bea♡

she/her | 19 | Esfj 6w7 |

[jacaerionspookiebear]

hi welcome to my page !

i’m bea and i’m 19 years old

this sub-blog is dedicated to aerion targaryen and jacaerys velaryon <3

filipina-german cancer sun scorpio moon pisces rising

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

bea’s masterlist:

young and beautiful

lust for life

[jacaerionspookiebear]

and if i post a rhaenyra x fem! handmaiden smut in the future then what 😫

mysaria you lucky woman..

[jacaerionspookiebear]

sorry for the delay i’ll get back to writing now 🥲

i’ve been so occupied with my new hyperfixation on bobby franklin 😭😫🤤

FAWKKKK THAT MAN IS SO FINE!!!!!!!

i think i just have a big fat crush on finn bennett cuz i need to watch all of his projects at this point 🤦‍♀️

i bought his man about town magazine and YES it will be on my coffee table book collection 🧘‍♀️

[jacaerionspookiebear]

cant believe i discovered ur blog so late but im already so in lovee !! i swear 🥹🤞

girl i love you.

you’re always reposting and liking my posts 😫🩵

[nessaegon]

Rewatching True detective and free this man from Kayla.

[bellvirine]

SPOILER WARNING

suddenly I miss micro bangs jacaerys 🥹💔

[jacaerionspookiebear]

100% honest here..i always fw his wig in s1 😭😭 especially in the last episode.

[jacaerionspookiebear]

chapter 3 already looking a bit tooooo good in drafts rn

super excited to finally post this chapter soon for you divas

gonna try writing as much as I can today and tonight so i can get it posted ASAP

preferably this week !!!!!!!

[hxtd]

𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧.* 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: female reader/description, canon divergent, profanity, targaryen!reader, incest, mentions of infertility, mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth, mentions of death, slight age gap (5 years), brothels, fellatio, coitus, virginity loss, use of Y/n

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: nobody can stop the calls of lust and envy, not even the honourable prince jacaerys. (based off THIS request)

✧.* 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4,868

blog masterlist | jacaerys velaryon masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry for that god awful smut guys I can't write it

AEMMA ARRYN REMAINED BARREN FOR FOURTEEN YEARS. Her womb bore no babe since the birth of her daughter Rhaenyra, all conceived miscarried or stillborn. King Viserys Targaryen grew to be a worried man, the pressures of an heir shoving shadow upon his back. He made his desperate attempts for an heir with no avail, but after those long years of disappointment did the queen befall with child.

The birth was enervating. The babe refused to crown, the pain excruciating. Her

Grace screamed, bone-chilling shrieks which could be heard amongst the Keep, yet the king did not hear it. He was too engrossed with the tourney he'd organised in honour of his coming son. When her plight came to his attentions, he rushed to her chambers, drained of energy with dark blood pooled between her legs.

Thus did Grand Maester Mellos present him with a near impossible decision. The king would have to choose between his child or his wife. Should he choose the latter, she would live, and he would continue as he was without a boy to inherit the Iron Throne. Choose the babe and she would die, but the realm would not.

The Stranger claimed Aemma Arryn that very day, in the utmost agony as she was cut open to claim the babe within her. However it seemed the gods truly cursed Viserys Targaryen for his terrible choice, for he was given a girl. The gruel and sacrifice was for naught.

Rhaenyra named her Y/n. She tried hardest not to hold resentment for her little sister. She was not at fault for their mother's death, rather the cause being that of their father's choice. She was a lovely tiny thing anyway, constantly smiling at her older sibling and nary uttering a cry. Still, Viserys could not look upon her, his guilt now solidified into permanence. At six months he entrusted her to Ser Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. The man was to take her to the Vale, and she would be raised by her relatives.

Y/n did not return to King's Landing since then. Growing under the eye of Jeyne Arryn (famed for her lust), she was bright and feisty and owned a considerable appetite for pleasure. At twelve she teased the household boys of the Eyrie, bestowing kisses to those she deemed the prettiest. At five and ten she was often found raising her skirts to reveal her glimpses of her legs, and by the time she was eight and ten she'd began to indulge.

"SISTER!" RHAENYRA CALLED.

The princess shuffled down the steps quickly, a smile etched on her lips. She hadn't seen Y/n in years now, too busy with the matters of court to make unnecessary trips, though they had been regularly exchanging letters by raven. She'd decided to finally return when Rhaenyra told her of her troubles. She wished to support the sister as she prepared to ascend the throne, who'd been so kind to her all these years when she could have not.

The elder woman cupped the younger's face, smiling wide and warmly. "You look wonderful, sweetling."

Rhaenyra was not wrong. Her sister's white hair was long, her lips smooth. She wore a dress of Arryn blue, fitted and silky, revealing a glimpse of her shoulders and the beginnings of her breasts. Even her hands were laden with silver and sapphire rings.

"And you," Y/n replied. "Motherhood truly befits you."

"You are too kind," Rhaenyra linked their arms together, fingers entwined, as if she was a young maiden once more. The court really had taken its toll on her.

"I speak the mere truth."

They strode into the castle together. The passing servants and noblemen whispered their greetings at her arrival, and in acknowledgement of their crown princess.

"How do things fare for you now?" Y/n questioned, using her free hand to lift her thick skirts as they walked up the stony steps. "Do they remain the same way as you said in our letters?"

"I'm afraid so," Rhaenyra answered. Her voice lowered. "I am living amidst a nest of vipers. They are waiting until I falter, so that they may sink their venom. They already poison Father."

"Well I am here now," Y/n smiled. "You need not worry any longer, sister. What are Hightowers in the face of dragons?"

Rhaenyra smiled. Her sister's reassurance did bring some comfort, but the fire of the dragon could only stoke the flames that burned atop the high-tower. They would have to use their teeth and claws.

"Are your boys well?" she asked. They both knew what she meant to say really, something that could not be admitted aloud in walls like these.

"They grow accustomed quick," Rhaenyra nodded. "In court one must hold themselves accordingly, and swiftly."

"Will Father not defend them? Stand for your claim and your family?" if it were her child it would be a different scenario, but Rhaenyra was a clear favourite. The boy-child Aegon grew and no longer did he hold the affection of their father. It was always her, always would be her.

They were to see him now, as was customary. He was still the king.

"I'd wager you would judge on that yourself."

The guards bowed and pushed open the thick doors to the king's chambers. His beloved model of Valyria of Old was now covered with a layer of dust, the speckles visible from the light of the window, and decorated with cobwebs. A smell of death hung in the air, smoke and sweetness and rot.

The once renowned Viserys Targaryen I could've been called a corpse. He was a husk of a man, skin on bone, hardly any flesh between. He'd lost his eye and most of his white hair, which had thinned into sad strands at the back of his head. He wore a splendid gold shirt, completed with ruffles at the collar. The gaudy garment did nothing to disguise his state, or better it.

