huang renjun, lee jeno, lee donghyuck, and na jaemin are determined to have girlfriends by the end of their college years, but that’s easier said than done when they’re known as the biggest players on campus.
GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au
WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual content (smut), alcohol consumption
AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! welcome to my nct dream 00 line series that i’m super hyped for !! since i never did anything for my 1k followers milestone…. or 2k…. or 3k…. or 4k…. consider this my 5k milestone ♡ these are going to be like mini fics (around 5k??) so it’s a refreshing break from the long fics :’) the stories are loosely connected but you don’t have to read in order. send me an ask or comment to be added to the tag list! thank you for reading & i hope you enjoy!!
i do think that the first time u fuck virgin!zanka he might or might not cry. either from the emotional release of it all or from the insane pleasure or a combo of both bc for a person who spends his whole life basically holding back or like labeling himself as normal, to feel like this is the kind of thing he's not used to, but its just too fucking good and he can't help himself (i do also think that he cums almost embarrassingly fast the first few times. then he builds up a tolerance and that's when he becomes a real menace).
Gwayne Hightower corrupting his sweet Targaryen niece!
His young niece is sent to Oldtown with her younger brother Daeron, much to Gwayne’s delight.
Though she’s a Targaryen, she looks so much like her mother and Gwayne is simply infatuated with her. His niece was Helaena’s twin, the girl much more lucid and rooted in the earth than her sister.
Gwayne who takes her under his wing, allowing the pair to form a strong bond as she learns more about Oldtown and the history of the Hightower’s.
Gwayne watches as his sweet niece seems to grow even more beautiful as she’s older. He notices the attention she draws and the leering gazes men level at her. It makes something in his chest burn.
His niece was expected to return to Kings Landing when she became of age, and yet the time has passed and her mother and father have not sent for her yet. Gwayne comforts his sweet niece though he’s secretly happy and enjoying her presence remaining longer.
Gwayne finds it more and more difficult to resist his niece as she clings to him more in her sadness, his body growing warm at the idea of taking her for himself. He reasons with himself: if her mother married her other daughter to her full-blooded brother then surely an uncle is a less egregious pairing. Gwayne’s been influenced too much by the Targaryen views at this point.
Gwayne seizes the opportunity to corrupt his niece once and for all when she cries desperately in her arms. She’s sobbing about how no man will ever want her as a wife if she never returns to the capital, how her family do not love her, how her mother sent away.
He’s taking her teary face in his hands softly, brushing her hair back from her face as he looks into her wide eyes. The heavy kiss he places on her lips has her momentarily shocked before she tentatively responds. Gwayne’s slowly guiding her lips in the way he likes, revelling in the feeling as her fingers begin threading through his hair.
Gwayne doesn’t fuck her straight away, no, he waits and waits until his niece is so dependant on him, hanging off his every word. She’s visiting the sept with him each day, dining with him and letting him kiss her as much as he wants.
But once he does, there is no one in the world that he would let take her away from him. He would show Otto the bloodied sheets from their coupling and watch his face fall in horror, disgusted at the sullying of a proper Targaryen princess. Otto didn’t think he had it in him, not to do something so vile.
Gwayne gets his way and soon his pretty little niece is standing in front of him in the Sept at Oldtown, exchanging vows with him.
Alicent is beside herself. Her sweet daughter corrupted and defiled by her own uncle, someone she trusted her with.
Gwayne and his new wife are the picture of marital bliss, always giggling and mumbling to each other. The maids in the keep at Oldtown are always giggling as they walk past their chambers; the gasps and groans escaping enough to make a grown man blush.
Gwayne fucks his wife good. I said it. He’s a munch too and 100% makes his wife cum at least once before getting into the main action. He’s got his niece wrapped around his finger and anytime he wants her, he has her.
It’s no surprise when the Red Keep receives a raven announcing the pregnancy of the Targaryen princess, a babe expected no more than 9 months after their wedding (they got down to business right away!).
