letting his hands fall when he saw your brow crease, your body unmoving as you refused to lunge for him. “You’re right, you’re not your brother. I might have little good to say about Jacaerys, but he’s undeniably Strong,” he quipped, the mischievous glint in his tone causing your blood to boil, “but not you—you’re just a coward.”  

Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, knuckles turning white as you gripped the hilt of the rapier tighter. Then, without Jace here to hold you back, a primal scream of frustration ripped from your throat as you launched yourself at Aegon.  

The rapier’s blade led the way, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. But your arms were weak and your footwork clumsy and predictable, and Aegon easily side-stepped your attack with a smirk.  

Breathing heavily, you went to swing the awkward blade again, but Aegon had already made his next move—taking advantage of your lack of speed and coming up beside you, snatching the hilt from your inexperienced grip and disarming you, tossing the weapon a few feet away so that you couldn’t try and get it back from him.  

But with your nerves still lit by frustration and a refusal to accept defeat, you curled your fists and aimed for his jaw.  

Aegon caught you by the wrists before your knuckles collided with his face. He held fast even as you struggled against his grip—firm but not rough.  

“Your brother was right,” he taunted with a laugh when you finally wore yourself out, “you do need practice.”  

“Shut up-” you snarled, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.  

You weren’t used to this.  

You weren’t used to fighting, you weren’t used to the heat, and you weren’t used to Aegon—or, at least, you weren’t used to being this close to Aegon.  

It suddenly hit you just how intimate the position seemed. Your heaving chest bumped against his as he held you close, his grip on your wrists never loosening, even once you had stopped fighting and he had been able to lower your arms to your sides.  

You weren’t sure that you had ever been this close to Aegon—close enough that you could smell the faint trace of mulled wine on his breath—and you felt your pulse skip at the realization, fear settling deep within your bones.  

You weren’t afraid of him, you realized, but of the fact that you didn’t quite mind being held by Aegon—not as much as you should have minded it, at least.  

“I could help you, you know.” He offered, his lilac eyes flashing with some distant emotion that you couldn’t recognize. “I wasn’t just trying to get rid of your brother when I said that I would teach you how to fight.”  

Still pressed close to his chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, his jaw tightening when you asked, “What do you know about swordplay?”  

“I was trained by the Kingsguard,” Aegon reminded you sharply, his offense evident by the sharp crease in his brow.  

You gave a dry laugh, thinking back on your childhood prior to moving to Dragonstone. “If memory serves me, you spent more time parading around with courtesan’s than training.”  

Your laughter was cut short, breath catching in your throat when you felt Aegon release his hold on your wrists just before one of his hands snapped upwards, his fingers curling around your jaw. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and you couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something intoxicating about the way he held you—his lilac eyes seeming to admire every contour of your face. 

“Even so,” he began, his voice hardly a whisper as he ignored your claim, “I still know more than enough about swordplay to teach my helpless little dragon how to defend herself.”  

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as the pet name slipped his lips. It stirred a hunger within you that you hadn’t known existed, and certainly didn’t expect. Your muscles went slack, relaxing in his grip as your lips parted ever so slightly, your body suddenly urging you to lean in and taste the honey that seemed to drip from his tongue.  

But even as you began to oblige with your body’s urges, rising on your toes to meet Aegon’s sweet, wine-stained lips, you heard some familiar voice chime in the back of your mind—urging caution, reminding you of who was holding you right now.  

Your deviant uncle—the son of Queen Alicent, who was all but your sweet mother’s sworn enemy. She might have asked you to wed Aegon out of duty, but she certainly hadn’t expected or wanted you to like your uncle, did she? In some twisted way, it felt like a betrayal to her and your true family to allow yourself to find pleasure in this—and yet you couldn’t quite deny the warmth flooding in the pit of your stomach at the feel of his touch against your face. 

But, taking advantage of that swift moment of clarity, you forced yourself to take a step back and reclaim some sort of control over yourself. As his hand fell, Aegon stood frozen in the agony of his own perceived rejection as he watched you turn on your heel, walking away from him without so much as a single word.  

But to his surprise, instead of exiting the yard altogether, you leaned down and plucked the blunt training sword off the ground where it had been abandoned far earlier. You left the rapier where Aegon had tossed it when he disarmed you, thinking you had no use for a blade that could cause actual injury. 

“Alright,” you took a deep breath as you turned back around to face him, offering a weak smile as you swallowed your nerves and said, “If you’re so confident in your skill, then teach me.”  

It was Aegon’s turn to pause now, a flicker of doubt dancing in his lilac eyes as his own insecurities continued to bear down on him. While he hadn’t wanted you to walk away, he also hadn’t expected you to say yes.  

But here you were—standing in front of him, not rejecting him, and allowing him to help, regardless of how wrong it might have felt. 

He's to be my husband, you thought to yourself, biting back against your feelings and trying to rationalize your desire to spend a bit of time with him, I should at least learn to tolerate him.

“Okay,” Aegon eventually said, his voice more uncertain than you’d ever heard it sound before; but hopeful too, wearing the faintest hints of a smile. “Show me your form.”  

As you did as he instructed, clumsily moving through each of the movements that Jace had shown you and listening to him laugh and correct your failures, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as you started to think that being stuck in King’s Landing wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And that, maybe, Aegon wasn’t so bad either.

a/n - had this sitting in my drafts for a bit cause i wasn't totally happy with it, but decided to polish it up and post it anyways cause why not lmao

[faetreides]

summary: aemond targaryen x afab childhood friend wife!reader

cw: intentional heavier valyrian usage (i used translators so if i’m wrong, please just pretend that i invented the language and i’m right), slight breath play-ish, reader isn’t related to aemond in any way (they’re just from a different royal family from elsewhere , visited as a kid and met aemond), pregnant!reader, the breeding and praise kinks aren’t explicitly stated but they’re more in his actions, flashback mention of teen aemond having a typical teen boy reaction and getting a boner bc he saw his crush bent over, aemond drinks reader’s breast milk like a vampire and cums, this au-ish storyline has been a long standing maladaptive daydream but this is just a kinktober post, stuck in the wall was also supposed to be included but i cheated and just mentioned it/same with the waxplay lmao, implied wax play later on, kinda unsafe and unrealistic sex (obviously), written with no thoughts

wc: 1.4k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my works

kinktober masterlist

It’s been six moons since you discovered that you were with child. Your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had been smug beyond belief when the maester estimated that you conceived on your wedding night.

You were not prepared for how your body would transform in the coming months. You have to empty your bladder more often than not and a burning in your chest keeps you awake. One of the more annoying problems was the tremendous ache in your breasts.

Aemond awoke to your quiet groans, sitting up in bed was not easy for you these days.

With a yawn, not even bothering to put on his eyepatch, he sat up in bed beside you.

“What have I told you about making good use of me if you need something, raqiarzy? (beloved). You should still be resting.” He chides you.

“How can I sleep when my tits are full to bursting, Aemond?” You reply with a slightly bratty tone, and he gives you a brisk pat on your behind to settle you. It was gentler than his strikes usually are, he considers your health with every action after all.

He sighs and lumbers out of bed to light a candle, as naked as he was when he succumbed to slumber. The newfound influx of hormones guides your attention to hone in on his cock flopping in the air as he walks back to bed. The dried wax from your love making last night still stubbornly clung to both of your bodies. You would definitely need to take another bath in the morning.

