TAKE ME OUT.

TAKE ME OUT.

+ . jacaerys velaryon x f!targaryen!reader

synopsis. once is an accident, twice is a mistake, three times is an addiction. and jacaerys is an addict. though you are too.

3 + . contents. no use of y/n or any variation. cunnilingus. p in v. missionary. period/canon-typical incest. creampie. infidelity. fluff. maybe angst if you squint. 3.3k words.

In his mind that first time will forever remain. Like a painting made of oils behind his eyelids, through the grooves and dips of his brain. When you had come to his aid after a particularly rough and hostile confrontation with your husband Aemond. Jacaerys knew you were as Helaena was – not of the serpent behavior of your brothers or mother. You were kind, gentle. Aiding him as if you were a cat licking the wounds of a kitten despite his two years held over you in age. Jacaerys can still remember the way you apologized for Aemond, the way you explained that he was not all bad and he was only upset by the sureness of “bastards taking the throne”. He can still recall how warm he felt when you quickly apologized for using such a word, overexplaining the way in which they were of Targaryen blood no matter what anyone said.

But what Jacaerys can remember most vividly is the first time he kissed someone. The moment his lips caught yours. His aunt who was once his childhood friend, a girl he rode the dragon with first, a girl who he’d allow to play with his sword. A relationship torn by opposing views and scrutinizing eyes. And a relationship he so selfishly mourned and grieved for feelings past that of family and friend – that he took initiative to – for once – be selfish.

Despite how vivid the night was, Jacaerys often finds difficulty truly seeing the painting beneath his eyelids and draping his brain. But the sounds are there. The sound of your soft moans and skin hitting skin, the sound of his name leaving your lips around air of pleasure and need. Then the touches. How your hands felt in his choppy hair, how soft your hand was in guiding his cock to your cunt warm and fitted perfectly to him. The ghost of your lips. Jacaerys can remember such details so vividly he could retell the tale in High Valyrian.

He also remembers the oath you both made. When the panic from him and tears of guilt from you subsided and you both agreed to never speak of what happened – to forget it.

For a while you both did good. Six months and nothing occurred. Until Rhaena and Lucerys’s wedding celebrations and Jacaerys found his hands woven in your hair and his cock sheathed in your throat.

Then again. An oath, a promise that nothing would happen again.

Jacaerys should’ve been strong when you came to him in search of comfort from the rain three months after that second incident; you’ve always been so terrified of the rain because with rain comes thunder. He should have been strong-willed and turned you away or at the very least offered to comfort you where anyone could see you two, where guards were around. But Jacaerys was weak again. He was weak and desperate, the effort of guiding you to the library not enough to stop what pulled the two of you like flames to dry grass.

You wound up bent over a table, dress bunched around your hips and cheek pressed into the oak.

No more oaths were made, no more promises.

You both couldn’t cheat, sin, and lie. Even if the two were sin all the same. Jacaerys indulged, by Gods was he selfish – greedy and desperate. In your embrace he did not care of damnation, he found more than enough Heaven for an eternity buried in you with those pretty eyes gazing up at him and soft hands clutching him like you might die if you let go. Jacaerys indulged like Aegon did with his wine. You were something more intoxicating and inescapable than the most alluring of sins and vices. Truth be told, Jacaerys was willing and ready to die for his sins, to pay and to spend the rest of his eternity in an inferno of suffering.

Jacaerys cannot – he could not – ever repent. For that he would need to be sorry.

Unfortunately, your remorse was there. Your guilt. From constant visits to the sept, to trembling around Aegon, to being unable to look at Jacaerys for days after any interaction of the lurid kind – Jacaerys knew you were feeling a need to repent for the sins you were committing. And eventually, unfortunately, you soon put a stop to it all. In the afterglow of orgasm with his seed spilling between your thighs and his arms around your waist.

To say he was crushed would be an understatement. Jacaerys was devastated to know you wished to end things. Moments of not just sex but love – an intimacy unfathomable to any unfortunate enough to not feel such an embrace. But Jacaerys respected your wishes, he respected the fact that you did not wish to continue in adultery, infidelity, sin and depravity with your nephew while having two children and a husband. No matter what a cunt that husband was, Jacaerys accepted it. He knew he could accept anything for you, even if it meant mourning you despite your life still vibrant and forever present in the Keep.