(Aegon’s giggling at the rage colouring his mothers expression. He loves seeing her so unsettled and makes a note to tease her AS MUCH as possible.)
summary | A certain knight earns the affection of a young princess.
pairing | gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader
tags | young gwayne, young reader, first crush <3 <3, depictions of violence, set in s1 ep1
wordcount | 1.8k
note | in a gwayne hightower mood bc i think he's just so perfect and handsome and–
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)
No other heart would beat faster than a young girl’s from the first strike of the arrow of infatuation. All it took was a moment, a fleeting glance, a quirk of the lips, and suddenly, her hands would start to feel clammy, her skin growing hot with its hairs raised, and her cheeks rightfully flushed like a blooming rose. After that, her mind would carry no other thought but those of her sweet gentleman, hoping for another moment in his presence, and perhaps something more.
It happened to you at four and ten. On a day filled with excitement and glee for the coming of your youngest sibling, the Keep was rightfully buzzed. King Viserys had called for a tourney to be held and with that announcement came a flurry of young knights and lordlings to the capital. You didn’t fawn over each one you passed in the halls, nor did you care for much of them at all. You were a princess. If anything, it was more sensible for them to crane their heads to look at you, not the other way around.
Not one for pompous fests and stiff-necked boys on horses, you were sure to be properly bored at the tourney. One after the other, they were all fairly skilled and worryingly eager for violence— Massey, Baratheon, Lannister. You weren’t squirming in your seats in eagerness for any of them, not like Rhaenyra and Alicent were to your right, both of whose curious whispers about this mysterious Ser Cole were poorly hidden under bejeweled hands. You were starting to consider crouching low enough to sneak out of the royal box and back to your mother’s chambers instead, where your attention would be better directed, that was until the next challenger was called upon. Spectators’ intrigue grew as a knight embellished in green rode through the lists, the Master of Revels announcing him as the Lord Hand’s eldest.
Gwayne Hightower.
A young man of seven and ten recently bestowed with his knighthood. It was not his name that finally piqued your stubborn curiosity, nor the tasteful green velvet adorning his armor, but the fiery tresses that spilled once his helmet was removed… and those eyes. Blue like the sky on a clear spring day, careful in scanning his audience before him. It had laid on you for scarcely a second, but it was enough to render your heart pumping, the tips of your ears heating up as he rode closer. Your hands clenched your skirts as you craned your neck to get a better glance at Ser Gwayne. He asked for Lady Tarly’s favor, his lance receiving a circlet of peonies that were laid right under yours of leaves of pine and a spray of baby’s breath. Your stomach dipped in disappointment, and girlish lips frowned. Though, the sound of his voice made up for it, smooth as silk and deep with a sure confidence as he pronounced his promise of winning the tourney with her favor.
Ser Gwayne rode exceptionally well, knocking off the young Dondarrion lad in two passes. He’d sent House Thorne’s heir to the dirt in the next, then little lord Peake with almost no effort. With every victory, you applauded with zeal at the edge of your seat, and with every triumph, Gwayne’s eyes returned to the royal box. The dutiful son searched for the look of approval in his father Otto, who sat right behind you, but your foolish heart would like to believe he’d taken glimpses of you in doing so. Your dashing knight would be the victor by the day’s end, you were sure of it.
That was until Daemon chose him to challenge.
Your uncle played dirty. Everyone knew that. Rhaenyra did, evident in the way she subtly smirked in interest, and so did Lord Hightower, who started to shift uneasily in his seat. Time seemed to slow when both men stood at either end of the tilt, shiny armor glinting in the afternoon sun. For a moment, Gwayne seemed to have fair chances of success when he almost knocked the rogue prince off his horse at the first pass, but his loss would soon come when Daemon swept at the horse’s feet with his lance. A dirty play, though unsurprising coming from your uncle. You gasped as your auburn knight was sent straight down, smashing head-first onto the ground. For a moment, you worried he had been injured too seriously when he lay unmoving for a moment, your heart thunderously beating in your ears as an anxious gnawing in your chest sent cold sweat down your spine. He was dragged off by squires, before coming back to his senses and limping off with a bowed head. Your amethyst hues stayed glued to the sight of his hobbling form as Ser Gwayne exited the arena, and with his departure went your heart.
When the king was called to a matter regarding your mother, you’d taken the opportunity to sneak off behind him. As your father made haste to the royal chambers, you’d taken a different route. You wanted to find him, console him for his loss but praise him for the stunning skill he had displayed. With every step you took, you thought about what you wanted to say, how you would say it, and hopefully, what he would say back.
You are a fine knight, Ser Gwayne.
Do not think of it as a loss, Ser Gwayne, you are the victor in my eyes.