“Ao līs daor emagon ryptan issa se ēlī jēda, issa jorrāelagon. (you must not have heard me the first time, my love)” Aemond reminds you, unable to stop you from getting up and sitting in front of your vanity.

If your husband did not know better, one would think that you were opposed to any night time…. activites. The tired amusement in your eyes beckons him forward, but he stays lounging on the bed and watching you run your fingers through your hair. Aemond resorts to teasing to obtain your attention, adoring how you always fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“It feels as if it were only yesterday that we reunited all those years ago, you had gotten lost and ended up falling in a hole in the city’s walls on your visit.”

Your hands pause on their way to grab your hair brush, casting a weak glare towards him out of the corner of your left eye. You clear your throat but you make no attempts to hide your embarrassment at the thought of the past. Aemond holds eye contact with you through the mirror, resting the hand not holding his head up on his hip.

“I was six and ten, wallowing in nausea and nerves. Do not pretend that you were faring much better, husband. We had not laid eyes on each other for nearly a decade.”

You do not mention the sizable tent in his trousers he had carried around after he helped you out of the wall.

“At that time I was convinced the way I would see you again would be in death, there was only relief for me.” He says firmly, and you shyly peel your gaze away from the mirror.

As exhausted and drained as you are, your heart melts at the unwavering affection in his words. Aemond clearly grows bored of playing cat and mouse, because suddenly his torso is pressing flush against your back.

“If you can’t sleep, at least allow me to distract you from your discomfort.”

He cups the front of your neck and gently squeezes, you huff but understand his unspoken request and arch your back against him.

“Refrain from teasing me, valzȳrys (husband), for tonight at least.” You lean your head back and look up at him as his other hand drifts down to tug the bodice of your nightgown down.

Your slip of Valyrian earns you another quick squeeze. You gasp and Aemond seizes the opportunity to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit into yours. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow and he pinches your nipple in appreciation.

“Hmm. I will do my very best, darling.”

You have learned by now that such assurances mean tragically little.

Aemond takes stock of your chest, sliding the hand cupping your throat to be able to grope at both of your breasts. He rolls them around in his palms and kneads them as if he were in the kitchen handling dough. You moan at the sheer relief and his sapphire eye seems to sparkle at you in some kind of wink.

“These heavy tits must be remarkably sore, so full and with no one to drain them of their milk.”

You nod helplessly, more than ready for him to abandon his games and do just that.

One of his hands temporarily abandons your breast to push your head back down so you’d look at the mirror. You sit there, enraptured in the sight of milk beading to the tips of your nipples and leaking out.

Aemond catches it as well and groans, pinching at your nipples a bit meaner and squeezing your tits tightly to coax more milk out.

“Gevie (beautiful) , all this food for our future dragon. You are glowing brighter than any moon, raqiarzy (beloved).”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, never being able to take compliments with grace, and gaze down at your lap. A firm hand sinks into your hair and pulls it so you return your gaze to your sticky tits. Aemond swipes his fingers through the milky trails running down your tits. He whorishly brings them to his mouth and sucks them dry, smirking at you in the mirror as he grunts.

Your ornate vanity chair is swiftly turned around, and your lap is drowned in white hair when he falls to his knees before you.

“Aemond, what are you-“ Your words are cut off by a greedy mouth latched around your right nipple. Your husband is being mindful of his teeth and starts to rapidly suckle.

His free hand pets at the hair above your mound absentmindedly. An agonized groan floats through the air as his sucking picks up speed. You clutch onto the back of his head with both hands and run your fingers through his fine hair.

“Gods, Aemond, thank you thank you thank you. Such a devoted husband, I love you.” You do not say it often, your shy nature comes into play regarding that sort of thing, but the immensity of it must take a toll on your husband.

His groans are muffled by your teats and you have to swipe away stray drops of milk that dribble out of his mouth as he drains you.

Somewhere along the way he switches to your other breast when the previous one had nothing more to give. Your cunt howls in need for additional stimulation but the feeling of your chest pain fading away urges you to let your dearly beloved have his fill of your body. There are times in which you say it is his right.

You notice that Aemond has been grinding his weeping cock against the floor. He appears to have synced his thrusts to his suckling, and seeing how drunk he is off your milk meant for his future child makes you just as ravenous as his cock is for a hole to fuck.

Your arms wrap around Aemond in a fierce hug, surrendering yourself to your cunt’s way of thinking. Even if he wanted to pull away, your grip gave him no means to do so. His face is squished into your tits and his eye rolls back, continuing his suckling and writhing.

He rips his mouth away from you to loudly exclaim, and you are startled by how his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and his form locks up. Aemond weakly thrusts his hips through his apparent peak, the burst of fluids spewing out onto the floor. A few spurts of it lands on your legs, and in the depths of your depravity you eagerly scoop it up to shove in your mouth.

You run your fingers through Aemond’s hair again to assist him in coming back down, and once he does you are quickly swooped up in his arms and delicately thrown back onto the bed.

“Do not confuse a curse for a blessing, issa dāria (my queen). My cock is likelier to grow wings and take flight than it is to run out of seed to stuff this puffy cunny with. Sir sagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys (now be a good wife), and endure it for me, hm?”

You will be greeting the approaching dawn with countless more pieces of dried wax.

[beary-rambles]

Distractions

Summary: Despite how close the two of you are you're sick of waiting around for Jace no matter how much you like him, so you decide you’re going out on a date! but he doesn't like that.

r.q: childhood friends to lovers with modern frat boy Jace and he's like rlly popular and known to go from girl to girl. reader is like really smart and different from Jace so people get surprised when they find out you two are really close. Jace is always dragging you to parties and you’re always at his football games and he gets really protective over you. idek where im going with this 😭 but w smut too, your fics are acc amazing ty for your work 🙏

w.c: 2.5k

c.w: reader has hair (unspecified type, could be a wig wtv), Jace's anger issues, idk what locker rooms look like, cregan <3, fingering (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), not proofread (as always)

a.n: I CANT STOP WRITING FOR JACE every request of him i get becomes my priority, literally when i woke up and saw this i had to get to writing it immediately like there’s smth wrong w me, anyways hope you all enjoy <3, this ones probably not my best T_T

masterlist

Knocking on the door cuts through the music playing out of your speaker while your getting ready. “Come in.” you already know who it is. Your longtime best friend and housemate Jace who comes in with a smile on his face before it turns to shock as he looks you up and down, “woah.”

You finish clamping your necklace around your neck and look at him, “what do you want?” He leans against the door with his arms crossed with an amused look. you ignore how your heart flutters at him and turn away to adjust the dress you currently had on. “i just wanted to tell you im about to head out for the game, its a little odd to get all dressed up for a football game no?” The looks falls from his face as you drop your gaze from his in the mirror and fiddle around with your hair. he says your name breathlessly as he pushes away from the frame and takes a step into the room. You finally lift your head and meet his gaze in the mirror. “I'm not going to the game tonight Jace.”

He flinches as if you had thrown something at him and stutters for a moment his face covered in pure confusion as he brings one of his hands to his neck. “what do you mean you're not coming? you always come! if this is about me eating your leftovers then im sorry i thought you left it for me-” “i have a date.”

There it is. You didn't want to tell him. Hes always been, well a little protective of you, but you mostly blame it on your introverted personality while he's more of a people person. Youve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember but he's never been interested in you not the way you wanted him to be anyways, barely staying single or without a girl on his arm for a second you don't even know the girls names or maybe that's the point. He doesn't bring them around you but you know he's with them when he returns home super late with his hair all messed up. You fear he does it on purpose, he must know you like him and he doesn't bring them around you to make you upset.

