#jace x you

[jacaerysgf]

Hi, how are you? A Headcanon of what it would be like to be Jacaerys' second wife (Baela being the first) and to spice it up a bit, the reader being the daughter Alicent

a.n: made this a lot more angsty (even tho its like not) as intended lmao but i hope you enjoy 🫶🫶

- baela had died during childbirth, her daughter having survived

- the first time you spoke to him since his wedding was at the funeral, which he barely said more than a word to you, cradling his daughter tightly in his arms

- you two were the best of friends as children

- you have loved him since you were a young girl and was devastated to hear of their engagement

- you begged and begged your mother to betroth you to him but she continued to refuse until it had been too late

- they loved each other so much which broke your heart

- you fled westeros as soon as the wedding had ended, choosing to instead spend your days in essos trying to forget about the dark eyed prince

- yet when you return he is only more handsome then when you had left

- you stay as far away from him as possible, he was so clearly grieving and you had not wished to disturb him

- you thought that would be it so late in the night with bag and hand you try to leave only to be shocked at the sight of jacaerys standing in the empty hall, clutching his cloak around himself as he stared at you

- he begged you not to go, to return to the keep with him even if its just for a little while

- it was so clear he needed someone so you agreed with much hesitation

- you tell yourself you will only stay for a week

- then a week becomes two then two becomes a month then a month becomes a year becomes two and suddenly you are living full time in the keep

- You two become close friends and you continue pushing down that deep deep feeling in your heart as you believe he will never feel the same

- yet one night you stand in the nursery, sitting on the floor giggling with the young laena who hits the blocks against each other until jacaerys shows up

- he urges a maid to come and put laena down to bed, you insist you can do it but he asks you to stay

- that is the night he kisses you for the first time

- you stop him just as quickly believing it to be a heat of the moment act

- “i did not think you would be so cruel. you must know of my affections.”

- “i am in love with you.”

- Your wedding happens a fortnight from then

- your mother was furious, she had wished for you to marry someone, someone that was not of his kind she said

- and you blew up on her

- he had heard you and as soon as you had stormed out of the room he pulled you into a dark corridor and kissed you until your legs were shaking, for more then one reason

- his family was more then happy to welcome you into their side, you became fast friends with lucerys and joffrey and due to your experience in taking care of laena you help out with aegon and viserys which puts you in the good graces of daemon

- your family however was way more reluctant about your union, taking this opportunity to tease you about your marriage to the “strong” boy. your grandsire had even managed to corner you and attempt to pursued you to break off the engagement to which you quickly shut that down

- you did not care much for your familys feelings when you were more than happy

- your wedding went smoothly and you ended up having a mini honeymoon period in dragonstone where in a few months time you and jacaerys would be living

- when he had been informed you were pregnant three moons after your wedding he turned pale

- he even begun to flat out ignore you until you confronted him and told him you would not tolerate this and he snapped out of it

- he was scared. so scared he would have to suffer through the same pain he had those years ago but you reassured him everything would be okay

- though when you were laying on the bed covered in sweat and breathing heavily he was not too sure

- he demanded he be in the room, not allowing himself to make the same mistake as last time

- he let you grip his hand so hard he thought it would pop but it was not enough to distract him from the fear he felt as he looked at you, the women he was so in love with, in so much pain

- when cries fill the room and a babe is placed in your arms he finally allows himself to cry, you had a boy.

- He snarled at the maesters when they tried to put him in his arms first or when they asked him what he would like to name him

- he was furious at the disrespect you were facing but you did not care.

- “what about laenor?” You look up at him and smile

- he places a kiss on your forehead as he beams down at the babe. “its perfect.”

---

not tagging my perm taglist just cause this is something rlly small 😭😭

[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

[fioiswriting]

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired. 

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later. 

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him.  "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual."  He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours. 

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his. 

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy.  He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel. 

Everything he wasn't. 

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time. 

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

 It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

 "Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face. 

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable. 

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

*** 

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you. 

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination. 

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant. 

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words. 

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey. 

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. 

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. 

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable. 

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction. 

As if to unveil what he held within himself. 

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover. 

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass. 

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet. 

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach. 

An unpleasant heat. 

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery. 

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important. 

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles. 

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table. 

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten. 

Jace almost choked. 

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand. 

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared. 

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied. 

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you. 

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said.  We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity. 

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this. 

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities. 

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

*** 

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman. 

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.  

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh. 

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off. 

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins. 

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs. 

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear. 

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him. 

He wanted more. 

He needed more. 

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand. 

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done. 

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure. 

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister. 

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before. 

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it." 

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling. 

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him. 

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge. 

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised. 

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear.  "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face. 

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace. 

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son. 

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs. 

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot. 

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous. 

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews. 

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good."  She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

*** 

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons. 

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for. 

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet. 

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm. 

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control. 

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know. 

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours. 

The sensation was delicious. 

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him. 

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you. 

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips. 

You could see through his game. 

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

*** 

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him. 

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length. 

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine. 

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you. 

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement. 

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body. 