Are you promised to anyone, Ser Gwayne? I sure hope not, for I think we are the most suitable match.
Ser Gwayne, do you think me beautiful?
Your mind ran in a frenzy while tried to look for those fiery locks as you made your way to the tents, though all you had gotten were looks of confusion from the young men who were unexpecting of a princess’s arrival. With an awkward smile and hasty steps, you scurried about, eyes earnestly searching for where you may find him. When your hope started to dwindle and you started to consider returning to the box with a dismayed heart, the sight of slender limbs and dirtied red hair greeted you. He was with a squire, grumbling in barely concealed anger as he limped back to the Keep to recover. You turned frozen in your tracks, the warmth in your skin returning and your palms dampening as he started to approach where you stood. His eyes met yours as you stood like a fool, recognition flickering in his blazing blues as he straightened his posture in respect to your station. The blooming of maturity at his young age made him tower over you, leaving you feeling smaller under his gaze.
“Princess,” he bowed, your stomach fluttering with his address.
“S-ser Gwayne.” Your mouth closed and open as you thought of what else to say, the words you rehearsed in your mind wiped clean when finally stood face to face with the object of your girlish fancy. "Are you alright, good ser? You took quite a fall." Your heart clenched at the sight of him— nose bloodied, hair all mussed, and his cheek all scratched.
"I thank you for your concern, but I am alright. Such is the nature of jousting, I'm afraid," he dismissed, waving it off nonchalantly. “Should you not be at the box, princess? The tourney is far from over,” Gwayne noted.
“I…I have seen all I needed to see,” you responded, nervously biting your lip as you willed yourself to gather the courage to speak and not make a stuttering fool out of yourself. You swore the gods were playing a jest on you and twisting your tongue on purpose with the way speaking started to seem an impossible feat, managing only a few decent words with coherence.
“Ah, not a fan of it then?” he breathed out a chuckle. You could see all the tiny freckles that littered his porcelain skin with this proximity, though stained with dirt, as well as the light litter of stubble on his chin, and you thought him utterly handsome. His nose was perfectly sculpted, lips nicely rosy and you wondered if they had ever known a touch of a girl’s; you hoped they didn’t, you prayed you would be the first.
“I wasn’t, but watching you might have changed my mind,” you praised, though he seemed unbelieving of your words. His hand rubbed at his nape as his eyes flickered to his dirtied boots.
“I lost,” he muttered.
Emboldened, you took a small step forward. “My uncle is no honorable opponent, losing to him barely means anything towards your skill. The fact you did not yield to his tricks says something more of your dignity as a knight,” you said, hope gleaming in your young heart as his face visibly lit up at your words.
“You were cheering for me when I won against Thorne,” Gwayne pointed out, lips lifting into a soft, shy smile. You were left stunned in surprise, having not expected him to notice.
Was he watching you as well?
“I-I was… as well as when you defeated all other opponents before Daemon. You were excellent, ser.” Your cheeks were sure to be a shade of beet red. The late spring air had suddenly turned much hotter in his vicinity, and your knee was starting to tremble in the effort of trying to remain collected. You were ill-prepared to face him, despite the inexplicable pull that made you leave your seat.
“Perhaps I might have made a mistake in not asking for the princess’ favor. If I had, I might have had a better chance of winning,” he mused. You watched him watch you, his eyes running over your features as you fidgeted in your spot. An opportunity was presenting itself to you, one you might never come by if you missed it now. You swallowed thickly, calming your ever-beating heart.
“I would still give it to you… if you asked."
“You would?” he asked, eyes flickering to your empty hands. Confusion painted over his features at the absent sight of your favor, and you thought him adorable with the way his brows furrowed.
“Mhm, should you want it," you nodded, lips lifted in a crooked smile.
“It would be an honor, prince—” Gwayne’s words were cut short as you took one last step closer and lifted to the balls of your feet to plant an innocent kiss on his cheek. Your lips tingled at the touch, though slightly dusted with the grime from his fall. An enormous smile threatened to break on your features, but your fingertips covered your lips shyly, giggles spilling through. Your knight was left stunned, his jaw slightly agape at your sudden act. The bubble of your moment was burst by the deep voice of Ser Westerling calling for you, bidding you to return upon your father’s behest. You lifted your skirts to return to the Keep, leaving a still dumbfounded knight in his spot.