You really didn’t want to tell him. You had thought maybe he would have just left for the pregame and just shot you a text and you could have faked some sickness or have pretended to go to sleep early. You walk over to your bed sit down grabbing your shoes to put them on. His silence is off putting. and you don’t dare raise your head to look at him.

“with who?” “This guy from lab, mark.” you finish lacing your shoes and stand up, finally looking at him and noticing the blank look on his face. “Jace-” “I don’t like this. i mean i don’t even know the guy how do we know he’s not some serial killer or something? Mark? Why don’t you just push it off for a couple days, come to the game and ill find out if he’d a good guy-” “I'm going whether you like it or not.” you cut him off. You couldn’t let him stop you from forgetting about him even if it was just for a bit. You grab your purse moving to push past him only for him to grab your arm. “Jace-” “You look beautiful.” The skin where he was holding you burns. You don't say anything as he lets you go and keeps his back turned to you. “text me?”

You try to ignore the pit that forms in your stomach at his sudden change of tone. you want to say something to him, you’re not used to seeing him like this. he would usually be pestering you about how you he asked you out or did you really like him but he was quiet. The sound of a horn outside brings you back to reality and you nod at his back as if he could see you and walk out. Putting on a fake smile as your handed a nice bouquet of flowers from mark, gulping to try and swallow the pit in your stomach.

—

“who the hell does this guy think he is?” His fist slams into the wall of lockers he's pacing in front of. All his gear is put on, his helmet is laying on the bench next to cregan who can only watch his best friend act like an idiot with an annoyed face. “Who the hell are you to care? Her boyfriend? No. So you have no say in it.” Jace bites his nails as he ignores the urge to hit the wall once more. “she’s my best friend.” “and? shouldn’t you be happy she’s on a date with this guy. i like mark he’s nice. what you like her or something?”

Jace ignores how is blood boils at the idea of you now sitting in your pretty dress smiling and giggling at some other guy that's not him. that doesn’t mean he likes you…. Jace attempts to come up with an excuse in his head about why he's so upset and why he's always been so upset over you going out with other guys, he usually just tells himself he's all worried about you and then he finds some girl to take you off his mind for the night…. that doesn't mean he likes you.

Cregan watches with a raised brow as Jace has an internal conflict with himself. He expected Jace to turn to him and admit it but all he does is grumble to himself and grab his helmet walking away from him. “I don't like her.” Cregan just shakes his head and picks up his own helmet following after him, “that fucking idiot.”

—

Mark is nice. Hes cute. He told you you could order anything you wanted off the menu since he was paying. He pays attention to you when you talk. Hes not Jace. You try your best to not think about him but you can’t help it. You wonder how the game is going, you’ve never missed one of his games. Maybe you pushed it too far and should have scheduled this date for a different day, but you know if you did Jace would have managed to convince you not to go and you would have fallen into the same cycle you always do. You nod your head and hum as mark tells you some story as you phone begins to buzz. You ignore it but it just keeps on buzzing to the point even mark looks concerned. “You can check it i don’t mind, ill use the restroom.”

You let out a hushed thank you as you check you phone to see what looked like a million texts from cregan.

‘hey i know the two of you are like fighting or wtv but you gotta see him asap.’

‘never seen him lose his mind like that’

‘got himself hurt’

‘nothing too bad but he’s bleeding’

‘know he thinks it cost us the game’

‘now he wont talk to any of us not even me’

‘think his head wasn’t in it’

‘know it’s not my place but he likes you so much’

‘losing his fucking mind over you not being here and being on some date’

‘please, for his sake at least try to talk to him, know you’re busy sorry to bother but I'm worried for him’

You stand out of your seat in shock as your heart begins to race. He was hurt? He likes you? Mark hadn’t come back yet so you open your purse and throw down some bills before running out of the restaurant. You sprint your way back to campus where the field was, thankfully living in a college town meant everything being super close by, you cant hear anything other than your own racing heart and the sounds of your feet as they slam on the floor.

You slam the hallway door open and cregan and some other guys look at you in shock. You stand there and take some steps towards cregan barely being able to catch your breath. Cregan stands up and looks at you shocked, “You ran here?” You just nod as you look at him expectantly, “where is he?” He uses his thumb to point behind him to the locker room doors, “Completely alone, everyone's already left.” You nod as the guys wish you good luck and leave.

You just stare at the doors for a moment, clarity finally hitting you as you realize how ridiculous it was you just left your date and ran all the way here. You couldn't just ignore cregans message. Pushing open the door its dead quiet other than the sound of running water. You walk slowly into the room the door closing behind you louder than you expected causing you to wince before you call out his name. He doesn't answer so you walk around the wall to where the showers were and you can see him outlined in the curtain and almost gasp but you cover your mouth to prevent anything from coming out.

“Jace?” His head finally snaps up due to your voice being so close and he looks in your direction, calling out your name softly in question. “I’m here.” “What are you doing here?” He turns off the shower and you turn your back incase he stepped out of the shower. You attempt to suppress the heat and want that fills your body as you imagine him naked before shaking your head, “Cregan texted, i was worried about you.” He just hums. You wish you could see his face but you hear the curtain open and the sound of him stepping out. “What about your date?”

You freeze as you clutch your purse tighter in your hands as you let out a deep breath. “What about it?” Hes suddenly standing so close to you you can feel his breath tickling your back and you gulp. “You’re here and not there, why?” One of his hands slides down your arm to grab your clenched hand as his forehead hits your shoulder, he's takes a deep breath as he awaits your answer. “Does it matter?” You don't want him to ask because you don't want to have to answer him. you don't want to have to admit to yourself you just wanted to be with him and nobody else.

“You wanna know why it matters? Because i was so fucking mad that you weren’t here i threw the fucking game and hit my head. because nobody makes me lose my mind like you do. Needed you here and you weren’t. You were out with some stupid fucking guy and i was so pissed.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder and you try to suppress the whimper that climbs its way up to your throat. “What are you saying Jace?”

His hands move to wrap around your waist and his head moves to your neck, You can feel his wet naked chest soaking the back of your dress and the heat of his breath on your neck “You know what, That i would go find a new girl to fuck because i couldn’t have you, that i think about you all the time because i like you so much, that it makes me sick when i think about you with a guy that's not me.” He begins to suck at your neck and you now do nothing to hold back the moan you let out as his grip moves to your hips pulling you back against him closer. “You mean it?” His hands slide down to the hem of your dress and he slides his hands under it and upwards pulling your dress up to poll around your hips, “of course i do baby, can i touch you?”

You let out a strained please and he pushes your underwear aside to run a finger down your slit letting out a groan, “fuck..” He quickly sticks two fingers into you and you fall back against him, withering under his touch as he moves at a rough pace, clearly very eager to please you and his other hand comes down from your hips to play with your clit. Your knees almost buckle from the amount of pleasure but he keeps you pressed tightly against him curling his fingers.

You swear he has magic powers because as you were right about to cum he pulls out of you and you whimper. He chuckles at your reaction and twists you around to face him, “want you to come around me.” He pulls you into a heated kiss as you two frantically pull off your dress, kicking it to some random corner of the locker room along with your underwear. “I don't have a condom.” You hear him swear and mumble to himself but you cup his cheeks to stop him, “I'm on the pill.” “It’s not the same-” “what are you not clean?” “of course i am-” “Then fuck me Jace.” He looks in your eyes for any signs of hesitation and when he doesn't find any he quickly pushes himself into you.