"Father," Rhaenyra began slowly. They crept to his bedside. Y/n's nose wrinkled.

A rasp escaped throat, weak and hoarse. He sounded as terrible as he looked.

"Father," she repeated. "My sister is here. Y/n. Remember?"

The king rolled ever so slightly, gazing at his daughter. "Y/n. I... You were sent to the Vale, were you not?"

"I was, Father," she smiled tightly.

"Because I lost my Aemma," he whispered.

Her face fell as she sucked in air.

"Father-" Rhaenyra tried.

"You took my Aemma," he rasped. He was agitated now, his breaths growing rapid and panicked. "You took her!"

"She did not-"

The king released a pained groan. He clutched at his eye socket, writhing. Every muscle in her face froze. She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her.

"Maester! We require a maester!" Rhaenyra called. She turned, clutching her sister's palms together.

Grand Maester Orwyle promptly arrived, a slew of his trainees behind him. They got to work straight away. The women left, now on their way to the courtyard. They engaged in regular chatter, where she would stay, what she would do whilst she was there.

"I do not know why we even bothered," she drawled.

"Y/n..."

"Do not speak of it any longer, sister," she interrupted. "All I need tonight is a cup of strong wine and a place in the Street of Silk."

"Lady Jeyne truly made something of you," Rhaenyra sighed. She didn't sound as if she were insulting her though, rather the regular tease between siblings.

"She is actually rather sweet."

They laughed.

"Here they are," Rhaenyra announced.

Even their delicate slippers crunched upon the gravelly courtyard floor. In the midst were two youths, both dark of hair. The shorter of the two wore teal. The taller wore black and red. She knew instantly they were her nephews.

"Jace, Luke!" their mother called. "Come here."

Y/n smiled at their approached. They were both comely lads, who seemed polite of disposition.

""Tis your aunt," she announced. "My mother's last child."

"Hello," Lucerys beamed. She touched his shoulder and returned the greeting.

Jacaerys was quieter. She swore she saw his irises flit up from bottom to up before he supplied a single nod. "My lady."

"I remember you," she recalled, cocking her head. "Mayhaps I was five or six. You were just a babe."

"I no longer remain a babe, my lady," he smiled. She suspected there was more beyond it, though his pink lips certainly looked enticing. They looked plumper and smoother than most men she'd kissed.

"That is clear, for certain," she grinned, her head tilting by a fraction to the side. "Well. My deepest apologies, my journey has tired me. I would require rest, before the feast tonight."

"There is to be a feast?" Lucerys inquired excitedly.

"Yes," Rhaenyra stroked his head. "In honour of your dear aunt."

His beam brightened and he glanced towards Y/n with joyous and grateful eyes. She winked.

"I'll see you all tonight," she confirmed. She hugged her sister quick and gave the boys both a touch on their arms, turning to find the room Rhaenyra had told her of during their walk.

JACAERYS POSSESSED A DILEMMA. He did not expect his aunt to be the loveliest of maidens, and he didn't expect himself to be as entranced as he was. He'd seen much beautiful women before, and even when he was a boy growing to man he did not feel nearly so puppy-eyed and helpless.

The way she smiled, and touched him. He was making a mountain of a molehill with the fleeting interactions he shared with her, acting as if she'd caressed him as a lover when it was more so a tap on his clothed arm.

"Why haven't we met her before, Mother?" Luke asked.

"Other than the treacherous journey that is the Eyrie... she is not fond of King's Landing," Rhaenyra explained. "My father... he cast her out as a babe, because to him she had come out a girl and killed my mother."

"That is entirely unfair," Jacaerys argued, brows knitting together. He misliked hearing such egregious tales, and was even growing appalled that his own grandsire might act in a manner, one which he'd disdained since childhood.

"So it is," his mother agreed. "And yet there is naught we can do."

"How does she fare?" he questioned.

"We all have our shadows," she replied. "But she does better than most who carry burdens," she looked aside, to where her sister had stood just now. "Finish your training within the hour. I should expect you both presentable this evening."

"Yes, Mother," they chorused.

Jacaerys wiped the sweat from his forehead, spinning his sword. He didn't want to initiate another spar with Luke, far too consumed with his thoughts and a stirring in his loins.

"Jace?" he heard his brother as he walked away from the courtyard.

"I'm tired too, Luke," he called back without looking behind. "We'll continue tomorrow. Promise."

He placed the wooden blade back upon the rack beside the dummies. Luke did the very same, jogging up to his brother who smirked and mussed his hair.

"You think she's pretty," his younger brother commented, sporting a similar smirk, one that rendered Jacaerys pink-cheeked and silent.

"No," he denied.

"You had that look," Luke continued. "You've only had that once or twice before. That serving girl when you were ten. And the Dornish when you were fourteen."

"Hold your tongue, brother," he said as he rolled his eyes. His nose was probably bright red by now.

Lucerys complied, though it did nothing to stop his suspicions.

They parted ways when they reached the hall that contained their rooms. Jacaerys walked further down to his, and pushed his door open. Water was already hanging above his fireplace. He'd instructed his maids to prepare hot water every time he left to train, that way they need not rush to get it and he could wash as soon as he returned.

He covered his palm with a thick old cloth and lifted the metal basin, careful to take slow steps and steady hands. He shuffled over to his tub and tilted his hold, water pouring in, steam curling off the surface.

He easily removed the flimsy shirt he wore for his training, and undid the laces of his breeches. They dropped to the floor and he tested the water with the tips of his fingers. He lifted his leg and entered the tub, allowing the warmth to melt into his bones. "Gods."

His aunt plagued his mind. He kept thinking about her, her face, her body, her mannerism. She was invigorating, and he was oh so tempted.

He wore his best doublet to the feast, dark red and with subtle embroidery of a lighter shade. He even wetted his curls, ridding them off their dishevelled state and frizz. Luke eyed his appearance warily when they met, but he didn't comment on it in front of their mother.

Y/n arrived just moments after they did, half an hour before the guest came spilling in. She'd decided on a dark blue, close to black but the sheen of the fabric gave the colour away. Half her hair was braided behind her head, inlaid with pearls of various sizes. Her fingers were crowded with silver rings, matching her slippers hidden beneath her long skirts.

He was going to talk to her, at least that was what he promised himself. Until she was swept off her feet by none other than his little brother. Luke had eyed him as he spun with his aunt. She giggled at him good-naturedly, indulging in his boyish antics. She didn't realise the intention behind it.

"Oh nephew," came a rasping voice.

Fucking Aegon, Jacaerys thought. He'd no time nor energy to handle two jokers.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Have some wine," his uncle slumped into the next seat over. "You look staunchly bereft."

"I care not for wine," Jacaerys mumbled back.

"Of course," Aegon snarked. "You needn't worry, I suppose."

"Worry about what?"