A year. He’s shown restraint, his relationship with you has moments of fleeting looks and lingering touches but you are both as you were. Aunt and nephew, caring and adoring one another despite what many obstacles may offer to such a relationship. Twelve months. Jacaerys has been looking for a betrothed, a bride to take before his coronation to take the Iron Throne. It isn’t a necessity, no, it never is for a man yet he still searches. He ignores the manner in which every option to even brush his interest resembles you in one way or another. Three-hundred and sixty-five days. You’ve grown close, you spent time together plenty and he spends just the same means of time with your beautiful children. A year and Jacaerys has been so obedient, a gentleman as he was raised and a man of honor and strong-will just the same.

Nothing’s set him off. Not the beauty of you in your gowns. Not your breastfeeding. Not the manner in which you touched him. Not the close calls of close proximity – not even a drunken stolen kiss from him. Jacaerys has shown resilience and strength, he’s shown himself to be a man of honor and strong-will in the face of something only the Gods would be cruel enough to dangle before him.

So why now? Why now is his heart racing, his heart thumping, his skin burning – why now does he feel the same as the night he first kissed you?

“Nephew?” Your voice is clear in the air, slicing through his clouded thoughts and mind.

Jacaerys brings himself to the present, over a year later from the moment everything changed and he blinks with a hard shift of his adam’s apple.

A small smile twitches up at the corner of your lips, you hold your pointer finger between the pages of the book in the beautiful library. Adorned in sleepwear, hair let loose and skin free of expensive jewelry and intricate fabrics, you’re a glowing painting in the candlelight. “I’m surprised to see you here.” You hum, voice quiet beneath the silence of the Keep where all sleep.

Where most sleep.

Jacaerys, having sought escape from a restless bed, nods as he steps closer towards you. “I–hope I’m not disturbing you, aunt. I couldn’t sleep. I never can when it’s too cold.” He honestly speaks with tentative and cautious steps. When you smile softly, a slightly pulled-back smile, you wave a hand over. Jacaerys melts internally and his steps become far more comfortable as he walks over to take the seat beside you on the beautiful chaise of smooth crimson velvet and golden accenting along the mahogany details. “What keeps you up?” Jacaerys asks, knowing he should simply leave as your eyes fall back down to the book you peel open.

Sighing gently, you shrug loosely and your eyes trace the words while you speak to him. “I’m unsure. I’ve been plenty restless as of late.” Then you look to him and scrunch up your nose at him. “Have you wished ill upon me for my teasing early this day? You do know it was your fault you fell.” You muse with a smile on your lips, setting aside the book and shifting closer to him.

Jacaerys’s soft laughter fills the air and he shakes his head, his eyes noticing your own taking notice of the small scrape against one of his high cheekbones. “If you had not tripped me, I wouldn’t have fallen.” The prince pointedly remarks. “I forget how serious you are of threats to take your sweets.” He grins, brown eyes gazing into your beautiful features. You roll your eyes but he can see the concern in your brows. Can you feel the warmth of his skin? The fisting of his hands in his nightcloths? Perhaps you may even see the need in his gaze?

“Well – do not toy with such matters again.” You remark, seemingly satisfied with what you see. Leaning back, your knees still touch his leg. “Does it still hurt? You should have seen the maester.” Falling into a soft murmur, your words just barely reach his ears the moment the pads of your ring finger and middle finger brush along the shallow scrape his face took against the stone wall of the corridor to the kitchen. In the wake of your touch follows fire.

Jacaerys’s heart thumps in his ears as he looks along your features, you look along his just the same. Tension settling in the air is palpable for the heir to the throne. Thick and hot like the breath of a dragon before fire should hit the flesh. It’s selfish and cruel of him to wonder if you’re feeling the same, looking at him expectantly with your fingertips just ghosting over the injury he can no longer feel. Truthfully, entirely, one could shove a spear through him right now and he wouldn’t feel it. All he can feel is you.

All there is – is you.

But he can’t have you. It would be wrong for him to indulge, to capture your mouth and find his way on top of you. Jacaerys cannot go against your wishes, against your wants. Even if you’re giving him those eyes. Half-lidded. Even if you’re breathless with parted lips. Even if you’re still gently touching his injury numb and static beneath your fingertips. Jacaerys cannot take what he wants, he cannot be selfish any longer in this situation. Especially not here, not where any one might catch you two. Not when you wished for such sinful things to never happen again. Jacaerys can’t.

“Kiss me.” You almost whine.

Now he can.

Hands calloused at the upper palms grab your face immediately, lips catching yours for a kiss so bruising he can almost feel your teeth through the flesh.

Jacaerys’s dark eyes screwing shut and darker eyebrows sewing upwards as you take his face. One hand cautious of the injury while the other grips his face like he’s your source of air. The time of tentative and slow kisses was gone long ago and even with just shy over a year apart – it still is gone when Jacaerys feels your tongue slip into the hot cavern of his mouth. A moan leaves his mouth to echo in your own, one of his hands slipping to grab at your hair at the base of your skull against the scalp.