You feel like you can’t breathe, he pushes you against a nearby wall and feverishly pounds into you as his hands move to play with your tits. Hes talking but you can’t decipher what he’s saying so lost in your own pleasure. “fuck you feel so good fuck.” You tug on his hair and pull him to kiss you, your on the brink of release as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing on your nipples and the combination of the millions of emotions racing around you. You grip on his hair tightly and he groans, “You close?” You nod you head, “Wait for me.” You open your mouth to complain but his hips begin to move faster and his hands move to your hips to slam you closer to match his thrusts. “Want to come together.” His words are slurred as he’s approaching his release. Your hands scratch down his back as he groans in your ear, taking your ear and sucking on it.

“Come.” He breaths in your ear and you do, he hisses as he feels you pulse against him, your fluid completely covering him and he cant help but follow suit. He kisses you running his hands down your arms. As the two of you settle down he makes no move to pull out of you, seeming content within you.

“I'm gonna get a fucking earful from cregan.”

[jacevelaryonswife]

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parties. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects, or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

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taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

[sapphire-writes]

Sweet Fruit (part 3) ~ Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys x Snow!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 summary: You continue to torment Jacaerys Velaryon during his stay in Winterfell, smutty shenanigans ensue. word count: 1.9K rating: minor DNI, language, oral (female receiving), edging A/N: this may be my favorite smut I've written, hope my Jace lovers enjoy 🥵 💚

Jace felt as though Cregan must know the sinful act he had committed with you. He could barely look him in the eye as they broke their fast the next morning. Every time Cregan attempted to engage the prince in conversation, the tips of Jace’s ears turned red with embarrassment. 

“I figured a hunt later today would be suitable, the maesters assure the weather shall cooperate,” Cregan said, and Jace nodded in agreement. A hunt would be best. It would get him out of Winterfell, give him time to collect his thoughts away from you.

Next time.

It had taken every bit of strength for Jace to not leave the closet chasing after you like some dog. But he was dumbstruck by you, by the pleasure you had given him. This was not good. 

“Brother,” a sultry voice called, as you entered the room. A smile crept to your lips. “My prince,” you said politely curtsying before taking your seat next to Cregan. Jace acknowledged you but his eyes went to scan the room, looking anywhere but near you. 

You cleared your throat, loudly, pressing your fingers to the skin of your neck, brows furrowed. 

“Are you alright, sister?” Cregan asked, concern written on his face.

“I see to have awoken with a sore throat,” you say pouting, eyes towards Jace.

Jace’s lips part. He cannot believe how you keep tormenting him.

You cleared your throat again.

“Much uncomfortable, perhaps I am simply parched,” you say, smiling sheepishly before taking a sip from your cup. Your eyes meet Jace’s and he seems to glimmer with mischief. You feign another cough. 

“It feels as though something rather large has been stuck down my throat,” you say, miserably, a smile twitching on your lips. You look away from Jace, knowing you will burst out laughing if you see his expression.  

“Perhaps we should call for the maester,” Cregan says, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“I shall be alright, I think I shall retire to my chambers for a while,” you tell him, smiling graciously. You rise from your seat and go to leave the room, hips swaying. 

Jace swallows hard. He waits a moment after you are gone. 

“Pardon me, my lord,” he says, standing to take his leave. Cregan merely nods, continuing to eat. 

Jace leaves the room and catches sight of your hair swishing behind you as you round a corner. He hurries after you, all the way to your chambers. You have left the door open behind you, as though hoping (or expecting) he’d follow you. 

“What are you playing at?” Jace demands, shutting the door behind him. You grin from ear to ear, standing casually in front of your bed. You hold your hands behind your back, batting your lashes at Jacaerys. 

“I don’t know what you mean my prince?” you ask, feigning innocence. 

“Your throat,” Jace accuses. 

“It is indeed a bit uncomfortable-”

“In front of your brother? He knows,” Jace says, beginning to pace. You scoff at his concern.

“Cregan believes he knows several things. He’s often wrong.”

Jace stops his pacing, looking at you, a distressed look on his face. 

“We made a mistake.”

You cross your arms in front of you, lifting a brow at him. 

“I don’t think it was a mistake. I liked it. And I’d do it again.” you walk towards him. “It is not wrong to want, Jacaerys.”

Jace wets his lips, looking away from you. 

“My mother got in trouble for giving into her primal desire, look where it got her.”

You are surprised he has said this aloud, especially to you. You and Jacaerys are more alike than he cares to admit. 

“I think she’s rather brave. It takes courage to be honest with yourself, to be honest with what you desire,” you tell him, moving your hand to rest under his chin, forcing him to look at you. His dark eyes meet yours. 

“What do you want, Snow?” he asks, in a low voice. 

“I want you. I wanted you the moment you arrived in Winterfell. I think you want me to. And you hate that you do,” you tell him, confident in your ability to read him. You let go of his chin, backing up a step, a wild look in your eyes. 

Jace grabs your face pulling your lips to his. His kiss is sloppy and urgent, his desire peeking through his tough exterior. His mouth is warm and soft and as he takes a breath, you giggle. 

Jace opens his eyes to look at you. 

“What?” he breathes, cheeks turning red. He can’t help himself. As you grin, he brings his mouth to your neck desperate to taste every part of you. His lips are soft as he nips the flesh of your throat, planting hot kisses down your neck. 

“You’re very eager, my prince,” you tell him, a moan finishing your sentence as his teeth scrape your collarbone. His hands fist your dress, desperate for the feel of you. You bring your hands to his hair, nails scraping against his scalp causing him to release a low moan. 

You push him away then, hurt flashing through his dark eyes for a moment before he sees what you’re doing. You tug your simple dress from your head leaving you in your sheer shift. You are not wearing smallclothes. Jace’s breathing turns ragged and a guttural sound leaves his parted lips. His eyes hungrily rake over your form before he is on you once more. 

His mouth covers yours, hands snaking around to cup your bottom, squeezing hard. A whine leaves your lips at his roughness and you bite at his lip in response. You are sure neither of you shall make it out of this room in one piece; the dragon and the wolf clawing at each other relentlessly. 

Jace back you up towards the bed and you fall on top of the furs. You push yourself back and he stands looking down at you. His cheeks are red, lips nearly bruised from kissing. You smirk up at him.

“Well?” you ask, looking up between your lashes, “are you going to show me?”

Jace places his hands on your knees before curling them around them, pulling you towards the edge of the bed. Your head hits the pillows with the force, and you laugh as his hands push up your shift revealing your glistening arousal. 

“I told you,” he said, kneeling before you, “that was a rumor.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge, “show me how terrible-eep!” you let out a sharp cry and your eyes widen as you feel Jace cover your slit with his mouth, tongue darting from your hole up to the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your mound. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Jace murmurs against you, the vibrations coursing over your heat. You can feel his grin against you as his tongue continues to work against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.  

Seven hells you expected him to be a beginner. 

“Where’d that witty mouth disappear to?” he questions, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, spreading you open for him. You open your mouth to show him exactly where it was when his tongue pushed against your opening, slipping inside.

A deep moan escaped you, fingers tangling in his hair as Jace thrust his tongue inside of you. Your warm walls clenched around the smooth muscle of his tongue, desperate for him to fuck you with it. He thrusts his tongue in and out, the muscle seemingly endless. He moves his head, nose brushing against your clit, wet from his previous attention. 