"The little brat is obviously too young for her," he pointed out, gesturing with his cup. "And even if it were you dancing with her now, she wouldn't be interested beyond it."

"Why?" he blurted, wishing he could stuff his words back into his mouth. Then again, it was only Aegon. He was a damned fool most of the time.

"There are rumours," Aegon began. "More so fact, I believe. You know of my endeavours, nephew. As it turns out, your little auntie also frequents the Street of Silk when she happens upon King's Landing. Even in the Vale— the whores are all friends you see, they know the happenings of the other brothels— she finds a way for her pleasure. I'd think she'll be slipping off tonight, when you're all asleep. Mayhaps she will even leave now."

"You're lying," said Jacaerys. It wasn't that he didn't think she visited the brothels, really. Only the thought of her and another person...

"I lie many times, nephew. This, I do not," Aegon shrugged.

He did not say anything back now. He watched Y/n, twirling with his little brother. He tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy in the pit of his stomach, the basest of emotions.

"Good luck then," his uncle snorted, picking up the pitcher of wine on the table and sauntering off.

He watched the whole night. Jacaerys was transfixed for many a reason. He wondered where she would go. She looked beautiful.

At one point in the night, she sent him a sweet gaze. He took a sharp intake of breath as he watched her approach.

"Will you not dance tonight, Jace?"

Jace. She called him by his nickname. He rarely permitted others to use it, only those he was closest to, and begrudgingly, his uncles.

"My mood does not call for it, I fear," he replied curtly.

"Oh come now," she grabbed his wrist and tugged his arm. "'Tis my first night here. Indulge me, will you not?"

Indulge her. Gods, he wanted to.

"Very well," he mumbled, cheeks flushing.

"You and your brother are exceptional dancers," she complimented, the elegance and precision of his steps evident. "My sister taught you well."

"My father was quite good on his feet too," he admitted. "Ser Laenor."

"Ah Laenor," she nodded. "Do you miss him?"

"Some days." he was never one to dwell on the past, but he allowed himself to feel wistful over the loss of the knight. He was integral when he was a boy.

"I see he taught you to be a gentleman too," she leaned closer. "You do not have to be meek."

She took his arm and slid them all around her waist, securing it into place. Their hands, once mere palms touching, became tangled fingers. She was pressed right against him. He wanted to shift, to release the tension he felt in his core.

"I did not take you to be the shy one," she cooed.

"I am not."

"Then why have you frozen?"

"I have not either."

"Let go, Jace," she spun, his eyes catching hers in the blur.

WHAT WAS HE DOING?

Y/n left the feast earlier than expected, brewing another excuse of fatigue and overwhelming sensations. He should've accepted it. Why would he doubt a lady? And yet he found himself with a cloak draped upon his shoulders sneaking out of the Red Keep.

The sky was near pitch black, but the city was lit up and bustling. She had no shame, it was apparent. She wore her long white curls free and manoeuvred threw the crowds with graceful ease. Each time she stopped he would find a wall or a pillar or a stall to hide behind, heart pounding at the adrenaline and the thought of being caught.

She came by a certain part of the city now, the smell bordering on sour rather than plainly putrid. More men frequented the area, from skinny and frail to burly and tall. Once the moans grew loud, he realised Aegon's words had been right. This was the Street of Silk, and she had come to find pleasure for the night.

He averted his eyes from the lewd scenes around him, a woman choking on her knees, lovers pressed against the stone. He did take peeks at the brothels and whorehouses, tall and downtrodden buildings with bare-chested women lingering at the windows, blowing kisses and crooning high-pitched giggles.

Her lack of hesitance showed she knew where to go, avoiding the darker alleys but also the suspiciously bright housings. He saw her enter the second brothel from the last, a tall establishment with many red and purple curtains.

He waited just outside for a minute or two, so not to look so obvious. Once he finally reached the inside, he saw her disappearing up a flight of stairs. With a curse, Jacaerys darted as swiftly and as quietly as he could.

"I have an array for you, my lady," he heard coming from the third door. Luckily, it hadn't been locked, so he pushed it open enough to see through a thin crack. Y/n was standing with an older woman. In front of her, was a row of men. He felt that wrenching sensation again, his mouth curving downwards as he saw her pace and eye each one.

"You," she decided, pointing at a fairly tall man. He possessed waves of brown, and a lean and tall build.

"As you wish, my lady," the woman bowed and escorted the men towards the door.

Jacaerys' eyes widened. He pulled his cloak further down his face and flattened himself against the wall.

He took their receding footsteps as his cue, reopening the sliver of space that allowed him to peer in on the inside. His aunt was kissing the man, much wetter than anything even Daemon and Rhaenyra shared. She had her digits entwined with his hair, and one of his large hands splayed across her arse.

The heat rushed through him, lust and anger all in one great gust. However, he couldn't look away.

She pushed the man to the edge of the bed, stripping down his barely-there breeches. His manhood sprung straight up, which she promptly situated herself on and undulated her hips firmly. She sighed, gripping onto him as her neck arched and her eyes squinted shut. Jacaerys' own cock hardened, straining at his garments.

He was conflicted. The scene was surely arousing, but it wasn't him. He'd doubt it would ever be him, but would there ever be a time it was?

When her moans grew loud and she writhed, he tore his eyes away.

Jacaerys frowned deep. His pulse hammered inside him and he pursed his lips. There was nothing else to come of this night.

SEEING HER NOW WAS A DIFFERENT KIND OF TORTURE.

He'd seen her at breakfast, this time in a teal shade alike that of House Velaryon's. Yet when he gazed at her all he could see was her form atop a whore's, convulsing in the pleasure he should be giving to her.

Evening fell again. He would think she was making another escapade to the Street of Silk. Jealous he was, yes. But she was allowed to do whatever she wished. It wasn't his choice.

The bow string was taught on his cheek, pressing an indent into the flesh. Despite the darker skies, he was determined to take his mind off things. Stupid things.

He drew back, then...

THUD! Straight into the bullseye.

"Impressive."

Jacaerys inhaled sharply, hesitantly glancing toward the voice.

Y/n smiled at him, a glint in her eyes. "In such low lights."

"I suppose."

"Then again," she made slow steps towards him. "A bullseye is impressive anyway."

"With the right practice, it need not be difficult," he moved to the next target and picked up another arrow.

"May I?" she asked innocently.

"May you what?" he spoke gruffly.

"Try," she gestured to the bow.

"Very well," he conceded, offering the weapons to her.

She took the bow in her hand, the arrow in the other and walked in front of the pending target.

"So I just...?" she managed to notch in the arrow and drew it back, but her elbow stuck out strangely and her feet stood at different angles.

"Put your feet straight," he instructed. "Parallel with your shoulders."

"Right," she looked down to do so, shifting into the right stance.

"Your arm..." he loured. "It's..."

"It's what?" she laughed. "Am I truly so misfitted for archery?"