“See you at the feast, Ser Gwayne!” you called back, excited laughter echoing through the hall as you ran back. What would greet you in your mother’s chambers would soon wipe away any semblance of happiness this small moment had gifted you, but the sight of Gwayne as you looked back, smiling with his fingertips tracing where your lips had been on his cheek, would be a memory you would treasure from that day.
SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of the marriage between your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen and your father Daemon Targaryen. Always the most rebellious and difficult of all, temperamental, impulsive. However, weak before the temptation to possess your older brother, the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a knight par excellence, the opposite of you. But no one in Dragonstone imagined that you shared much more than dragon's blood.
WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister). Jacaerys aggressive and dominant. Smut. Based on the second season of House Of the Dragon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE. This was a suggestion left anonymously in the messages, so I invite you to leave yours. Thanks for reading.
The empty room is so quiet that you could feel your thoughts could be heard over the place. The full moon illuminated the dark sky, standing out against the stars that night where everyone are resting in their chambers, but you were unable to lie in your bed, much less fall asleep without having nightmares. The Stone Table is where everyone met daily to discuss strategies for the war that was being unleashed in Westeros, but now that empty place feels strange, so much silence and loneliness. The extinguished embers did not illuminate the tabletop, you touched the stone expecting to burn, however, it was totally cold.
"Who's there?" A familiar voice entered the place. You turned immediately finding prince Jacaerys, your older brother and heir to your mother's throne. "Sister? It's very late."
"I know and you should be resting." You replied walking towards him.
"Yeah. But it's a bit complex lately." He took the liberty of joking, in response you smiled without much encouragement. "May I know what are doing here?"
"Not much. Seems you're not the only one who doesn't get any rest." Lifted your shoulders in a casually mood. "Any news on your rounds?"
Jace shook his head in disappointment, pacing around the table resting his hands on the handle of the sword without taking eyes off you, analyzing your presence carefully, as if silently judging you. You rested your hands on the stone of the table relaxing your body on your arms, but your head couldn't stop scheming hundreds of thoughts and bloody imaginary scenarios regarding the war.
"Cole's army is getting bigger and we don't have a damn clue about anything." Said with a tense jaw. "And about my father..." you sighed deeply without looking your brother in the face "no words from him for days."
"That's not your fault." The prince tried to make you feel better with repeated kind words, but your guilt was growing and the anguish of the approaching war wouldn't leave you alone. "Daemon is not the priority for the moment."
"That idiot should be here, on the island, with his queen and childrens." Visenya whispered angrily. Then you looked up resolute in your decision. "I'll go see him tomorrow."
That didn't sit well for your older brother.
"Don't talk nonsense, Visenya." Jacaerys scoffed. "Can't go to Harrenhal alone, it's too dangerous and we don't know if the way is clear for us.”
"You think I'll arrive by land alongside Daemon's imaginary army?" You sneered in the same condescending voice, a brazen gesture that made Jacaerys' blood boil. "I will ride Vermithor's back at dawn and arrive before the sun peaks. I will return the same day with news before the queen."
"That's a lousy idea!" Your brother exclaimed angrily. Grabbing your arm with brute force, forcing to look him. "How can you even just think of traveling alone to lands we don't know if they are enemies or allies?"
"We need to move fast before they come for us, brother." You squirmed under his grip feeling his fingers bury into your pale skin. "Do you intend to wait for my father to return?" You managed to break free from his grip with difficulty, Jacaerys ran a hand through his wavy hair desperate not to talk sense into his sister. "Because you may take a seat, I will not be accompanying you."
"Damn it, Visenya. Please understand the magnitude of your stupidity." He begged, chasing from side to side. Your brother knew how impulsive you are, and how hard it’s to get an idea out of your head, no matter if it was good or bad and in this case it was a rather dangerous one. "What happens if you cross paths with Vhagar in the skies?" The prince raised his voice to you demanding and imperative trying to intimidate, anyone passing nearby could overhear the discussion. Turned your back to him, you didn't want to look in the face out of embarrassment because deep down you knew his words were true. "You have any business there!"
"I have no business here either!" Exclaimed with same intensity. You were temperamental by nature and now are blowing off steam. "I'm tired of staying cooped up on the island, waiting for others to figure things out! I'm a dragon rider constrained by these walls."