You had hoped to keep the upper hand and make him work for it a bit, but you can’t stop the string of moans and whimpers that leave your mouth. Especially when he brings his tongue back to your clit, lavishing it with small strokes. 

“Lady Y/N,” he croons, and you glance down at him. His eyes shine like black fire in the candlelight, a cheeky grin on his face. How the tables have turned. Jace moves a hand between your legs, carefully slipping a finger inside of you. A moan leaves your lips and you slap your hand to cover your mouth.

“Twas a rumor,” Jace murmured, eyes locked on his finger pumping in and out of your tight heat. “Lady Jeyne was more enamored with my dragon, than me.”

“How unfortunate for her,” you choked out. It was hard to form coherent thoughts as he curled his finger within you, searching ceaselessly against your walls. 

“Yes right there,” you whined, back arching off the bed as Jace pressed his finger against the section of your inner walls that made your vision blur. As soon as you spoke, Jace pushed a second finger into you. Your moans turned to whimpers as he pumped them, his efforts merciless. 

“I think I like you like this,” he purrs, blowing lightly on your clit causing your hips to buck up from the bed, “docile and drunk with pleasure.” 

You want nothing more than to snap back at him, but all thoughts fizzle from your mind as his tongue finds your sensitive pearl, fingers still moving inside of you. His free hand wraps around your thigh, surely leaving bruises. 

His tongue expertly circles your sensitive bud, applying just the right amount of hot, wet, pressure. You can feel your orgasm building in your abdomen, twisting and curling within you ready to snap.

“Jace,” you moan, nearly in tears, “I’m close.”

“No.”

Your heart drops. Panic slashes through you as he slows his fingers, and the peak of your pleasure begins to vanish; the cresting wave within you smoothing into a calm sea. You whimper pathetically, unable to stop yourself, twisting your head to look at him. You’ve never begged, but as you look into Jace’s eyes you fear you may start to. 

“Not until you promise me,” he continues, fingers barely flexing within you. Sharp, bolts of pleasure run through your body with each small movement he awards you. You feel tears in your eyes and a sob in your throat. He surely means to drive you mad. 

“Promise what?” you practically scream, every nerve in your body alive and burning. 

“That you shall behave in public, from now on,” he tells you, “no more flirtation in front of your brother.”

Easy enough to promise. 

“I swear.” 

Jace cocks his head. You feel him begin to unsheath his fingers completely from your wet heat.

“Wait!” you beg, desperate for release, “I swear, truly, by the old gods and the new.”

Only, the tips of his fingers remain inside of you. Jace’s smile is ravenous before plunging the digits back into your heat, attaching his lips to your clit. He fucks you relentlessly with his fingers, sucking on your clit, filling the room with wet slurping sounds. 

Your pleasure crests again and a strangled cry escapes you, tears streaming down your face. Your back arches off the bed and Jace throws his hand over your thighs, pinning you down. You reach your peak, tangling your fingers in Jace’s dark hair as your cunt clamps down on his fingers. It takes you several moments to recover, and when Jace rises from between your thighs his lips glisten with your release. 

Your body is completely flushed and you try to slow your breathing back to a reasonable pace. Jace smiles at you as you sit up, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. It is almost hard to believe he is the same lustful man who was just between your legs. 

You watch him wide-eyed as he goes to leave your chambers. 

“Shall I see you tonight, my lady?” he says from the doorway. You raise your eyebrows, but award him a nod. 

“Good,” he says, unable to keep the smug grin from his face, “I look forward to it.”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Tԋҽ Sσϝƚҽʂƚ Lσʋҽ

summary: sometimes all you need is a gentle lover and a comforting hand, Jacaerys knows this all too well with you at his side and a crown at his temple request: Hii can I request a softest love prompt 2&7 for Jace:)))) pairing: King!Jacaerys x reader pronouns: she/her dividers by: saradika and cafekitsune wordcount: 2,659  prompts: 2. touching foreheads in a hug, 7. that gaze--tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" banners by myself A/N: i really hope you enjoyed this anon! let me know!

“AND IF we are unable to find said payment or refuse, then it is a reasonable assumption to make that–” The droning speech of Isembard Arryn, Master of Coin, continues despite the Jacaerys’ clenching jaw and slitted gaze. “War is no solution.” Lord Cregan Stark swiftly interrupts him, glancing his King’s way as the words pass him. It is no secret that the King is not fond of division nor war. Jacaerys stays staring ahead, gaze hard and impenetrable. “We have the money.” He contributes, voice uncharacteristically gruff. You squeeze his hand but as quickly as you can blink, he brings your palm to his lips and places a deft kiss there. Soft and gentle as it had always been. The council pauses at the motion then returns to the matter. They shift in discomfort, they continue to look at his stiff form. “I believe, our liege, that–” Lord Thaddeus Rowen, Master of Laws and lord justiciar begins. “My Hand is right, let us rest on the matter.” Jacaerys snaps briskly. Lord Rowen clears his throat and lets a childish huff pass him. “The decision should be made with haste, your grace, Lord Baratheon shall not be so kind. He will–” Arryn presses further before– “We will let it rest!” Jacaerys shouts with suddenness. He stands and slams one cold, commanding fist against the table. Each breath is held at such an outburst and for once, the King is not blinking at the nothingness of a floor or blankly ahead. Purpose takes flight in his eyes, directing their focus as sharp as a blade on the infuriating man. 

Silence presides over the table, It echoes and flickers with the rage of a King’s charge. Your King had spoken and if his council continued to defy him, you were certain that it would end less than favourably for them. And so, you circle your thumb of his hand and latch your eyes on the side of his face until the pull of your attention tugs him back to you. His eyes lock on your own–at first they stare with the stark hardness of stone. They swim with slitted irritation and glare with a gruffness unknown to you. But he is still your Jacaerys and it takes not long before he softens at your own gaze, you are enough to gentle him. You always are. Jacaerys swallows and turns his gaze back on his dispersing council. “I meant not to frighten you.” He uttered quietly. His body lightened like a feather and his sights trained on the stone table before him. As easily as he does so, you stand and cup his face with your unarmed hand. Your fingers flatten against his face and turn him once more before you. “You could never frighten me.” You reply simply, closing your eyes. Simpleness was your most favourable quality. Everything you cast him was with ease, no secrets stood between you both. It was a relief after so long at troublesome court for you both. A bated huff fluttered with purpose through his nose and it took little for the both of you to rest your foreheads together. He releases shuddered breaths which follow the seam of your mouth. “I love you.” He whispers. A smile pinches at your lips. “I love you too.” You return as the doors swing shut. Another sigh passes through your husband and relaxation washes over him. 

Finally everyone has left, Jacaerys’ arms wrap around you and fingers are already pawing at your gown. It comforts him to feel you, to clench that fabric up in his balled hands and know you’re there. What feels even better however is when a warm, firm kiss is planted against your forehead. And then you hear the most lyrical words…“I love you so much I can barely breathe.” And you let out a shaky exhale. You flutter against him and it almost entices his arms to hold you tighter. The sweetness of his voice plays like a melody through your ears until they circle your brain and lull it to stop the whirring. The whirring that had become so painfully familiar. So painfully consistent. It reminds you of your lover. Not your husband but your lover. The marriage had been chosen for you but that did not mean that your love had been, as Jacaerys cares to remind you each eve as he twists those silken fingers through your hair, as he kisses his affection down your neck until caressed bruises lay in his wake and colour with the pink of his love. Because he does love you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves–He loves to be yours, he reminds you as he pulls away. The drapes flutter the cold air inside as swiftly as you can imagine wings could. It folds over you in the space between yourself and your husband. Slowly, your eyes open to find him already gazing at you with his wear lovesick gaze. The gaze that buckles your knees and has you unable to as much as glance away from him. Not for a single moment. 