"No," he huffed. He stood behind her, hands raising to adjust her. He lowered her shoulder, moving and pushing bones and muscles into place. Tentatively, his fingers creeped to her chin, manoeuvring it into the right position. So close to her lips. "Let go."

THUD! Not precisely in the center, a little to the bottom left.

"Practice," he cleared his throat. "As I said. Now you know."

He moved away as if he was stung, almost jolting.

"Jacaerys?" he heard. He didn't turn back, his strides back to the castle determined and unwavering.

Again, he'd brought this onto himself. He had the option not to near her, not to touch her.

His fists clenched tightly. He needed to calm himself, to find sleep. But he doubted he could even find reprieve there. Surely she would worm her way into his dreams.

He slammed the door, expecting to hear the crashing noise, only he didn't.

"That was quite rude."

Y/n's tone bore no enmity, another one of her teases.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

She closed the door, taken aback by his harshness. "I want to talk with you."

"What could you possibly have to say?"

"You've been avoiding me all day," she pointed out. "And I thought we were sharing a moment together but you left, quite abruptly."

"I've been out all day, I'm tired," he tried.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Well I do not believe that."

"Believe what you will."

"Jace!" she exclaimed. "Please."

"Please what?" he returned.

"I am not a person who likes to leave animosities unresolved," she stated. "I will only leave this chamber if you tell me the truth."

Heat flared up his neck. He knew that she was telling true, and he had no other path out of this. "I saw you."

"Saw me?" her eyebrow raised.

"Last night," he feared to even move. "In... the city."

"What?"

"The brothel," he blurted. "I saw you in the brothel. With that man."

He expected an outburst, even a slap for gazing upon her indecencies. He only saw her intrigue. "...And?"

He knew what she meant. If he didn't care, it would have no effect on him.

"I was jealous," he spat. "Fucking jealous. And I cannot stand to be in your presence because that night keeps returning to my thoughts, knowing I was not in his place."

They were quiet.

"You wish to be in his place?" she asked, nearing him.

"Have you seen yourself?" he scoffed.

Her teeth were digging into her bottom lip. She cupped one side of his face, stroking up and down and running through his dark hair. Jacaerys sucked in a sharp breath of air, eyes shutting.

"Jealous," she tutted. "It's not good being jealous."

"Mm..." he leaned closer to her palm.

"But I'm flattered," she admitted. Her lips were exceedingly close now.

She kissed along his cheekbone, eventually moving to his mouth. He groaned quietly, so sweet to finally have her. He didn't believe this was happening.

Her expertise was clear in the way she kissed him, smooth and perfectly arousing. Her tongue slipped in, sliding against his own. He was melting, Harrenhal to dragonflame.

"Sit," she whispered, gently pushing him to the edge of the bed. He stumbled backwards and landed on his behind, staring with trembling breaths as she descended to her knees. "May I?"

Jacaerys nodded fast, eager not even being able to describe the sheer willingness he felt so far for this.

She undid the laces of his breeches in mere seconds, already pulling them down along with his small clothes. His cock sprang out after them, hard and aching. Y/n stared unabashedly. She grazed over the length of it, the corner of her mouth lifting when his hips already began to buck.

She pressed a kiss to his tip, resulting in a hiss. She suckled there momentarily, her mouth then widening to fit the rest of him.

Surely this is heaven, he thought, peering down at her through bleary eyes. She was bobbing her head up and down, fondling his balls and the rest of him that she couldn't fit. Jacaerys moaned. His breaths were harsh and the pleasure was building so rapidly he had no thought in his mind but her.

The way she pulled off him, sliding her mouth down him entirely and letting go. Jacaerys whined, feeling incomplete without the feel of her.

A second time did she cup his cheek. "Patience," she rose from the floor, standing above him. "Is this your first?"

He flushed, nodding.

"We mustn't waste this, hm?" she pecked him softly. "Go lie down, sweet boy."

He clambered up to the middle of the bed, laying on the pillows. She hefted herself up, placing her knees on either side of him. She didn't lower herself yet, the most infuriating thing he'd ever experienced so far. She smiled. He was beautiful like this, spread out for her and desperate.

"Please," he whispered.

"Please?" she repeated. "Very well then."

She undid the laces of her dress, making sure to keep eye contact with him through the whole time. She tossed away the fabric and the small clothes beneath, revealing to him her breasts and her wet cunt.

Finally, she positioned herself atop him, teasing his head once more until she sunk down. Even she sighed in satisfaction. "Gods."

Jacaerys himself couldn't get a word out, only a string of incoherent curses and moans. This was better than anything he'd imagined or read, and for it to be with the most beautiful women he knew? He was expecting to be pinched and woken up.

Her first movement sent another wave of pleasure through him, a movement of her hips down into his. He gripped onto her hips tight, helping to guide her up and down. She was confident in this, increasing pace with each bounce. He was loud and lost.

The room was enveloped with nothing but the sounds of their fucking, their own noises and the slap of skin.

She sensed he was quickly approaching his climax, expected from someone inexperienced as he was. She rubbed at her pearl to speed up her own, moving faster and faster. Her final bounce sent him straight over the edge, shooting his release into her. She cried out as she joined him, nearly falling over him. '

Immediately he cradled her, wrapping an arm around her and cuddling close.

"I hope I pleased, dear nephew," she teased softly.

"More than that," he confirmed.

"I'm glad," she said.

Jacaerys could most certainly say he was gladder.

Jacaerys Velaryon Tag List: @jacespookiebear @kimm4710 @januarybella @jacesvelaryons @diiickbrainn

@ireneispunk @mirukkuvanilla @jacaerysgf @aegonswife

[hxtd]

Wait yall I lowk ate this tf up go read again

[jacaerionspookiebear]

ur making me miss my man a little too much lea ☹️☹️☹️☹️

[jacaerionspookiebear]

you girlies are blowing up my asks for chapter 3 ITS COMING!! 😫😫😫 IM COOKING RIGHT NOW TRUST ME!! i’m rewatching season 1 hotd rn as im writing on my ipad guys trust me PLEASE

me and @hxtd had to be out of commission due to the fact our man died on the big screen..

i’m still not over it.

fuck ryan condal. 👎

[jacaerionspookiebear]

mama is not happy tonight 😒 those showrunners need to die right now!!!