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head. 

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen. 

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you. 

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long. 

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened.  His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences.  "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body.  You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck. 

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

[maidragoste]

Hiiii!!!! I (18) was wondering if you could write a Jace x his mothers handmaiden reader, where they have a secret relationship 🤙🏼🤙🏼❤️❤️

anon, sorry for taking so long to write your request. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading 🥰💖💖

btw it wasn't clarified so I didn't write reader as a low-born handmaiden (that is, the ones who clean the urinals and that) but as a high-born one.

likes, comments and REBLOGS are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you tried to break free from Jacaerys's grip only for the prince to press your body even closer to his so you couldn't get out of bed. You turned to demand that your lover let you go but you remained silent, watching Jace's face. Even though he had his eyes closed you were sure by the lazy smile on his face that he was awake. He looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful but these moments only belonged to you. You wanted to wake up every day next to him but you couldn't. Your duty was to Princess Rhaenyra, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted. Besides, if she found out that you were having a secret relationship with her beloved son, she would throw you out and your family would be very disappointed in you for having wasted the opportunity that the princess gave you to choose you as one of her handmaidens. Not only that but your reputation would be ruined, if rumors spread that you no longer possess your virtue then it would be impossible for you to get a husband. You are a fool to continue with this romance, someday Jace will marry a girl from an even more important house than yours and you will have to sit silently watching everything. There is no happy ending to this.

“My prince, I have to go,” you said, hoping he would stop playing dumb and let you go.

“No,” he complained, lengthening the “o.” Your place is at my side” he moved his face closer to kiss you but you moved, he tried again but you avoided him again “What's wrong” he asked, letting you go so he could sit properly on the bed.

"It's late, I should go. At any moment your mother will wake up, I have duties to do” you responded without looking at him as you got up. You didn't even have a chance to look for your shoes when he tugged on your arm making you return to the bed. He turns you around so that you both face each other.

“What is wrong?” asked again the prince. “Talk to me, please, my lady,” he asked, looking at you with concern while gently taking your face in his hands.

“I think we should stop seeing each other, my prince.” The uncertainty in your voice was clear but still, your words were a dagger for Jacaerys.

“Why?” Your heart ached as you heard the confusion and anguish in his voice. “. I don't understand, yesterday we were fine”

“Yes, we were. But we won't always be. Someday you will have to get married and you will leave me. “I think the easiest thing for my heart is for us to finish our thing now,” you said, closing your eyes without being able to see the sadness in his eyes anymore. If you continued seeing him you were afraid you would go back on your decision.

Your heart skipped a beat when you stopped feeling Jacaerys's hands. You froze as you listened to him get out of bed and get dressed. You should take the opportunity to leave, it's probably what he wanted but you couldn't move. You really had finished everything.

You opened your eyes as you felt the prince's hands in your hair. Your heart raced as he carefully untangled the knots. Once he finished, he kissed your shoulder. “Finish getting ready so we can go talk to my mother.”

“We?” you repeated.

"Yes. I have no intention of marrying anyone but you,” Jacaerys said calmly as if his words wouldn't change your entire world.

“Jacaerys, marrying me is an idiotic move, my house is not that important, and the lords” your chatter was interrupted by the prince's lips capturing yours. You should be firmer and move away, but you can't, so you surrender to enjoying the taste of your lover's lips, feeling more loved than ever.

"I love you and if my mother wants me to be her heir, she will have to accept it," Jace declared and there was no room for argument in his voice. “You are the only wife I intend to take,” he promised before kissing you again.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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[jacaerysgf]

Plagued by you

r.q: requesting this please, alicent's daughter x jacaerys… and an angry confession.. "I burn for you." type ❤️😭 like he wants to her to come with him and be team black.

c.w: Otto doesn't go to Dragonstone you do; alicents daughter!reader, minor angst, dialogue heavy, reader “hates” jacaerys, hints of rhaelicent, not proofread

w.c: 1.6k (finally a shorter jace fic…)

a.n: anthony bridgerton ass confession lmaoo, hope you all enjoy :3

part two part three coming soon

You were currently pacing back and forth in the room rhaenyra allowed you to stay in on Dragonstone. You had come to see her, to ask her to declare for Aegon. She had obviously argued back and forth with you, up until nightfall where she said she would retreat for the night and the two of you could finish this tomorrow in the morning before you flew back in the morning. You argued that you would leave right then but only to find out that it had begun to storm so heavily. Realizing you would not be able to travel anywhere in this weather you reluctantly agreed and here you were.

In truth you did not want to come here. You had begged your mother to send someone else to anyone else but she was instant it be you. 

“Mother, why not send grandsire? He will be a much better negotiator than me.” she fiddles with your cloak, a far away look on her face before she moves to cup your face.

“Rhaenyra certainly likes you more than she likes him. She will treat you kindly.”

“She will say no mother you know this.” 

She lets out a trembled sigh and grips your face tightly in her hands and presses her forehead against yours “If not for his sake you must try, for me. For my sake I do not wish for this to go to. To see her harmed.” 