Your brother understood that feeling better than anyone, he grabbed you by both cheeks, covering your face with his firm hands.
"I know how you feel, Visenya. Believe me, but walking out at the first impulse is not the solution, okay?" You put your hands over his, looking at him intently. Really want to nod for answer him, but were mesmerized in his nearness and his breath hitting your face. "Stay here, with us." He watched carefully without letting go, losing himself in the sense of his pleas to look very closely, you were so beautiful in any light no matter how dim, a Targaryen through and through with bright, intense violet eyes of long white hair like your parents. Jacaerys couldn't help but stare at you, the half-open lips tempting to taste you, trying not to lose what little composure he had left. "With me."
Visenya possessed the ethereal beauty of her mother and the complex character of her father, Daemon Targaryen. Under your little ethics and impulsiveness did not think if it was a coherent idea and you threw yourself to kiss the thick lips of your brother who reciprocated instantly, none of them reasoned, they only moved to the rhythm of the kiss where their moist lips brushed anxiously. Your brother's hand on your waist took you by surprise, more so when he pressed you against his body bumping you against his chest and cornering you against the table.
"Go to sleep, sister." Jace scolded making an attempt to stop kissing you, but you kept reaching for him. "This isn't a good place."
With a little smile you ignored knowing the only way to stop the situation was for you to go to your quarters and you didn't feel like leaving. You grabbed Jace’s hair tangling your fingers in the chestnut curls, Jacaerys strength intimidated, but it wasn't enough for hold you.
"Don't go to Harrenhal." He pleaded leaving wet kisses on your neck, tracing a wet path over your skin taking the opportunity to inhaling your sweet scent. "Do it and I promise warm your bed every night."
Felt a shiver run down your back at his offering, Jacaerys kept leaving kisses until he reached your collarbones uncovered by the neckline of your dress. His lips made your heart beat faster, grabbed him by the face stopping him.
"Would you do that for me?" Asked with dangerous innocence, watching his glossy swollen lips.
"Really doubt it?" he answered against your ear, then brushed his nose against yours slowly, you left a short kiss on his lips almost by instinct, so tender and unexpected that you heard a laugh come out of the prince.
"Maybe." You whispered touching his chest, playing with the textures of the fabrics, his agitated breathing gave him away, having you so fucking close is a personal challenge. It was a lie, you weren't going to think about it, you just wanted to give him what he needed to hear to stay with you.
Jacaerys' big hands began to take hold of your body squeezing you tightly making you gasp, then you lifted your chin giving him access to the neck, kisses there unsettled you in a special way and only your brother knew it, listening closely to his breathing and feeling the warmth of his breath was much better. Everything about him you liked, and you were missing him all nights. The pressure and uncertainty of the war had taken your head elsewhere, you had abandoned each other for valid reasons, but at that second just wanted to give yourself to Jacaerys one more time.
You stood on your tiptoes to gain a little more height reaching for his ear, your brother tensed at the delicate touch of your hot tongue against his lobe, licked delicately knowing that it turned him on, he confessed it to you one night and you never forgot it. A deep moan of satisfaction came from his throat, then carefully, you lowered one of your hands straight down to his pants, positioning yourself over his hard member that was pressing against the fabric.
"This is not the best moment." Begged the prince resting his forehead on your shoulder. "We are in a sacred place, you know?"
You cared little for his insistence or decency when only wanted to shout his name, though you knew Jacaerys was asking you to stop for the sake of not failing in duty, not because the desire wasn't there. No one understood the reason why Rhaenyra did not cancel the stupid engagement between lady Baela and the right Jacaerys, no one could deny that they could become blameless kings for the history of Westeros, but there would never be the tension and burning desire throbbing as when the fire was unleashed between you. That first time with a taste of sin, you begging him not to stop, that it was going to become a one-time secret that his parents would never find out, a secret they couldn't help but repeat between your sheets and his, in the hallways and the library.
Desperate for more your brother lifted the skirt of your dress with your help by grabbing your leg and pulling it up to his waist. The mere contact made you moan from the pleasure, clamped your mouth shut to keep from making noise, you were too sensitive and needy and Jacaerys liked to have you under his control. You were always sarcastic, upset and nasty, just like your dragon, but Jacaerys Velaryon knew how to control you.