[jacaerionspookiebear]

With the new season out, would you be continuing “young and beautiful”? No pressure if so or not just curious. Have a good day! 🫶🏼

hiiii !! actually if i’m being completely honest..and don’t hate me divas 🙂‍↕️ but im genuinely unsure on what i want to do with y&b..not because i hate my work or anything of that sorts—i just don’t know how to continue it anymore and i just get brainfart whenever i try writing chapter 9

that’s not to say i’m completely discontinuing it !! at this time, i’m just not focused on it—i’m more focused on l4l right now 😋🙈

[jacaerionspookiebear]

You, yes you 🫵

Your Jacaerys fanfic is the best. Thank you for the good work 🫰

OMGGG thank you guys sm !!! my love for jace is finally being recognized 😭🩵🩵🙏🙏🙏

i love all the support u guys have given me thank you <33

[jacaerionspookiebear]

abt to answer all of my inboxes !! so sorry abt the hold up :)) i love reading ur guys inboxes <33

[jacaerionspookiebear]

BACK FROM HIATUS CUZ A BITCH PASSED THIS SEMESTER WITH ALL A’S YALL GETTING FED THIS SUMMER !!!!

[jacaerionspookiebear]

hi guys ! quick update

i haven’t been that active since my midterms is beginning and i have five classes this semester and i have three midterms left to complete so i’ve haven’t started on the next chapter yet

this is basically a small hiatus for the next few weeks but i will be writing every now and then to hopefully upload chapter 3 after i finish my mid terms 🥹🫰🏼

i will keep you all updated !

thank you for the sweet messages and support i love you all

i will respond to my inboxes soon <3

[hxtd]

𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑖 𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑠 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧.* 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: female reader/description, canon divergent, use of y/n, dayne!reader, aerion targaryen, mentions of violence, mentions of death, mentions of brothels, canonical use of incest, sex pollen, kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, coitus

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: prince aerion is sent to lys for his sins, much to the sadness of his dear cousin. he returns a different man, endowed with new gifts.

✧.* 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 5,330

blog masterlist | aerion targaryen masterlist

A/N: Ending/smut bit is so ass I'm so sorry

AERION HAD NOT ALWAYS BEEN CRUEL. He used to be like any other child, possessing a mind brimming with curiosity, and wide eyes ready to consume the unknown. That's why he befriended Lady Y/n. She was certain if they'd began their relationship as he was now, she'd no chance of getting close to him at all. He'd locked the gates to his heart early in age.

She was his cousin, really. A Dayne of his mother's lineage. She remained in Dorne for the most part, but he and his brother were sent down south during the first Blackfyre rebellion, keeping safe from the fighting. That was the first they met, and they'd resonated well. They'd chase the fishes in the royal ponds, feet bare, curls flying. They'd attempt to read the long and difficult tomes in the libraries, to prove early progression of their minds and superiority to their peers. But they would commonly find themselves slumped against the shelves, deep in sleep. Those were her warmest memories.

Naturally, Aerion returned to King's Landing when the war was done, but his visits back were frequent. Prince Maekar adored his lady wife, and returned to Dorne upon any of her wishes. So, the two were almost raised in unison. Despite this, everything shifted in the passage of childhood to adulthood.

Aerion grew up to be as handsome as the men of his house were renowned. Pale, silver-gold hair and eyes like amethysts, with a jaw seemingly cut from marble. He was not particularly tall, but he was willowy enough to appear so. Still, he managed to coat himself with defined muscle, honed from diligent training. But his body was not the only thing that changed. She felt it, a darkness stir in his soul. His gaze was no longer like it used to be. It held glimmers of light, like fragments of the guiding star of their forefathers. The light did remain now, yet she saw nothing of the adornments of the night sky, rather... burning wildfire.

When his cruelty made itself known a few years later, she couldn’t say she didn’t expect it. Unfortunately, she still felt so compelled by him and couldn't see him any differently. That was her dear Aerion, the boy of her youth, and possibly nothing in the world could ever change that. Anyways, he was not cruel to her and as selfish as it was, that was all that mattered.

Y/n had wished terribly to join her cousins at the tourney of Ashford Meadow. She wanted to sit at the royal box, cheer for the knights, and toss Aerion her favour. Maybe he would've named her his Queen of Love and Beauty if he'd won. But her parents declined, insisting the castle had no more rooms to host them and that they would visit King's Landing later on instead, much to her dismay.

Her insides fluttered as the carriage approached the coral bricks of the Red Keep. This was the longest she’d gone without seeing Aerion, and she wanted to know everything about the joust. She was sure he’d won, unless his cousin Valarr had joined the lists. She knew he was a fair fighter, and she could admit (to everyone except for her cousin) that he could possibly beat him.

She ignored the outstretched hand that was offered to her when the carriage door was open, choosing to jump down and rush forward to the entrance. Prince Maekar stood there, along with a hunched Daeron and his daughters, Rhae and Daella. She smiled at them, and all returned it, except of course for Daeron. He could only struggle to lift his head and nod in acknowledgement.

"It is good to see you, Y/n," Maekar greeted.

"Thank you, my prince," she bowed her head momentarily.

She made sure to greet everyone properly, curtseys and cheek kisses. After breaking away from an embrace with Daella, she turned back to Prince Maekar, biting her lip to stifle her erupting grin. "Where is Aerion?"

She knew what he thought of proper welcomes. He saw them tedious and unnecessary. He was a Targaryen, and any visitor should come to him, even his favourite cousin. She'd smacked him across the back of his head for it.

"...Preparing in his room," Maekar replied, almost hesitantly.

She frowned. "Preparing for what?"

"He's going to Lys, Y/n."

"Lys?" she repeated loudly. "Whatever for?"

"It is his exile."

"What?"

"I've tolerated him for the last time," said Maekar firmly.

"I do not understand..."

"Find him and let him explain it himself."

Prince Maker obviously did not want to talk, for whatever reason it was. Aerion must have maimed this time, rather than wounded. She provided the elder man a final look of confusion and upset, lifting her orchid-coloured skirts to walk up the short steps to the door.

Her steps were quick and frantic. She sprinted through halls and ran up stairs. She did not knock when she reached Aerions' door, shoving it forcefully and entering loudly. Her chest rose and fell with her hard breaths.

Aerion looked back at her. He was stood in front of his bed, a large open satchel in the midst of strewn clothes and trinkets. His hair was cropped shorter than the last she'd seen him, but his roguish face remained the same.

"I take it you heard the news?"

"What happened, Aerion?" she stepped forward, brows remaining knitted. "What have you done now?"

"I was defending my family, if you must know," he explained casually, folding a red doublet into the satchel whilst tossing a black one aside. "I saw disrespect to the Targaryen name, and I brought apt retribution. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with it."

"You know I hate when you speak in riddles."

His tongue curled over his upper lip. He sighed. "I saw this puppet girl. And she'd killed a puppet dragon in her ridiculous little show. I saw it fit to break her fingers, but this stupid excuse of a knight attacked me for it. Naturally, he was to be punished, but I wanted to host a Trial of the Seven, like King Maegor."

"And?" she urged.

"We fought. I lost. And now Prince Baelor is dead."

"Prince Baelor is dead?"

"Yes," Aerion swallowed. "Volunteered for the oaf but got his skull smacked by my father's mace when he was trying to save me."

"No..."