You've always known your mother has a very complicated relationship with rhaenyra if you can even call it that. She hated her, or at least that's what it seemed to be. 

She turns and grabs your bag before giving you a knowing look. 

“And I know you also have some unresolved things, do not deny it. I can recognize that look on your face. You must let these things go. Lest you end up like me.” 

You feel sick at the idea of Him. You hate jacaerys velaryon. Him and his stupid pride, his stupid face. His stupid everything. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him. You never understood how much a person could hate someone seemingly as much as your mother seemed to hate rhaenyra. The way she seemed to be all she could talk and even think about, going on endless rants to the point you felt you knew more about rhaenyra than your own mother. Until you met him. Now though you understood her completely, when you were no more than six jacaerys became the target of your anger.

Due to his torment of your twin brother aemond you quickly began to hate him. You would spend all your free time thinking of him and how to get back at him. The two of you always bickered and argued, when you would look over at him he was always already glaring at you. 

You were more than relieved he and his family were leaving after the incident at driftmark, but there was a part of you that when your days dragged on you began to miss him. Tormenting him of course there was no way you actually wished to spend time with him, there was no way…. Definitely not.

You haven't seen him during your time here. You would think he would be in the room where you were negotiating but he was nowhere to be seen. You did not want to ask about him, though the question has been on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly there was some aggressive knocking on your door and you froze, turning towards it holding your breath. “Who is it?” there's no answer but you know exactly who it is and hesitant for a moment contemplating if you should even let him in. You end up swiftly making your way towards the door and opening it just a bit, planning on telling him to just go away but before you can say anything he's pushing his way into the room storming past you with an angry look on his way. You lean against the door to support yourself as you feel lightheaded just looking at him. 

“You are an absolutely ridiculous woman.” you do not speak, unable to, only able to watch as he runs his hand through his curls and paces in the room just as you had been. “Do you only wish to torment me?”

“I am here for my brother-” “You should not have come.” there's a venom in his voice and he does not even look at you. You find yourself growing more annoyed at him. “I do not care what you think. I would be gone by now if your mother had not been so stubborn-” he turns to look at you and makes his way to stand right in front of you, barely any space between the two of you. “Jacaerys…” “you do not want your brother to sit the throne.” it was true, as much as you tolerated your brother, the thought of him sitting on the throne disgusted you. He would not be a good king, “you know not of what i believe.” “I know this is true, you shouldn't lie to me.” 

“You act as if you know me.”

He scoffs, turning his head away from you for a moment before looking you dead in the eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I don't know you? I know that you hate the summer because you get too hot in your long dresses, i know you love whenever the chefs make cake and you would sneak into the kitchen to grab a slice, i know you despise your mothers perfume because it hurts your nose but you could never tell her such a thing because it brings her comfort,” he pauses for a moment moving somehow even closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, “i know when you are lying you scrunch up your nose,” he moves his head to your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent before lifting his head back up and his forehead is against yours once more. “And worst of all I know you desire me as I do you.” 

You shake your head as you suppress a whimper from your neck, “no,,,” “you will not deny it. You will not deny something I know to be true with every bone in my body with every drop of blood in my body.”  

With a long silence between you, neither of you saying a word he pushes away from you and goes back to standing where he was, that angry look back on his face. “You must go.” you look outside and notice that the storm has since stopped, your brain is currently running a mile a minute barely able to think. “I shall head back to the keep-” “that is not far enough!” 

He grips his head in frustration as he begins to pace once more, “you could travel to dorne, to essos to bravos and it would not be far enough to free me from this torment you have put me through, For the thoughts of you that plague my mind to cease to exist. Even after I pass I am sure when I am faded to nothing but bones and ashes the picture of you will be laced where my heart should be.” 

He quickly moves back over to you and cups your face once more bringing himself so explicitly close to you he should be kissing you. The way you two are pressed against each other is more intimate than a kiss, more romantic than any confession. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, unable to control yourself for a while. You want to kiss him, you want him to kiss you. Before you regain the small sense of control you have to push him away from you shaking your head. “I must go home, my mother-” “Stay here. Stay with me.” He stares into you a way nobody else ever has, like he's truly trying to see you and not the facade you put on for everyone else. “My mind, body and soul yearns and burns for you uncontrollably and now that you stand in front of me I cannot take it.” He takes your hand and presses it against his heart where you can feel it being erratically as yours was as well. “Tell me you do not want me and I shall turn my back and allow you to leave. But do not beg me to watch you as I fear my heart cannot take it.” 

He takes another step closer to you and does not break eye contact with you. “Tell me you do not desire me and tell me at once my love, my heart please you must.” 

You shake your head as tears begin to form in your eyes, “I cannot.” “then stay.” you angle your head and kiss him, praying that through your actions he can too understand that you indeed burn for him the way he burns for you. You decide in the moment to say fuck it. Fuck your mother, fuck your brother, fuck the crown and screw everyone and everything else that is not him because you hate him so much that he has fully consumed every part of you like a parasite. Yet you have done the same to him. 

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[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.”

[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?"

[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.

═════════════════════

taglist

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

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

[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.