A shaky sigh sputters from The King of Just’s lips. The people had named him as such after the activities of his on-running reign. Of the odd mercy that he had approached his former enemies with. You think of these events as his fingers dance into your hair. His eyes follow fast to his own actions, fascinated in the treasure within those fingers. Of what he has been blessed to hold, he vows to hold you dearly. Tenderly. Softly. As he does so, your own sights linger on his face. At his pillowed lips and dark, thick eyelashes. At the short scar that stretches along his jaw and chin. The tips of your own fingers flutter toward it like a moth to light. Your thumb lays gentle touch upon it and smooths along the surface. Again, a sigh passes through him but with the gentleness of a doe. With the timid, uncertain glance of a doe. The thought amuses you but you allow it to settle. Breath threads between you both and tugs you ever closer. Ever where you belong. But when he finally presses a kiss to your lips, it barely greets the skin. There is something divinely religious in the way he caresses your lips with his like an idol. Worship dances along his tongue and almost expels prayers from his warm mouth. His thumb detangles from your hair and cups your face. His thumb rolls slow circles into your cheek as his kisses press on between unkempt words. “I love you.” He utters in repetition. “I love you, I love you,” His nose burrows into the side of your own until you almost become one body entwined only with itself. The words tangle themselves in the sweetest patterns throughout your brain and chest. 

Your face turns to face the tall dark door. “They must know that war will not be sustainable.” Utters through you, the spell of confusion and aged bewilderment leaves through an exhale. “We have funds to cease such affairs, why cause a fate of destruction?” Jacaerys feels his jaw soften and his eyes stare distantly into your face. With two gentle fingers, he turns you back towards him. “Men will destroy aplenty for power. I know that all too well.” His gruff words murmur through the air. Your eyes stare into the harsh darkness of his gaze – warm amber turns to stone. Your eyes continue to trace down his ridged nose and chiselled jaw, his plump lips. Something possesses you to caress them with your thumb – slowly parting them until his teeth peek out like shining pearls. His throat bobs but his shoulders stay calm as he leans in again. Jace had been not only your dearest love but your most sweet and that meant more to you than words could ever detail. His lips brush against yours before diving between them and all you can remember is that he feels like home. Jace feels like home. Your Jace. His soft love addresses you and only you – he needs not hide it from anyone. Not even from irritative lords in council chambers. Because you were not only his wife but his Queen. And he has no intent to keep that a discretion. His kiss blossoms your flesh like the blooming of your affection; tentative, tender and tenacious. You would not release it for the world. Not for any Kingdom or cure from mortality for you would happily die in his embrace. Endure any erratic wars or gruelling hardship. It is hard to imagine that you would ever deny him your kiss – the memory flutters the reverberation of a laugh from your mouth. 

Jacaerys has never thought himself one to offend but even less so to cater to the whimsy of romance, yet the moment your laugh reaches his ears, he feels himself reflect one himself. The hair of his fringe passes your own forehead as your press ever-closely together. The thought of parting from you for even a moment brings him heartache. His hands wrap atop the circle of your waist and squeeze with a playfulness unknown to those outside your threshold. “What is that which has you fluttering?” He delights in good charm. He cups your face with one broad, warm hand and rubs the skin. “Hm? What has my dereworthy darling fluttering so?” His amusement only triggers you moreso. When you return him your gaze, Jacaerys can recall why he wished to paint your face upon glass. He wishes to keep your sculpted, smiling face forever in view. It matters not should you outlive him so long as he need not spend a single moment without the sweet, shining eyes of yours. The brows of his face cannot help but droop at your mere sight. His expression stays tender and intense. How could he ever meet a woman of your beauty? He is certain that your charms were not merely a gift of Gods but the heavens themselves. “My joy, I nearly refused you.” It is that of befuddlement which pinches and clouds your pleasant face. A shake of your head rustles the strands of your hair. “How could I ever have refused you? My heart…” 

A chuckle rumbles throughout the King��s chest and he tucks the brushes of hair behind your ears. His sights skid across your features but not in search – he has every answer he could ever need and in the safest of vaults. The vault of his heart. You truly were the sweetest of wines, the holder of hidden truths and the wielder of worlds – his at least. “Tis not your fault, you had not met my charms until our day.” At the mention of such a date, he earned his years of prize – your smile. “To all truth, such an hour frightened me once.” “I know.” He murmured, grinning like a feline. “Of course, then I knew too.” Your eyes widened and the shortest intake rushed to your mouth. “Surely, you jest!” You all but scold, horror in your eyes. He shakes his head, humour all-consuming as he doubles over and squeezes his eyes. “I do not!” Jacaerys claims. “I was quite nerved by it, for what reason is it that had you to assume I not taken you to bed that eve if not your considerations?” His left brow rises and the air suddenly feels stifling. “I…” You stumble with abash. “I had presumed you had not taken a liking to me yet.” At that, Jace is quick to disagree and nuzzle his nose to yours. “I could never not want for you, sweet wife. You are the most beautiful of women and the most kind.” Your head tilts in that darling way that it only calls for when you are unclued. “For days I–” His voice lowers, his gaze flickers over your face. With a swallow, he summons his courage and rubs his thumb over your jawline. “For days, I took witness to your reading in the gardens. To my cousin on her walks there.” 

You had not realised he had seen you with little Jaehaera. The recollection of memories flushes your cheeks. You do not know whether it is your own self-pride or embarrassment. It makes him smile–how easily he can fluster you. “I saw you while passing a window and…Well, you charmed me. Heart and soul, you charmed me.” For a moment, all he can do is stare into your eyes, his gaze soft. “I…” You hesitate, wracking your mind for any clue of the past to which you had ignored but you find nothing. “I had no idea.” You murmur with the quietness of a newborn lamb. He only smiles. “I know, my darling.” Tease carries through his voice. “That is why I love you so; you had not a clue as to anyone witnessing you and your beauty at all.” Adoration was not new to Jacaerys; he had been well accustomed to the Goddess before him for years now. The hand not upon your face runs small circles on your middle. “It is when nobody is watching that I see your heart.” He lands a feather-light kiss to your nose. “I love you, my darling, I love you.” 

Your love is one of quiet halls and whispered confessions. Your love is of a King seeking for the mercy only his QUeen can bring him. The mercy of a gentle home. A gentle life amidst the meddling and politics of a life forever in court. You admit that your own love for your husband came later–the fear of marrying a prince heavy on your mind. The expectation that would come with that also gives no bounds. You still recall how trembles had shaken your form as your father hurried you through the luxurious spectacle. The aisle had been a long, empty space in where you could barely catch the face of your soon-husband and Septon. Surrounded by men and women, ladies and lords of note and yet you had not known nor met. Yet when you had finally forced your figure to stand beside the three men who would cement your future, the only calm you found was through the comfort and Jacaerys’ hand resting on yours. Both of your fates to be entwined and tied. You were together, hands warm and clammy with nerves but together. You were not alone. When he searched your eyes for any hesitance throughout the ceremony and whispered in your ear to ask if you were certain–that was when you knew. You were not alone. He would not allow you to be alone. 