"What are you going to do if someone finds us?" You asked with bated breath. Deep down it was important to keep the secret guarded to keep it. Jacaerys' fingers stroking between your legs making moan, clinging to the heir's neck and leaning against the table. "What are they going to say when they find out the crown prince fucking his sister."
His fingers slowly moved up and down, playing with your slimy wetness in his fingers. The mischievous grin on the chestnut's face only reflected the satisfaction of having managed to have you like this, so submissive.
"Does it scare you?" he whispered against your moaning lips. With his other hand he gripped the back of your neck tightly, so you wouldn't move. "They're going to find out you're my spoiled sister." Two of his long fingers began to search for the perfect place to insert themselves into you. You stirred under his grip settling in for him, your desperate breathing needing him to finish his work, but he seemed very calm provoking you with his words. "Do you know what they'll call you?" he bit your lip, pulling it towards him. "The heir's whore." His fingers slipped inside you so easily, sliding into your wet insides gushing moans from your chest as you felt him move in and out of you. Jacaerys took your leg his free hand clutching his fingers to your thigh preventing you from closing before him.
At the first loud moan you covered your mouth immediately knowing you were attracting attention, the sensation between your legs was stronger. You squeezed your brother's shoulder getting used to the movement of his fingers inside you.
"Don't yell." He ordered uncompromisingly. He had to kiss you to shut you up, which served you a few short minutes. You were losing your mind, your legs wanted to close but Jace put his foot down to stop that from happening.
"Jacaerys." His name on your lips excited him more than anything else, for it was the tone of desperation that mirrored your desire. To know that he controlled you and you were under his dominion with how arrogant you were, that no knight owned you, that everyone desired you for being Rhaenyra's spoiled daughter, but you were his, no matter an arranged marriage or duty was enough. "Mmh." You ran your hand over your face, desperate to keep silent fighting against your body that was beginning to tremble as his fingers went faster.
But for an ego like Prince Jacaerys Velaryon's it wasn't enough. Listening to you enjoy yourself on the Stone Table where every day they met to discuss war strategies was the most satisfying image to his eyes and he was not going to be able to forget it. The way you moved, dragon-like, the sweetest and most desperate noises came from you, none of the whores he had been with compared to the delicacy of a pureblood Targaryen. A unique and unrepeatable privilege.
When your breathing became erratic and the murmurs incomprehensible swearing you were going to reach that peak, Jacaerys came to a screeching halt chastising you. You opened your eyes in disappointment and fury, your heart leaping out of your chest and your legs damp and trembling.
"Be a good sister," he stroked your cheek with the gentleness you deserve to be treated with. You were trying to listen to him but you were so upset you just wanted to insult him for doing that to you. "Turn around."
Your hair stood up at his tone of voice demanding and conciliatory at the same time. As obedient as ever, just for him, you turned your back to him as the prince busied himself with pulling down his pants that were pressing against the erection he was trying to contain. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, you could still feel his long fingers inside you and the wait, however minimal, was becoming eternal and torturous. You looked sideways at the entrances of the place without finding anyone, but the truth is that you didn't care if at that moment the queen arrived and found them like that, the euphoria and adrenaline was taking over your body and your reason, the overflowing desire had taken your actions. You felt Jace's hands sneaking up your skirt, careful where to touch, looking for just the right position to enter. He stood behind you, your dress pulled up over your back, the mere touch made you moan. You were so wet it was slipping from your entrance.
"Don't say anything." He told you and you nodded, you were capable of begging if necessary, though deep down you knew he enjoyed it making you obey. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
You closed your eyes as you felt Jacaerys slowly push behind you. You took a breath and tried to relax, you both moaned slowly, the prince tensed his jaw and clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, he stayed still for a few seconds searching for your hips digging his fingers into your skin trapping you in that position, moving you back and forth to better thrust. The rubbing of his member on your walls felt warm and wet, an invasion of your body, you were so used to his size that the sensation became familiar, literally. Some of the pieces of stone you unintentionally threw away, that was going to be a problem for later, because now the noise of their bodies colliding was beginning to consume you. The control he had over you didn't bother you, he gripped you tightly taking over everything. Her hips moved with yours instinctively in a delicious back and forth.
"Like this." You gasped with closed eyes and a satisfied expression. You reached for his hand under your dress and clung to him as tightly as Jace clung to you.