[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

[jacaerysgf]

Always together

r.q: hi lovlie, hope your doing well :) I was wondering if you would consider a jacaerys x starkreader? were there parents sent them to live with rhaenyra as child to learn. there they meet jace and become super close. but then driftmark happens and there sent back north. (jace isn't happy abt this and begs his mother to let them stay.) years, years later jace is sent north to remind cregan (your brother) of there oath to rhaenyra. and he sees you there and is awstruck, like heart eyes and everything. just lots of fluff and maybe a smut if thats okay💗🫶🏻🫶🏻💗

w.c: 6.2k

c.w: porn with a lot of plot like barely any smut tbh, a lot of fluff, mainly young jacaerys and young stark, vermax apperances, aegon is an ass for like one scene, p in v, fingering (f!receiving), mutual pining, worries abour the future, not proofread

a.n: can you tell how much i love jacaerys <3 🫶

You were no more than seven when you first stepped foot in the red keep. You had been exhausted, it had taken you a full moon cycle to make it to king's landing. Without the comforts of your older brother or your parents it was the first time in your life you had been alone without your family and anytime you hadn't been sleeping you were probably crying. You missed them, your mother, your father but most of all your older brother.

‘I will miss you brother.” you press your head into his shoulder, already wet from the tears you had been weeping into it. He pulled you away from him, hands on your shoulders, he attempted to look strong and firm but you could see the teary glaze over his eyes. ‘I shall visit you i promise’ you sniff as he brings his hands to your cheeks and wipes away your tears, ‘you mean it?’

‘i do. And should anything happen to you I will ride out at first light and bring you back home.’ Despite being only a couple years older he always tried to act tough and he truly meant what he said, he even got on horseback and trailed behind the carriage you were in until he could not travel any further.

Your most trusted handmaiden, Eliza, was doing her best to make you look presentable as you were approaching closer and closer to the keep. “You must remember-” “i know you have told me a million times i must be proper i must bow i must refer to them correctly and i must not overstep.” “And you must train hard, girl. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that many would kill to get.”

You are quiet and stay quiet up until you are escorted to princess rhaenryas chambers and presented before her. “This is Lady Y/N Stark, your grace.’ you bow as low as you can go and fold your hands in front of you. “I am pleased to meet you, your grace, I must thank you for the opportunity to do this. I shall train hard.”

“Looks like she does not need your training. She is a righteous girl already.” rhaenyra slaps the man standing next to her on the arm before smiling at you. “I am pleased to meet you y/n, please ignore my husband ser laenor,” the man smiles at you and dips his head in greeting which you do back, “and my sons, jacaerys and lucerys.” she gestures with her hand to the two boys standing next to her. Lucerys who looked a mere year or two younger than you clung to his mothers leg and stared at you. Jacaerys puffed out his chest a bit and firmly nodded at you causing you to chuckle and dip your head to him. He reminded you of your brother when the two of you were a bit younger which brought you a sense of comfort.

“I will have one of the girls show you to your room and allow you to get settled in for a day or two before you begin. The trip here must have been rough.” Soon enough you are escorted out of the room and taken to your room. Your new home in a sense for you had no clue how long. You had thought you would cry as you had been this whole trip but with how kind the family seemed to be you felt as though you would do just fine without your family.

You went to bed soon after arriving and slept into the next day, Eliza had told you she was shocked you had not slept longer due to the long travel. She had gotten you ready for the day there was a firm knock on the door. It had been the lord commander Ser Harwin who had apparently been tasked by lady rhaenyra to show the two of you around the keep. Eliza had quickly finished dressing you for the day, your attire was very different from what you would wear back at home, it was so warm in the keep you had no need for your furs and almost felt naked without them.

The two of you walk out of the room and notice Ser Harwin is chatting with someone next to him. “My prince!” the two of you bow and he nods at you. “Good day.” “I hope you do not mind that he is to accompany us today.” “of course it is of no issue ser.” he smiles down at you, “you are a well spoken girl.” “thank you ser.”

The four of you begin to walk around the keep where ser hawin would point out the different routes and attempt to show you how to get around. The keep was massive. You had no clue how you would be able to remember how to get anywhere. Other than that you noticed how lifelast the place seemed to be, everyone was walking around with bored looks and the place even had a weird smell though you did not comment on it. It was so different from your life at winterfell where most smiled at each other and chatted and did not smell so strange. Harwin and Eliza would chat back and forth while you occasionally added a comment. The prince next to you said nothing, just kept his hand folded behind his back and kept stealing glances at you.

You grew worried that you had done something to upset him as whenever you would look his way he would turn his head away from you. “Did I do something to upset you, my prince?” you ended up asking him while harwin and eliza seemed to be deep in conversation about how many staircases there were and how obnoxious that was. He did not answer for a moment, playing with his hands before he looked you directly in the eyes. “I think you are very pretty.”

You are startled by his answer and look at him alarmed as he immediately looks back down at his feet and kicks at the floor. Harwin and Eliza chuckle as the two of you give each other a knowing glance while you get flustered and gulp before snapping out of your sorry state and reply to him. “Thank you, my prince. You are also very handsome.” does not look up at you but a wide grin falls on his face at your reply.