Now, as tears kiss your cheeks. Of affection and warmth–you can still see that look in his gaze. That kind, soft, assurance that you are not alone. “I love you.” You whispered to him, unable to hold back. It does not take long at all for him to press his lips to yours again. His hands caress your face and his care is unavoidable. And when you parted, he still chased for you. “We should retire to bed. The children will have missed us.” You explain quietly, reluctant to leave. A sigh spills from him and although you both stand there together for another second of tenderness, of softness, you know that he agrees. Ever the dutiful father. He would not let a single eve leave them without a story before their rest. “Do you think they would prefer another tale of Nymyria?” “I think they would care greatly for it.” You agree. He takes your hand in his and draws you out of the chamber. The door closes quietly and so are your footsteps as the two of you walk through the hall. The soft rays of sunlight passing down to caress the dusk echoes around you. And like his love–some things are better kept soft. 

General Taglist: - @hopelesswritergall - @succnfuccubus - @madame-fear

HOTD Taglist - @wrendermedone - @its-actually-minicika - @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly - @adelusionalwriter - @cookielovesbook-akie - @maximofftwinsbitch - @ughhthisbitch - @daenerysapologist - @savagemickey03

Jacaerys Taglist - @fairysluna - @jacevelaryonswife - @maximofftwinsbitch

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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[emojellyace08]

Lookism Men x Female! Reader (When you sit on their face)

Genre: smut/lemon🍋 Slight warning: face sitting, eating out, fingering, squirting/cumming overall NSFW CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP! (reader is female).

Vin Jin (Vin Ho Bin)

I just realized that I haven't wrote anything for him lmao, so here's for the Vin Jin simps.

He's here for it. Vin doesn't care if you're heavy or not he can god damn lift anyone with just one hand (in previous/latest chapter) so he wouldn't have a problem with you sitting on his face (And another thing his sunglasses stay on his face while eating you out which can be weird lol. Unless if you're super close with him and in an established relationship he may probably remove it off for you to feel more comfortable).

He would be the one to suggest it tbh. And he would tease you for it when you're shy about it. "C'mon Y/N it will be fun, don't tell me you're shy." "VIN JIN!". He will also dirty talk between oral sex while fingering you. "Fuck Y/N, you're so fucking wet for me. I could slip my cock inside of you if you're like this. You like that right?"

He really likes fragile and soft girls, so he'll definitely get a hard on when he fucks you just by using his mouth. He'll humiliate you in any ways. With his mouth, cock or fingers he's super good with it.

Vin likes doing it on the couch or bed so he feels more comfortable when eating you out while you squish his face. He's definitely the type to tease your entrance and clit then his tongue would turn into Flash real quick.

Also laughs and smirk at you when you squirm and rub your pussy against his mouth when you're close to cumming. He would lick every inch of you until you can't walk anymore honey ;).

Jace Park (Park Bum Jae)

Contrasting Vin's confidence in sexual activities, he would be definitely be 100% nervous about it. If he's too shy and flustered about kissing or hugging someone, what more in sex?

This man is devoted for Burn Knuckles all his life and hasn't thought about getting a girlfriend. But if you managed to win his heart and trust, he would be more clingy especially in private (but he's still nervous crossing that line y'know).

He would prefer trying other sexual activities like you giving him the head or fingering you. But after some trial and errors, couple of times doing it and exploring his kinks and what he doesn't like, he might even suggest or initiate about the idea.

Jace is 100% worried that you'll crush him with your weight lmao (not body shaming but don't blame him he never done anything like this before).

He would prefer doing it on the bed since it's more comfortable when he's lying down. And the first time you both tried it, he's experimenting on his actions if he's making you satisfied while being cautious. He's overall giving you kitty licks and he's softly sucking on your clit. He would also be a little bit surprised if you squirted on his face lmao.

After some practice and patience, Jace would definitely learn about sex and what makes it pleasurable which will make up to his inexperience.

Goo Kim (Kim Joon Goo)

A god damn menace, he wouldn't even let you cum!

He really likes teasing you a lot even when it's not about making out in the bed and fucking. Like Vin he's super confident about his oral skills. He would be the first to suggesting it especially if you're shy about it (would also tease you which will tick you off lol). And if you requested him to sit on his face, he would also tease you lmao but he'll obey you nonetheless.

Also likes doing it neither on the couch or bed. He would definitely give you lots of kitty licks, teasing you on purpose while you squirm and cry about being overstimulated "G-Goo! Stop teasing me!" "C'mon baby patience. I'm doing my best here. Fuck you' taste so good".

If you told him to go faster, he'll go slower and vice versa (this bitch). He'll even laugh at your reactions and noises that you make, adding vibration on your core (Istg this man). "Fuuckkkk, Goo!" "You look so cute when you squirm, you want me to fuck you with my mouth right? Such a good girl".

Goo really likes it when you ride on his face while he eats you out. He feels more aroused when you rail on his mouth. He also doesn't give you warnings if he'll go faster. He wants to tease and shock you to the core just by using his mouth. He also wonders if you'll react the same way if his dick is inside you ;).

He likes sucking on your clit while fingering you just to see you go crazy about him and just him, making you squirt.

Gun Park (Park Jon Gun)

Another mf right here. He won't let you rest. If you asked him to fuck you, he'll fulfill your wishes of course. But remember, Gun's your master so you must obey him. Or else you wouldn't get what you want.

You know he's a beast in fighting, so he wouldn't be different when it comes on sex. He can make you crazy in many ways possible. He can make you cum just by his hands alone or with his long and thick cock. So it wouldn't be different with his tongue (Does he train his mouth too? Who knows).

He doesn't care if he gets to eat you out while you sit on his face everywhere. On the bed, couch or even inside the car he's down for it.

Gun's just like Goo girl, if you asked him to go faster he'll slow down and vice versa. The only difference is when he gets serious (which is most of the time unlike Goo), he would lick you off with no mercy. He doesn't give a shit if you're heavy, he has a strong body so he can manage your weight.

He would also dirty talk a lot if he's on the mood to tease you or he'll be lapping on your cunt like a hungry animal who hasn't got its meal for years. He can be both if you asked me. And the more you started moaning and getting louder, the more his pace will turn faster. You can feel his smirk forming against your pussy. "Look how wet you are. So pathetic, you really are a slut for me huh?"

Gun would taste every part of you. He's so good at multi-tasking that he can rub your swollen clit while his tongue is inside you and his other hand will jerk himself off. He also wants to feel good. So masturbating while eating you out is a big win for him.

Gun also likes it when you rub your core against his face. Though he prefers you shaving since your hair can irritate his skin. Nonetheless if you enjoy his company, he'll make sure you'll crave for more.

James Lee/DG (Kang Dag Yeom)

Eye contact. Mega eye contact. If you're the shy type he would definitely ask you to look at his face while he licks you off. Or else he wouldn't let you cum (this fucker).

He's also like Gun, if he's a beast in fighting it's no different in making love in your bed. Though he will be more gentle and cautious especially if it's your first time since he doesn't want to go hard and unconsciously hurt you. But the second you get used to it his tongue turns faster than Flash.

DG doesn't care if you're heavy or not since his body is also strong. He actually has different moods. He's the gentle one, the tease and complete fucker who will mess you out whether it's through penetration, fingering or oral sex.