"It was an accident, of course," Aerion said. He picked up a small figurine of a golden dragon, rotating it with his nimble fingers for examination. He placed it in the satchel.

"And now you are leaving?"

"Indeed. My ship leaves within the hour, actually. It appears Father cannot bear to stand my presence any moment longer than necessary."

"Within the hour?" she gasped. She approached him closely, twining her hands together if only to stop herself from taking his. "And when shall you return?"

"I do not know," he shrugged. "In a year. Or five."

She scoffed, ignoring the nausea blooming in her chest at the prospect of five years with him so far away. "You seem to care so little. Of leaving your home, your family."

Of leaving me.

"You know I am one to mask my feelings," his violet irises darted to her form. "Besides, do you think wailing and blubbering shall earn me my father's forgiveness? Should you think I shall appear as if I have changed? Everybody would think it is a farce of mine. It does not matter anyway. They all hate me. They're all glad of me gone, and Lys is a city of pleasure. I will enjoy this."

"I am not," she claimed desperately, completely disregarding his musings of Lys. Her hands broke free of her will, flying to latch onto his forearm. "I do not hate you."

Aerion turned to her wholly now. She saw him swallow again. A nervous habit of his that nobody else seemed to discern. He could always keep strength in his expression, a talent which she envied. Her face revealed everything and all.

He took her chin between her fingers, and her heart raced. Every ugly desire wormed its way out from the core of her being, ones she'd stuffed into coffins and thrown into the abyss, for fear it would break whatever precarious dance she'd spun with him. His coldness was volatile. She knew him better than anyone, but she could not read minds. She was always scared, always tiptoeing on eggshells. One step too forward and what if his treatment of her shifted to his treatment of the rest of his family?

"Of course you do," he said, and she could not descry if he was making a mockery of her.

"I will miss you," she whispered, the first stings of tears pricking at her eyes.

"I know."

He relinquished his touch from her, deciding to take a ruby ring from his side table, and slipped it into his bag. "I should go."

"Aerio-"

"Don't make this difficult." 

He slung the satchel over his shoulder and licked his lips when he'd looked upon his rooms for what would likely be the final time in a long time. His gaze never met her again.

"Goodbye."

FIVE YEARS. She spent five years without Aerion. She joined less and less to her family’s travels. What was the point of going if he was not there for her to meet? She liked the rest of her cousins enough, but they were not him. She had not forged anything as substantial with anyone else in the world. And now he was gone, with unclear prospects of his return. Would he ever return? Perhaps he’d grown accustomed to Lys. It was a life of freedom, she could tell. Endless days of carnal pleasures with beautiful women resembling the old Valyrians. She knew he’d relish them, with his obsession with the blood of the dragon. The place was a stark comparison to the stiffness of Westeros. Except for Dorne. Could he not live in Dorne instead? They were similar enough to be sure. He could live with her, and she would offer him far more happiness than any Lyseni whore ever could.  

She hadn’t been allowed to even entertain the idea of going to Lys. Her parents shut her down immediately. Prince Maekar would be more than upset if he knew, and the last thing they wanted to do was disrespect the cherished lover of their dear Dyanna, much more disrespect a member of House Targaryen. She was only rendered to utter misery from it. She’d meant what she’d said. She missed Aerion terribly, and she would often visit the harbour to gaze longingly at the ships going to, or from the Free Cities. The temptation scorched. 

"We are going to King’s Landing soon," said her mother one bright morning at breakfast. 

She'd been having a good day thus far. The flatbread the cooks had made today was warm and fluffy, and the olives had been picked and pressed at just the right time, making their oil especially delectable. Although bright, it was not overtly warm, with breezes swooping gently between the pillars of their outdoor dining hall.

"I do not wish to go." 

"You never go anymore." 

"Why should I?" she huffed, spearing her fork into a rather thick slab of ham. "Without Aerion it is dull." 

"I cannot believe you remain stubborn about this," her father retorted, taking a long sip from his goblet of wine. "It has been five years. How have you not yet accustomed yourself?" 

She did not reply. She despised to admit her father was right. She should have accustomed herself four years past, but she hadn’t. She cursed her unwaveringly loyal heart, wishing it would taint with dishonour or hatred. 

"I love him, Father," she mumbled. "I suppose that is all there is to it."

Her father exuded a sigh. His eyes were closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you think he reciprocates? That he longingly awaits for you in Lys, of all places?"

"Love is not only romantic, Father," she closed her eyes, humiliation blooming warm on her cheeks. "As a cousin, I am certain he does."

"I'd wager he's all but remembered his life in Westeros," her father continued. He could not hold his wine as he did before, with age, and his words of inebriation were always sharp as thorns. "Lys offers more pleasures than even Dorne. I honestly do not know what Prince Maekar thought he was doing by exiling him there. He is so soft on the boy."

"Prince Maekar's children are the last reminder he has of Auntie Dyanna," she defended. She'd released her utensils, and they shrilly interrupted the otherwise peaceful atmosphere with their noisy clattering upon the porcelain. "Or at the very least, he sees who Aerion used to be and still believes he can change."

"A fruitless pursuit that'd be if it were true," mused her father. "Lys. The very idea..."

She resorted back to eating. She saw her siblings staring upon her, half sympathetic and half brimming with judgement. Her mother was looking elsewhere.

"It is decided then. You are coming this time."

"Father-"

"It is decided."

TRIED AS SHE DID, Y/n could not sway her father. He was utterly impossible, and threatened to lock her in her rooms since that was what she appeared to desire most.

She often roused herself to sleep during her times in the carriage, bringing along a tea to do so. In her dreams, she would often find Aerion. Oh, if she could retreat to slumber the whole of this miserable visit.

She accepted the hand to help her down the carriage. Prince Maekar and his family were presenting as usual, and she greeted them like she'd always done.

"Wonder why you decided to come this time," murmured Maekar, a hint of cheek present in his voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're always a little behind it seems," Maekar chuckled.

Her face set in a slight scowl. Always riddles with the dragon. Not care for anything at the moment, she chose to go straight to her typical guest rooms and open the book she'd been reading on the road, when her tea lost its effects.

She still remained to be slightly sluggish however, her footsteps a little misguided and her head low. She only looked down upon the stone floors, the world at her periphery mere smudges and blurs.

"Ah-" she hissed, when a harsh shoulder collided with her own.

"You know, if you looked where you were going-"

"Aerion?"

She knew his voice. She would always know his voice, even now if it were tinged with a hint of Lyseni tone. It was smooth like a small river cascading upon tiny rocks, with the bite of a summer wind. And her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up and her eyes met with amethysts.

She saw him swallow, prominent Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. His irises raked up and down before settling. His feet shifted. He was uncomfortable.

"I did not think you would be coming."

"What are you doing here?"

"I am... in my home?"