From that day onwards the two of you are inseparable. Whenever you are not doing your work you watch him train and the two of you spend so much time together you even begin to get invited to their family dinners where the two of you would continue to chat until you would be forced off to bed.

It had been a year into your time with the royal family and they had been more than kind to you. And your brother kept his promise to you, coming down that year for your nameday and promised he would be here for any future ones you do not celebrate in winterfell. Though you missed your family dearly, the family was so kind you barely noticed their absence. The princess especially seemed to put a lot of effort into helping you even after getting pregnant for the third time. You had just finished up for the day as you hear your name being called down the hall and smile as you turn already knowing who it is. “Jace what is it?” He had begged you to call him by his name and reluctantly you agreed after a couple months of being there and soon enough you began to call him Jace feeling all too comfortable with the prince. “You must come with me y/n.” he grabs your hand and begins to walk you down the hallway with him. “Where are we going jace?” “to the dragonpit you are to meet vermax.” “Your dragon, are you mad?” you attempt to pull your hand away from but he keeps a firm grip and continues to march his way to the pit with you at his side. “It is the task to show that I can properly introduce vermax to someone without him freaking out.” “And are you confident you can do this? What if I get burned to a crisp by him jacaerys!” “So I am jacaerys now?” “when you are attempting to lead me to my death i will call you whatever i please!”

The two of you stop and he grabs your arms, forcing you to look directly at him. “I promise I shall allow you to come to no harm. I swear on it in my life. Don't you believe in me?” he gives you a brave look and seeks an answer from you. You know he would never lead you somewhere where he knew you would be harmed, “i trust you, jace.” he smiles and thanks you as he continues to walk you to the pit.

The maesters greet you as you enter the pit and soon enough you are standing right next to jacaerys gripping his hand for dear life as they begin to lead vermax out.

“You scared pup?” Aegon made a comment beside you and you scoffed at him. “A wolf fears nothing, my prince.” you made an effort to not interact with the hightowers, no more specifically aegon. You had no issues with heleana who was kind to you and someone you would consider a friend though aemond avoided you you also had no issue being kind to him but aegon was a monster whom you avoided at all costs. The other training girls with you had warned you aegon was a bit,, inappropriate. Though due to your younger age they never gave you a firm answer when you asked what they meant.

“Dragons eat wolves, you know?” “but a dragon would have to be sober to take me down, my prince.” he scoffed at you and turned away from you and you miss the small smile on aemonds face as the maesters silence you all and vermax comes into sight. He is beautiful though he snarls at the sight of you and you take a step back gripping onto jacaerys arm. “Do not worry he will not harm you.” he says a couple words in valyrian which you do not understand which seems to calm vermax down and soon enough jacaerys is leading you closer and closer to vermax. You will die. You watch as vermax huffs in your direction, his eyes locked onto you. Jacaerys speaks again and vermax continues to watch you as jace takes one of your hands and guides it up towards vermax. Vermax smells you snarling again and you fear you might begin to cry from your nerves but trust jacaerys he places your hand on top of vermaxs nose. He hums and seems to relax. “Well done jacaerys!” your hand is taken off of vermax who is soon led away and you let out a long breath that you were holding it. “That was terrifying.” “you did well lady stark.” Jacaerys was grinning at you and laced your fingers with his, “I told you i would do it.” “I'm sorry I doubted you, jace.”

In the next year of your training you did not get to meet vermax again thankfully but you and jacaerys continued to spend more time together. As lucerys was no older he also began to accompany the two of you and followed you guys around. Jacaerys called him a pest but you would always hit his arm and tell lucerys that he was more than welcome to join you much to jacaerys dismay. He loved his brother he truly did but he liked getting his alone time with you and you ended up having to promise him you will always like him more than lucerys causing him to smile. You loved him, you were sure about it and it began to worry you though you assured yourself that it would be a problem for future you to worry about.

Your life seemed to be going great. Until the death of lady laena and ser harwin. You comforted jacaerys while he cried into your shoulder. You did your best not to try and only focus on jacaerys who needed you right now. You had heard the rumors, of course you did but you had done your best to avoid them. It did not matter to you if they were true or not though you would be blind to not see the truth in them as jacaerys had begun to develop curls in his hair just as harwin had. Many thought the prince was mourning the loss of lady laena though you knew better than that. And soon enough he was forced to go off to lady laenas funeral and begged his mother to allow you to come but you couldn't as it was a family only affair. You watched him leave with a heavy heart not knowing it would be the last time you see him for a very long time.

You and Eliza instead end up attending Ser harwins funeral where you finally allow yourself to cry over him. You had grown fond of him and he was a truly kind man you could not believe he was gone. The two of you stayed in the area for awhile and had just begun to pack up your things ready to head back to king's landing when you received a letter from princesses rhaenyra stating that the family would not be returning to king's landing and you were dismissed from your services saying you had done well with your training and she wishes the two of you will meet again in the future. All you could do was cry. Cry and cry and cry all the way back to winterfell as you think of jacaerys. You would never see him again, you were sure. It almost killed you to think about. You missed him so much just on the way home that you could not even imagine what it would be like to live your life without him. When you arrive back at winterfell with a celebration you try your best to look happy but all you could do is sob.