His length pumped in and out of you at a rapid pace, but this time, Jacaerys made sure each thrust was deep by ramming his pelvis into your buttocks.
"What a pleasure to meet again, don't you think?" his question was punctuated by your same panting without stopping moving. You weren't able to answer, your high-pitched moans were getting louder and louder, putting both of you at risk. On the other hand, he was breathing heavily. You had to cover your mouth with your hand, biting your palm to stifle your own moans of pleasure at having him inside you.
You started to stir but you were trapped in his hands, he knew you well enough to know what to do, you turned to look at him finding the heir ramming you with force and speed, his hair fell in curls that moved to the rhythm of his rhythm, when their gazes met for a second he stared at you, your face sweating, your eyes bright with a frown of supplication and red cheeks were enough to have no mercy. Your entrance was tightening at the same time you couldn't breathe, that feeling of a wave invading your insides begging for more desperate to reach orgasm. Jacaerys took your with one hand your waist and with the other your hip, encasing his fingers preventing you from escaping, you were in this together and you had to finish it.
You moved your arm and disarranged the pieces on the board. Now you could hear your brother moaning, cursing you for being his undoing and the greatest of his sins, making you his own feeling the power to mark you and deflower you breaking any tradition that governs the Targaryen nobility. It felt so good that you could confess your love to him just so he wouldn't stop. Luckily for both of you, he didn't stop, the rapid movements and the pressure forming in your lower stomach was getting out of control, the noise intensifying from the collision of your bodies and your knees seemed to lose any kind of strength to hold you up, luckily the table was there to support your body, plus your brother who wasn't going to let you fall. Until you couldn't manage to resist anymore, your orgasm came first like a shiver throughout your body, you closed your eyes tightly and watching you exclaim his name in screams of pleasure ended the infinite torture of the heir that took a few seconds to wait.
"Shit." Your voice hopefully came out of your dry mouth. You had your chest against the weight crushing your breasts, one of your hands intertwined with your brother's who was rebounding behind you.
You both took a second to take a breath and assimilate what you had just done, you had promised not to fall into carnal sin again and that's why the last time was several months ago. You leaned on the table with both hands coming back into yourself with your chest heaving, your brother's hands were still in the same place but he was no longer squeezing you with the same possessive intensity. Your hair was falling on both sides, tousled from the movement and your legs were begging you for a rest.
Jacaerys caught his breath, but his heart had not calmed down at all. His body was still experiencing those chills and that unique tension, he took a step backwards out of your body to get dressed. You immediately felt the fluid trickle down the inside of your thighs, dripping slowly down your hot skin.
"Are you okay?" Jace asked pulling up his pants, his movements a little uncontrolled as the adrenaline was still pumping. You nodded fixing your wrinkled dress. It wasn't the first time it had happened, you both knew what it was, that meant you would have to have tea the next morning.
"Looks like I'll be staying."
Your older brother smiled, fixed his hair pulling it back and moving closer to kiss you again, this time slower and softer, trapping your lips with his so slowly that you relaxed. You took his face kissing him again, his scent, his warmth, his bearing that forced you to lift your chin to reach your mouth, the softness of his lips, it was the most comforting sensation you knew.
"Go rest." He whispered without opening his eyes. Tidying your hair behind your ear.
"Okay." You replied in the same tone, so obedient and submissive before him, kissing for the last time his mouth following your movement. "Good night"
Leaving him was complicated, but you were satisfied with the encounter. As you walked you felt the burning between your legs, a reminder that was to last a couple of days that he had made you his once more, that was the greatest secret they kept hidden, they had forgotten for a moment the war between families, the political problems, duty and order.
Jacaerys Velaryon watched you go, silently picking up the sword he had dropped to the ground. That simple symbol that he was capable of abandoning his duty as prince for you, he staked his honor and his word for taking you. He stayed a while longer tidying up the mess they had created, arranging the pieces of stone in the place that corresponded according to the figure, picking up from the floor some that fell without realizing it. It was he who always assumed the role of responsibility for cleaning up the mess and pretending nothing had happened. How was he going to show up tomorrow at this very spot knowing he had relations with Visenya, the spoiled and arrogant princess, right there?