"I meant, you are already back from Lys?" she rolled her eyes. "Did you send a raven? Or perhaps you have just come back and the raven arrived in Dorne when we were already on our way here-"

"I did not send a raven. Nor did my father, or anyone, for that matter. I know you will ask."

She smiled. "So you know me still."

Then it faded. "Why haven't you sent a letter?"

"I thought it unnecessary," he said pointedly.

"Why?"

"I am only returning home. It is not something to make a fuss of."

"It's been five years, Aerion," she exhaled. "You were my dearest friend. I would want to know."

"I was truly your dearest friend?"

"Oh don't do that, Aerion. You know that I was yours too."

"Apologies, then."

"You don't seem the least bit remorseful!"

"You know me enough to know I hardly feel remorse."

"Even for me?"

He pursed his lips. "Even for you."

Tears began to claw behind her eyes, sharp nails sinking and shaking to release. And for the first time, she was not exempt from the cruelty of Aerion Brightflame. "I see."

"I'm glad."

Shame burned her cheeks warm. She could not look upon him any longer. "Very well."

IT WAS TORTURE. It was utter torture, to see him each day and choose to ignore him. She doubted he even cared, considering his indifference for her now, and she didn't know how he could. Five years. And each night before she slept, she would think it another day closer to forcing his awkward arms to hold her again, ones that were unfamiliar towards affection since the passing of his dear mother.

King Aerys had hosted some frivolous garden party the following week, which seemed completely out of the norm for the studious successor. Y/n suspected he was only trying to leech gossip from the gaggles of noble ladies, so that he may use the knowledge to control his subjects.

But, she liked parties, in truth. She wore a pale lavender for the occasion, and chose her favourite golden accessories, the ones that resembled vines and flowers. The sky shone a clear blue that day, and the sun was more forgiving with its glowing rays. She felt a soft breeze kiss against her collarbone, and took a sip from her chilled glass of Arbor Gold.

Not even Aerion could ruin this lovely day.

Or so she thought.

She spied him conversing with young lady, pale of skin with chestnut toned hair. She was wearing a sage green. He was leaning in as she spoke, offering nods and a rare smile.

She looked away, and her sight was met with a young lordling.

"Good day, my lord," she bowed her head.

"Good day, my lady," the lord replied.

He was handsome enough, a well-cut chin and sapphire eyes. He had on a doublet the same shade as the latter, and his hair was a brown that leaned slightly light. But nothing could compare to Aerion's sharp Valyrian beauty.

"Lord Cressey," he grinned politely, waiting for her hand to place a kiss upon the back of it.

"Lord Cressey," she repeated. "'Tis an honour."

The lord barked out short but raucous laughter. "You already flatter too much, my lady. What is a Cressey compared to a Dayne of Starfall? Many do not even know where we rule."

"Nonsense," she chuckled. "We are all of the same rank."

"You are too kind," Lord Cressey's grin widened. "Enchanting as they say, in beauty and in countenance."

"Pardon?"

"My apologies if I am too forward, my lady," he said. "But there are many who sing praises of your House, and I cannot help but acknowledge such praises are true."

He took a pause, staring deeply at her. "Your eyes are... truly remarkable."

Her eyes were not completely violet like her father's, nor like Aerion's, matter of fact. It did not mean she hated them at all, in fact she was quite fond of them, a rich shade of indigo settled between deep blue and vibrant purple. Like the night sky in the summer.

Whilst the compliment was charming to hear, the dazed look he grew in his own expression sent a slight wave of concern roll throughout her.

"Forgive me, my lady," he looked downwards. "I cannot help it. My uncle used to tell me I was always so forward, even since childhood. But my aunt says that some ladies seem to like that sort of thing, and that someone as forward as I should find someone I am akin to. I heard you did not even want to return to King's Landing, my lady?"

"That is correct," she replied.

She could not fault someone for the traits they'd developed in their youth. She relaxed herself, letting herself fall into this ordeal with Lord Cressey. Anything to put Aerion out from her mind.

"Defiance and forwardness ought to be the same thing," said Cressey. "Do you think so, my lady?"

"I suppose," she pressed her lips together.

"Do you suppose we are like-minded then, my lady?"

"I suppose," she said once more.

"Then perhaps... you would not be averse to my courting of you?"

"Excuse me?"

Lord Cressey laughed lightly. "Courting, my lady. I wish to court you."

"I mean not to offend, my lord, but we have only just met," she cleared her throat.

"Hardly," dismissed Cressey. "We used to play here, as children. And I have often admired you since, but you grew too busy with Aerion. I see now that his attentions lay elsewhere at the moment, so I cannot pass up this chance."

As children. She wanted to giggle. She was sure Aerion would have. She had no memory of this man.

"That would be difficult, my lord," she replied. "I reside in Dorne for the most part."

"My lands are small and my brother is capable."

"You would... go to Dorne?"

"Until I have won you over, yes."

"I see."

"I certainly hope you do," he smirked.

Y/n wanted to recoil. To push this lordling out and find better company. A few times they would come together as children and now he thought he could bear this aura of certainty? She hadn't even thought of marriage at all. Dornish customs were loose, and her father had only mentioned it perhaps twice in the past year.

"Allow me to think on it, my lord?"

"Anything you desire, my lady."

She curtseyed shallowly before turning her heel and exiting the gardens. She suddenly felt ill at this prospect, and wished for nothing more than to retreat to her chambers and lock the door twice over.

She stepped down the empty hallways. The servants were much focused upon the soiree, and within the castle walls it was empty and silent. Until she heard footsteps other than her own.

The noise was more of a thump than a clack, so she could inference it were the boots of a man rather than the slippers of a woman, though this man's footsteps sounded... rather lithe.

"Cressey say something stupid again?"

Aerion.

And as much as she could hold her will up unto her father or her siblings or even Maekar Targaryen... it dropped.

"He wishes to court me," she spoke quietly, as if anything louder would shatter the moment.

"Have you been together before today?"

He'd caught up to her, walking now at her side. She didn't know what he was thinking, for she refused to glance at his face. She could only hear a lilting curiosity in his tone.

"Apparently, we played together as children."

"Is that so?"

"Apparently."

"Did you accept?"

"I told him I would think on it," she informed him. "I don't know how to reject him."

"And yet you've done a splendid job of rejecting me."

At that, her head whipped around to pierce him with a glare. "Excuse me? You were the one who decided I wasn't worth your time anymore."

His stupidly handsome face looked ridiculously pleased.

She set herself back forward and took a breath, releasing the air out of her nose. "Just... leave me be."

"No."

She huffed. "Aerion, please."

"Y/n, please."

She scoffed. "And why not?"

"Because..." she heard him swallow. "Because it appears I have missed your company."

Her fingers dropped to her skirts, gathering the fabrics between them and clenching them tightly. "You are utter unbelievable."

"I am..."

She glanced back to him again. "You are what?"

"I am..."

His eyebrows were hung low, and his mouth remained in a strange curved line. He looked comically unsettled.