Almost over a decade has passed since you had last been in king’s landing, since you had last been in the red keep. Since you had last seen jacaerys. You replay your final moments together in your head often, if only you had known that that would be the last time you saw him you would have done it all differently so many different things you would have said and done. But it is in the past and there is nothing you can do now but mourn the relationship you once had and try your best to move on.

As a woman grows, many men would try and gain your favor, many even bold enough to ask you for your hand but you reject them all, a small hopeful part of you wishing you could be with jacaerys. You know one day you will not be able to avoid it and it scared you thought you were grateful that for now your brother seemed to be in no rush to see you married.

You were doing your tasks as you had everyday, treating today like you always did until Eliza bursted into your room, “eliza!” she rushes towards you and fixes up your hair quickly ignoring your questioning as she grabs your nice furs from your closet and dresses you in them. “Whatever is happening eliza?” She does not answer and instead grabs you and drags you to the main hall where despite your questioning she does not answer and urges you to go stand next to cregan who was also dressed up standing next to your father and you the hall is scrambling making sure everything looks tidy. “Brother what is happening?”

He opens his mouth to answer but immediately shuts it and stands up tall as the doors open.

“Prince jacaerys velaryon!”

Your mouth goes dry as you see him. Standing tall in the middle of the room the prince you had been seeing in your dreams for years was now right in front of you. He was taller and definitely more handsome. He had curls that fell down to his shoulder and he wore a dark outfit. His face is firm and confident. It reminded you of when he tried to look like that years ago but unlike that time now it looked so right on him, like it wasn't some pretend act he was putting on.

You are in a daze and only snap out of it when you feel your brother's hand on your neck and dip you into a bow before pulling you back up. “My prince, it is good to see you once more.” jacaerys nods and seems to grip the scroll in his hand even tighter. “I'm sure you remember my sister y/n.” you notice his eyes go wide and he turns and finally looks at you. “y/n..” he mumbles in shock and takes the steps towards you. The only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart as he soon stands right in front of you, his eyes darting all over your face, “is it truly you?”

“It is good to see you, my prince.” you resist the urge to call him jacaerys as you had all those years ago. You wish to touch him, lace your fingers with his, cup his face in your hands, anything but you do not. As if he can read your mind he grabs your hands and places a kiss on the back of it. You let out a breath as his hands linger with yours before he drops it down and he takes a step back. You take the moment to glance at your brother who has a smug look on his face which causes you to promptly look away from him.

“We are honored to have you here, my prince. Though this is rather unexpected.”

“I have important matters to discuss with you lord stark, involving the oath you swore to my mother.”

You are dismissed from the room to allow the men to talk though you almost wish to plead to stay so you can bask in jacaerys presence for a bit longer. You do not and are instead left to pace back and forth in the courtyard near the hall as Eliza attempts to urge you to sit down. “You will hurt your feet-” “do you think he remembers me?” “it clearly looked like he remembered you my lady please sit-” “whatever could he possibly be here for, eliza do you think he is betrothed.” “What does that have to do with his visit here?” you groan and run your hands along your face. You had thought you had gotten over him, but once you had seen him you once again felt like a lovesick fool just like when you were a child. He could not possibly be here for you right? No he had mentioned some oath your brother had sworn to his mother. The one thing you hated about winterfell was how hard it was to hear any news about what was going on with the royal family simply for the reason news took far too long to reach winterfell and by the time it did it was old news. You had heard nothing about jacaerys all these years or even the rest of the family. Other than of course the marriage between prince daemon and princess rhaenyra and the death of ser leanor which also pained you dearly. You worried for him.

In your pacing the doors to the hall open and Cregan and jacaerys walk out together with smiles on their faces as they joked around a bit together. Once they shall you they both paused and you watched patiently as Cregan said somethings to jacaerys who nodded before walking away leading jacaerys to come towards you.

“I am told you will show me around?” your brother and his meddling,, though this time you were more than happy and eagerly nodded. You wave away Eliza with that smug grin on her face as you begin to walk him around. Other than the occasional comment from you about where you were, the walk you share is quiet. It feels oddly reminiscent of when harwin has shown you around the keep, with your hands folded in front of you and you can see him glancing at you out of the corner of your eye and he looks away once you look at him.

The two of you now stand in the crypts of winterfell, completely alone so you feel brave enough to tease him “You have not changed.” he laughs and looks at the ground, “or maybe you just make me feel like a young boy again.” feeling bold you lightly place your hand on his forearm causing him to look up at you. “I have missed you, ja- my prince.” as if your words had brought a sense of relief to him he wraps you in a big hug. His head tucked firmly in your neck as he deeply breathed in your neck. “I have missed you more than you know y/n” you two stand there for you have no clue how long, simply basking in each other's presence you do not even notice you begin to cry. “Jacaerys,,,” “I know Issa prūmia. I'm sorry I was so upset to leave you.” you whine as he pulls away from you and cups your face to wipe away your tears. “I begged my mother to send you to Dragonstone, I had no clue how to write to you gods, I was so worried I would never see you again. I had even planned for one day to fly out here myself, I guess my wish came true though I wish it were with better circumstances.”