He only hoped Daemon Targaryen would never discover that his daughter was the heir's favorite if he wished to one day ascend the throne.
dead reader who haunts the life of a man that loved them so dearly to the point he either tries to be a better person for you or goes insane trying to bring you back.
i don’t know if your request are open but i just wanna ask, can you do a headcanon of tom x model!reader. like the readers on vogue or she models for lingerie
ᡣ𐭩 TOM WITH A MODEL GIRLFRIEND
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omg i love this requesttt 😭 i hope you like it! and sorry for disappearing but school is slowly killing me 😻💕
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oh boy he's OBSESSED with you
always buying your magazines
would hang up posters of you on his wall
loves to attend your catwalks and is the loudest in the crowd for you
he pretty much doesn't pay attention to the other models, he's just waiting for you
he's literally Dylan Sprouse (iykyk, a whole ass green forest)
istg he would look at you like this
he's would uhm...please himself with pictures of you...
LOVES to take photos of you
and also likes to exchange photos 😀iykwim (freaky ahh)
let's just say he's very pleased with your body type since you're a model and he's really into curves and stuff like that (idk how to word it but if you've seen some of his interviews you probably understand)
makes sure everyone knows you're his
you have a lot of public appeal so he's both jealous and worried people would go too far
makes sure you don't turn your job into something toxic
LOVES when you model for lingerie, but only when he gets the photos lmfao
he's kind of jealous ofc
likes to surprise and visit you during fittings and photoshoots
obviously you also attend a bunch of his concerts, and he's more than happy to see you in the crowd
always locking eyes and getting nervous/shy to the point he has to look away and focus on his guitar 🤭
Bill obviously likes to tease him with: "excuse my brother, he's very busy looking in that particular direction!"
loves when you run backstage into his arms after (especially because you don't care if he's as sweaty as a dog)
I'd say his pda level is a 6-7/10, but if he's a little jealous (doesn't matter the reason) he's a solid 8-9/10
In his eyes you're the goddess of beauty (which you are pookie! 🤭💞)
Since he's so obsessed with you, he probably makes sure to please you most in bed
he's not really into dirty talking, but he definitely gives you some words of appreciation like "you're so fucking pretty", "you're perfect", "i'm so lucky", "this is all for me, right?"
Because of tour and different schedules, sometimes you're apart for a long time. But he never misses a chance to call and Skype you whenever he can!
he's so proud that you're his girl
Flirts with you 24/7
He would remind you everyday not to listen to the obsessed fans who give you hate for being his girlfriend
He would do the thumb thingy when holding hands or cuddling
He would flip off the paparazzi if he catches them say something mean to/about you
sometimes he would disapprove of your dresses/clothes if they're too revealing
♥︎-> he needs to be touching you at ALL times. whether it’s his hand on your thigh, his arm wrapped around you, or even simply his finger slightly touching yours.
♥︎-> he looovvves texting and calling you! after ending a call he’d text you “i miss you already >:( ”, or when he can’t necessarily talk at the moment he makes it up to you later by spam call/texting you.
♥︎-> if you two haven’t seen each other in a while, he literally tackles you; he runs up to you and immediately hugs you and tells how much he missed you, showering you in a billion kisses.
♥︎-> while in public, he makes sure you never leave his sight; he holds your hand like his life depends on it, he makes up any kind of excuse not to let it go.
♥︎-> during interviews when you are mentioned and brought up, he can’t help but perk up and laugh. especially if they put pictures of you and him on the screen, he just smiles and tries to hide the obvious blush on his cheeks.
<-♡︎ you thought he couldn’t keep his hands off you in public? during sex it’s 100 times worse; his hands are all over you, touching every single inch of your flesh. there’s not a moment where he’s not either playing with your tits or toying your clit.
<-♡︎ when he’s away, he’ll usually send you texts along the lines of; “i need you so badly babe.” “i’ll get you on the next flight out tonight, i’d do anything to fuck you right now.”
<-♡︎ eye contact. eye contact. eye contact. he quite literally stares into your soul as he slides in and out of your pussy, he likes watching the way your face distorts into expressions of pleasure.
<-♡︎ you two have the sloppiest makeout sessions ever, especially after you pick him up from the airport. i can already imagine the two of you in the back seat of the limousine, just eating each others face off as the driver drives you both back to bills house.
<-♡︎ his clinginess also tends to turn into possessiveness, he hates seeing other guys make passes at you or try to be ‘slick’ with you. if he gets really pissed off, he does petty things like makeout with you in front of them (not that your complaining).