DG also doesn't care where to do it but he prefers his sexual activity on private since he's an idol and he doesn't want to get into scandals. So doing it with you on places like his apartment is much more safer.

He also likes it when you grind your pussy against his face. It makes him more encouraged to fuck you. He's definitely the type to suck your clit while pushing his three fingers inside you or he would flick his tongue on your entrance obviously teasing you (he likes the soft whines and loud sounds you make). Like Gun he also prefers it if you shave or trim your hair since it can also irritate his skin.

What if it's James Lee who's eating you out? No difference either. He'll just be more of a tease and would overstimulate you a lot so be prepared.

[targaryen-jpg]

under the weirwood

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

summary: requested by anon: "rhaenyra trying to talk jace into approaching reader:-(shes just so supportive mshdhshs"

notes: y'all when i tell you this made me BLUSH! he's actually adorable i might be perhaps in love no warnings! just fluff

jacaerys velaryon was a learned boy of eight-and-ten, prince of dragonstone and heir to the iron throne of westeros – yet he was completely tongue tied anytime you were near.

you first met the prince when he came to winterfell to visit your brother – lord cregan stark. he arrived on dragonback, sending up plumes of snow when he landed. assembled with the other lords and ladies of the keep, you retreated further into your fine furs. winter had come, and it was a cold one.

“my prince,” lord cregan announced, welcoming jacaerys as he entered the gates, now on foot, “the north welcomes you.”

“i’m pleased to make your acquaintance, lord cregan,” jacaerys smiled, warm and open, “many thanks to your house for such a welcome.”

cregan nodded, then gestured to you, “my younger sister.”

you dutifully stepped forward, curtsied, and introduced yourself, “welcome, your grace. i have heard many tales of your bravery.”

was the prince… blushing?

he seemed to stutter for a moment before he nodded stiffly, “my lady.”

for a feast held in his honor, the prince did not seem to be enjoying it much.

you, however, were in your element. the north was a large place, so cold and empty that you rarely had guests. to have so many of the great houses together? you were delighted. 

from the moment the dancing started, you didn’t leave the floor. you accepted every man who offered his hand, twirling and spinning and giggling with the other ladies until you practically fell over.

when you returned to your seat beside your brother's, you were flushed and panting. he was off somewhere you did not know, so only an empty chair sat between you and prince jacaerys.

“you do not dance, your grace?” you questioned, pouring yourself a cup of wine.

“i confess it is not my forte,” he looked away with a laugh, “and please, call me jace.”

you took a sip of the deep red liquid, “only if you will grant me a dance. jace.”

you held out a hand, and grinned when he took it. he took the lead from there, leading you out onto the center of the floor. the light grey fabric of your skirts swirled around his dark leather, the silver embroidery shining in candlelight.

“i don’t wish to imply you are a liar,” you began, spinning away from him, then back in, “but you are quite the dancer, my – jace.”

he just chuckled, ducking his head, “you are far outshining me, my lady.”

the next day, jacaerys brought news at breakfast, “my lady mother will be joining us tomorrow. she will only stay for a short while, but wishes to make your acquaintance, lord cregan.”

“how delightful,” you smiled, “to think, brother – the queen, here!”

“yes, yes,” he huffed, then looked at the prince, “we would of course be delighted to host queen rhaenyra.”

“will she be arriving on syrax, jacaerys?” you inquired, and when he nodded, you grinned even wider, “i never dreamed i would see a dragon in this lifetime, but to have two right here at winterfell!”

“would… would you like to go see vermax, my lady?” the prince proposed.

“oh, brother, please,” you sighed, “may i?”

cregan only waved his hand and continued eating.

within half an hour, you and jacaerys were standing in front of the dragon. he was sleeping when you arrived, but a huge golden eye opened as he sensed your approach.

you froze as he examined you, but jacaerys held his arm steady at your back, “it’s alright, my lady. he’s – he won’t hurt you. he’s a gentle creature.”

you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him when vermax fully awoke, raising his head up.

you stumbled back, but jacaerys put himself in between you and the dragon, “umbas, vermax.”

he helped you move closer, and whispered, “lykiri. this is lady stark, vermax.”

the dragon huffed, almost like a petulant child, but when jace moved your hand to his snout, he didn’t object.

you laughed in amazement, “what did you say to him?”

“it’s high valyrian – umbas means ‘stay’, and lykiri means ‘calm’.”

“lykiri,” you whispered, running the tips of your fingers across his smooth scales, “how do you say hello?”

he smiled, reaching out to stroke the dragon, “rytsas.”

“rytsas, vermax,” the word was unfamiliar on your tongue, but vermax lowered his head. still awake, but clearly relaxed, “he’s beautiful.”

“he is,” jacaerys agreed, but he was watching you.

queen rhaenyra, true to her word, arrived the next day. once again, you bundled up in your finest furs to await her arrival. syrax’s entrance was grand, yellow scales glinting in the sunlight as the queen landed her. she was enormous, bigger than vermax, but seemed docile.

as your brother introduced you, she eyed you carefully. but, you held your head high, smiled brightly and curtsied as low as you could.

“the young lady stark is quite beautiful,” rhaenrya stated to her son, “have you had much chance to become acquainted?”

she was resting on a chair by the fireplace in her quarters, warming herself after the freezing ride to winterfell.

“a bit. i took her to meet vermax,” he sighed, leaning on the mantle, “i confess – i can scarcely speak to her. everytime i do, i make a fool of myself. i’m the prince of dragonstone, and i start stuttering like a child”

“oh my darling,” she smiled knowingly, “you have affections for her?”

he knew before he answered. everytime you smiled at him, it was like dragonfire warming his insides. your touch sent sparks down his arms, the way you moved when you danced entranced him. even vermax seemed to like you.

so, he nodded, blushing creeping up his neck.

“you must tell her then,” rhaenyra decided, leaning back in the chair, “you are the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, but i will give you leave to pursue your own choice in wife. and the lady stark would not be an unwelcome match.”

“what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

rhaenyra sighed, “jace. if you like her, you must make your affections known. if you wish to marry her – you have my blessing. though i cannot speak for cregan stark, i believe it would be an excellent match.”

after begging his leave from his mother, jace nearly sprinted to your quarters. when he arrived, he found only a servant who informed him you were in the godswood. by the time he found his way through the labyrinth of trees, he was panting and sweating despite the cold.

you heard footsteps and looked up from the tome you were reading by the weirdwood in the center, “my – jace?” you stood as he approached you, “are you alright?”

he could scarcely breathe as he took your hands in his, “can i kiss you, my lady?”

you froze, mouth agape, searching his face. you tried to say yes, yes, please, but no sound would leave your throat. all you could do was nod and his lips were on yours. his hands moved to cup your face so tenderly, while yours curled in the fabric of his tunic. it was breathless and sweet and over all too soon.

jace was nearly gasping by the time he let you go, “i – my apologies. i ran here.” his hands moved to hold your waist.

“wh–,” you laughed, cupping his cheek, feeling the hard line of his jaw, “why did you do that?”

“i wanted to ask you to marry me,” he let out a nervous breath.

you froze once again. a pause.

“you don’t jest?” you whispered.

he shook his head vehemently, “no, no, never. i confess i have made a fool of myself time and again, but you – you are everything wonderful in this world. you are bold and tender and i completely adore you. please,” he breathed, “please, marry me.”

“yes,” you murmured, moving closer until your foreheads touched, “a thousandfold, yes.”

when his lips met yours again, you could feel him smile against them.