You sniffle and smile at him. He wanted to contact you, he had dreamed of seeing you the way you had him. He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, still rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Avy jorrāelan” he mumbles to you before he pulls away. You had remembered him mentioning he wanted to become fluent in valyrian and had plans for you to learn alongside him once he began to study but due to the circumstances you never had learned any. You don't ask him what it means though you are curious he would tell you if he wanted to.

“We should continue your tour.”

Suddenly you feel as though you were eight again. Chatting with jacaerys just like when you were younger, showing him around where you grew up and he was more than happy to hear you rant about winterfell. Once the tour is finished you guide him back to the main hall where a feast had been prepared for him. He appeared shocked by this, “you shouldn't have lord stark.” “we have a prince in our mists, we must honor you.” he shakes his head and you laugh. The three of you head to the main table and take a seat. “When you mentioned it earlier I had forgotten to extend my congratulations about the betrothal-” “I am not betrothed.” jacaerys rushed out and looked at cregan alarmed. He took a glance at you as well before looking back at cregan, “I meant your brother.” jacaerys lets out an oh and looks down at the plate in front of him as you try your best not to laugh. “Yes, I am very happy for him, my lord.” “But you are not betrothed? Is there a reason?” you hold your breath as cregan asks the question you had in mind. He pauses for a moment and glances at you once more before looking at cregan. “I,, have had a lady in mind since I was younger though I do not know if she likes me as well or if even her brother would approve.” you look down at your plate and freeze as cregan roars with laughter, you do not even glance up at the two of them as you feel jacaerys stare burn into the side of your head.

he must be talking about you. You are not stupid. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Despite this being all you have ever wanted it feels so sudden. So you stand up and do not even notice the alarmed faces on cregan and jacaerys face as you rush out of the hall and even out of the walls of winterfell it all feeling so constricting. You run for a while while your head spins. You had just gone from dreaming of seeing the prince again to him basically asking for your brother's permission to wed you? You finally feel as though you are far enough and lean against a tree, your breath rapid as you close your eyes. You do not know how long you stand there, lost in your thoughts but it is certainly long enough for you to clear your head a bit. You loved him. Your time spent together today showed you clearly still did, that time has not changed you or him one bit. More so a part of you was scared of the reality of it, if you were to marry him you would one day be queen. Even the thought of marriage and motherhood terrified you, what of being the wife of the man ruling the seven kingdoms?

You hear a loud snarl and your eyes shoot open and you see a sight you know you haven't seen in over a decade. If you had thought he was big as a child he was truly terrifying now. Vermax stared at you as you were frozen where you stood. Every bone in your body shouted for you to yell but it was like the ground under you had turned into quicksand and you were stuck in your spot.

“Gīda ilagon vermax!” a voice cuts through your thoughts and suddenly jacaerys is standing between you and vermax. “Ziry iksos naejot sagon issa ābrazȳrys, ao jāhor daor ōdrikagon zȳhon” you have no clue what he says but it seems to work and vermax huffs in defeat and deflated to laying down on the floor simply staring at the two of you. Once vermax has settled jace makes his way over to you and cups your face feverishly checking you, “are you alright my lady?” “im okay im okay i promise.” he lets out a sigh of relief and presses your head to his shoulder, pulling you into a hug. He seems so worried and guilt begins to build up in your stomach. “I'm sorry.” “you have nothing to apologize for-” “i should not have run out of the room like that.”

He pauses for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say as he continues to slowly rub your back. “If what i had said in there made you unforgettable, I'm sorry forget i had even said anything. Please just don't let this ruin the friendship we have built. I will get over it if I must."He's given you an out, you could say you did not feel the same and you would not have to worry about one day being queen or one day having to be a mother to the future heir, but you wanted him. You wanted so desperately to be his wife, “I am scared.” He pulls away from you and holds your face to look at him. “Of what?” “that i will be a bad wife, a bad queen, a bad mother-” “i will not pressure you to say yes but just know i know that you could never be any of those things. You have every right to worry, be nervous of what's to come but dare I tell you I am afraid too. When my mother was on her birthing bed, covered in blood and sweat looking as if she was about to die she had said I will claim any inheritance that she has and it terrified me. Not only for the thoughts of my mother dying but I am no way prepared to be king. But that is what time is for, i shall learn, you shall learn lest you allow it, but just know you are not the only one who is scared. But I will be there for you every step of the way should you want me to.”

You swear you had never seen someone look at you with so much love in their heart as jacaerys had been right this moment. You knew the words he said to you were true, the spoken and unspoken promises he swore to you he would fulfill until the day he died. The unspoken truth, those three simple words. “I love you.” they fall off your lips so easily it is as if you were born to say them, say them to him. And you swear you had never seen him look so happy as he did when he heard you say that, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you. He had told you that earlier that day. He had always loved you. So when the two of you walked back into the main hall which was dead quiet, everyone including your brother looked upon the two of you eagerly and when jacaerys nodded at cregan the hall erupted into cheers.