"I am sorry."

She halted their walking.

In all the years she'd known Aerion Targaryen, he'd only ever apologised to her once. He'd orchestrated nasty pranks on everybody in the Red Keep when he discovered the festival celebrated by the commoners on the first day of the fourth moon, when the two of them were about eight years old. She'd ended up in one of the old fountains, which was to be demolished and rebuilt. It was a horrid thing, crumbling stone, muddy waters which mosquitoes had laid their eggs upon. The water lilies had rot, exuding terrible smells, and she swore she'd seen a floating frog carcass. She'd fallen in wearing her brand new dress, and cried so profusely Aerion was for once at a loss of words. After she'd ran off and refused to speak with him throughout dinner, he'd come to her chambers and apologised with a flower from the newly planted bushes.

"Why would you do that?" she questioned softly. "Push me away immediately upon your return. I missed you."

"I did not know if you would still care for me," he answered. "Perhaps you were married already with a child, or you simply could not care after such a long time."

"I find that hard to believe, Aerion. You do not care about things like that."

He sighed.

"My Father sent me to Lys to reform me. Why he chose that cavern of sin, I do not know. But I was, and remain adamant in convincing him that he cannot change who I am. And I fear that if I allowed myself to attach to you once more, I could not keep it up."

"Oh Aerion," she rolled her eyes. "Nothing can change you. Even me. I would hate if I did. You are not meant to be a demure little princeling. You are a dragon."

"I have my fears," he conceded.

"Shockingly," she laughed.

"It pains me to admit it but they there," he confessed begrudgingly.

She smiled anyway, and looped her arm in his.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Let us stroll. And talk."

"I have a better idea."

He pulled on her arm, beginning a hurried pace, down the hall, up the stairs, until they reached none other than his chamber door.

"Your chambers...?"

He grinned, dragonlike as always, pushing the door open and leading her inside.

"I did not learn reform in Lys, but I have learnt many other things," he stated, encouraging her to enter whilst shutting the door.

He spun her around, tugging her close and leaning down. She could hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest.

"My words are hardly kind and will not suffice for you," he whispered. "So let me make it up a different way."

He kissed her.

It was not gradual, an immediate clash of teeth and tongue that had her stumbling back and clutching onto his elbows for dear life. But it was everything she wanted, everything she dreamed of with him since she'd turned four and ten.

Of course she'd kissed men before. She was Dornish, it was only natural. She had always yearned for Aerion, but she did not deprive herself. However, the instance of kissing was rare and only one long ago had ever pleased her.

This kiss was pure bliss.

His hands slid around her waist, expertise evident in how quickly he'd loosened the ties of her dress. She helped him pull it down and grinned when she herself began to make work at his doublet. A pang emerged between her legs at the sight of his carved torso.

"Nevermind me," Aerion tutted.

He pulled down the remainder of her dress, leaving her in her smallclothes. She was not embarrassed, no, but the exhilaration of it all left her breathless.

"You are not a maiden, I presume?"

She rolled her eyes, a practice quite common in his presence. "No."

"Scandalous," he mocked monotonously. "Sit down."

She made her way to the edge of his bed, placing her hands behind her and shifting her weight upon them. Her expression dared to challenge him.

"The Lyseni have talented scientists," he explained. He'd gone over to his desk and presented her with a small wooden pot, filled with an auburn powder. "They discovered the pollen of one of one of their native flowers can heighten the sensation of physical pleasure when inhaled. Here."

She took a tentative sniff, and immediately, the pulsing between her legs blossomed largely.

"Wonderful, is it not?" he took a deep sniff of his own.

He kissed her with a sense of finality, nipping at her bottom lip mischievously, before sinking to his knees. He took the tip of her undergarment and dragged it down her legs torturously.

Aerion kissed along her inner thigh, sometimes stopping to inhale at her skin, eyes shut and fluttering when he did so, as if she were a narcotic of some sort. Her cunt clenched as he got nearer to her core, having to press her lips together to stifle her impatience and the growing sensations from the powder.

After his relentless teasing, Aerion finally granted her reprieve, letting his tongue lick straight up her cunt. She exhaled loudly, her hands latching onto his short silvery-gold waves. He grunted in response, moving fast toward languid and savouring mouthfuls, heightening the feeling by hiking her legs over his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this way before.

Thank the gods for Lys, she thought, as she leaned back.

Two of his fingers slipped within her promptly, pumping in and out in a steady rhythm. Paired with the suckling of her pearl, she could feel her release approaching faster and faster. It was almost too quick.

"Ah-"

Aerion added a third finger.

"Gods- Stop!" she nearly shrieked.

"What is it?"

She urged him to get up, and he did so dutifully. When Aerion was stood before her, she quickly rid him of the rest of his clothes and pushed him down on the bed.

His cock, long and impressive, stood at full height. It was pale as he, though rather pink at the tip. She licked her lips in delight.

"Let me ride the dragon."

At this, he perked up. Aerion's pupils had rounded wider and darker than ever. His jaw was drawn tight and she caught a tremble on his lips. She knew what he liked. He thought himself a dragon in mortal flesh, and whilst she had her own ideas upon that very notion, she knew he could not resist.

She placed her knees on either side of him, grabbing the base of his cock. Aerion groaned, watching in anticipation. With an inhale, she positioned him towards her and sunk down.

"Aerion-" she moaned. Her hips rose and fell upon his length hurriedly.

Aerion was not a man of many sounds in bed, as she could've guessed before, but the tautness of all his muscles and how hungrily he viewed her... it was gratifying enough.

She was constantly full of him. Every time she rose he would thrust up into her, working in tandem, almost mechanically—but their raw energy and the effects of the powder did not let it stray to a realm of boredom.

"That's it," he gritted out. "Ride the dragon."

She heard nothing else but his voice, and the obnoxious wet claps of their joining. He was reaching the very depths of her, and she could not help but wail in pleasure at finally having him all to herself.

He began to rub her pearl when she'd hurried her rhythm desperately, steady circular motions of his thumb. In no time, she'd produced a loud shriek, riding out her release as Aerion thrusted furiously to reach his own. His seed was warm.

She collapsed beside him, legs messily strewn across one another. Aerion kissed her forehead.

Knock knock.

"I shall get it," he told her.

Aerion took the decorative red blanket that had been mixed amongst his sheets, wrapping it around his waist to hide his nakedness so he could answer the door.

"Cressey?"

"My prince. I wished to speak with you."

"Why?"

"Well, it regards-"

"Who is that, Aerion?" she called out.

Cressey's face fell.

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[jacaerionspookiebear]

LEAAAAAAAAAAAA

omfg I love you

please I need more aerion content from you 🥹🥹🥹

the smut..😍😍

[hxtd]

Random and outdated but ur ai edits of Jace w blonde hair r ugly asf btw and he does not look better at all!!