The feast quickly turned into a celebration as people came up to congratulate the two of you and many more would have until you announced you would be going to see and jacaerys said he would walk you to your room leading you to dodge the look cregan had on his face.

“You have made me the happiest man in all the realms today, y/n” soon enough the two of you are standing face to face for a while just admiring each other before you take a step back towards the door. “I should head to bed.” “Of course.” Neither of you move to leave, he continues to stare at you and you end up leaning against your room door. “Would,” you pause, contemplating if you truly wish to push your limits like this, but fuck it. “Would you like to come in?” “i shouldn't.” he takes a step closer to you as you open your door and take a step inside he follows you right after, the look on his face unreadable as you smile and step further into the room until you are both in, simply just staring at one another you barely notice he closes the door and takes a long step towards you and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Almost ten years of build up to this moment and it was completely worth it. He cups your jaw and feverishly pushes his lips against yours, your hands grip his hips and he walks you back until you fall back onto your bed with a squeal. You wanted to comment that he could have warned you but he quickly climbs on top of you and continues kissing you. “We shouldn't be doing this.” he mumbles against your lips as he lazily begins to grind his hips into yours and you moan. “You're right we shouldn't.'' Instead of doing anything about it his hands begin to rub up and down your sides as he lips fall down your jaw and begin sloppily sucking on your neck. His thrusts grow quicker and more erratic by the second and your clothes suddenly feel as though they are burning your skin. “Undress me.” He wastes no time pulling and tugging at your dress until he is able to slide it down your body until you are bare before him and he stares at you with wonder. “Gevie” his hands run all over your body as he begins to kiss any inch of skin he can get his hands on, worshiping you as if you were a god sent down to him to bless him. Soon enough you are begging him to do something, though you have no clue what you are begging for, you do not know anything about what goes in bed between a man and a woman other than he sticks his cock in and you come out pregnant as told by your brother when you asked him. He sits up and begins to tug off his clothes, giving you a look of worry. “I am sorry if this will not be good. I do not know what I am doing.” “Neither do I, but we’ll learn together, isn't that what you said?” “It seems I did.” he slides the rest of his clothes off and kisses you once, one of his hands slides down and cups your sex causing you to gasp, “is this alright?” your head begins to spin as he rubs two of his fingers up and down, the squelching sound being covered up by your moan. “It is more than alright.” he has a satisfied look on his face as he continues soon adding another finger, you are so wet at this point you would not be shocked if there was a pool under your legs. If this was sinful than you shall be a sinner for life because you have never felt a greater pleasure than you had right this second.

“Can I put them in you?” “please.” Your plea is desperate as your body begins to crave more from him. He slides a finger in you and he lets out an estranged noise while you continue to moan. “You are so tight.” one finger soon turns into two which turns into three. He cannot get enough of the way you grip his fingers so tightly he believes if he were a weaker man he would not be able to pull them out of you. Though he is not confident, the way you moan, groan and plead for him to do what you are not even sure of and beg for some sort of release encourages him to be bolder, curl his fingers and begin to pump faster. He had never been so unbold, he is usually a very thoughtful man, someone who plans out his moves before doing them, unless he is blinded by rage which happens more than he would like, but with you he loses all his senses and acts in ways he swears he never would have before. He finds himself doing things he is unsure of including trying to pleasure you, though it seems to be working in his favor and you release all over his fingers.

You notice that he seems to be pausing, holding off on taking your maidenhood and you question him. “What if I am no good?” “Then as I said and as you said, we shall learn, together.”

You ignore the nerves you feel as he slowly begins to press into you and it hurts, it hurts like hell but you're sure if you wait it out it will be worth it. He laces his fingers with yours and allows you to grip his hand tightly as he works himself all the way in, “are you alright?” you take many deep breaths once he has fully pushed himself into you, “just give me a moment.” “Take as long as you need.” He kisses your collarbone and neck lightly as if his lips were feathers on your skin as he waits for you to give him the okay.

He hides it well but he is barely containing himself, your walls hugged him so tightly he feared that when you did give him the okay he would not be able to pull himself out of you. He loved you. He loved the way you felt, he loved that troubled look on your face, he loved the way your hands felt in his. He loved you so much he felt he could not breathe. Once you gave him the okay it took him a couple moments to compose himself before he began to move. With every thrust he imagined his future with you, he imagined taking you back to dragonstone to have a traditional Targaryen wedding, he imagined you round with his child who would be his heir, he imagined growing older with you and ruling by your side. Despite his fears about the upcoming war or his future he knew he could do anything as long as you stayed with him. He loves you, and he knew you did too as you allowed him to spill his speed in your and seal your union with a kiss.

Valyrian translations (all made with a translator i have no clue if these are correct)

Issa prūmia - my heart

Avy jorrāelan - i love you

Gīda ilagon - calm down

Ziry iksos naejot sagon issa ābrazȳrys, ao jāhor daor ōdrikagon zȳhon - she is to be my wife you will not harm her

Gevie - Beautiful

[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. 

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