Fisting your hair and pushing himself forward, you lie back on the chaise. Wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses fill the silent air of the library as Jacaerys’s hand not fisted in your hair begins to undo the soft satin lacing at the back of your dress. Your thighs spread and his knees press into the cushion of the chaise, dress bunching along your upper thighs to bring space for his hips between them. Jacaerys feels the fabric loosening, he feels your hands slipping down to undo the fabric of his trousers, your tongue, pants from your nostrils against his cheek, the heat of your face…

Jacaerys feels everything but guilt and remorse.

Yet still, he pulls away despite his inner need screaming and shouting at him. Your wide eyes look up at him, his fabric loose and low on his hips and your own loose and low along your shoulders and breasts. Panting raggedly, heavily, your brows twitch and hot gaze is questioning. Jacaerys nods gently as the hand not supporting his weight beside your head now comes to cradle your cheek. A thumb smooths your swollen lower lip. “Are you certain?” Jacaerys asks, his voice hoarse with lust and love.

Your gaze softens and your shoulders relax, looking up at him, your tongue flicks out and catches the skin of his thumb. Jacaerys shudders. “I’ve missed you. I could not be more sure.” And Jacaerys leans down with a shuddery exhale.

Soft pink lips ghost your jaw and soft kisses become hot and wet ones along the base of your throat. Trembling hands tugging down the fabric of your neckline and revealing breasts he’s ached and yearned for. Eager, warm hands grope and squeeze at the soft flesh and your soft moans fill the air. Pure ecstasy rolls off your tongue as he gropes at the flesh, fingers catching hardened nipples between them and rolling them. When a cheeky pinch is a bit too hard, you choke out a whine and your hips jerk upwards. Jacaerys’s mouth dances along collarbones then down towards your sternum.

But he shifts his mouth and catches one of your nipples in his hot mouth. Your body arches up into him and he basks in your responsiveness. Tweaking at your other nipple while his tongue flicks and works along the one in his mouth, your sounds keep his trousers up with the hardness of his cock tenting the fabric.

Jacaerys is a man starved and you are not his meal but the God blessing him with one.

When his head finds solace beneath your dress, the scent along of your wet cunt makes him dizzy. You’re panting raggedly already as his lips kiss at your sensitive inner thighs and fingertips ghost the flesh. The way you twitch and whine in annoyance brings a smile to his lips. But he can’t handle teasing you, doing so simply pulling him taut all the more and his mouth finds you again.

Basking in the taste that envelopes his mouth, Jacaerys holds your thighs as his tongue licks up your folds to flick against the sensitive clit throbbing and aching already. Your moans echo in the library, hands grasping the golden lining of the chaise lounge seat and the cushion beneath you. Jacaerys should care more about your volume, you should care more about your volume. But neither of you do care. Especially not the prince that feels your cunt clench around his tongue that basks in the gummy feeling of your walls while his nose moves against your clit.

“J-Jacaerys!” You cry out when he pulls away. “Wh–What–why–”

“Shh shh…” Jacaerys pants raggedly once he slips out from beneath your dress. You look up at him on the brink of tears and he shakes his head. “I want us to come together.” He whispers hoarsely, licking his mouth with a stickiness off his chin and along the bumped bridge of his big nose. Your brows sew up and you wet your lips, looking down as Jacaerys shoves down the rest of the fabric.

With his cock unsheathed, you mewl and writhe beneath him, hands ready to snap the wood and rip the cushion when he presses his thumb to his cock to slip up and down between your folds. The throbbing, weeping cockhead breeches your entrance and Jacaerys nearly comes then and there. Choking out a “Fucking Gods–” while you arch up into him with a cleaner swear of “Help me, Gods”. The feeling of your wet cunt around his hard cock makes him dizzy, slowly easing himself to his mess of dark pubes leading to a dark happy trail. Your head leans back against the armrest of the chaise.

“M-Move–” You almost immediately beg with a whine when he’s buried to your clit.

Jacaerys pants through clenched teeth, hands pressing into your thighs to keep them spread wide. “I–need a moment or I will release.” He confesses with a crooked grin on a flushed, sweaty, glistening face as dark eyes look down at you lovingly and sheepishly. You smile and laugh softly, panting raggedly with your own disheveled appearance. Jacaerys’s heart swells, his body aches feeling you clench him.

Then gently, he takes your hands and leans down. Your eyes shut and your fingers interlace with his own as his forehead presses to yours. Slowly, he begins to rock his hips for a steady and slow pace of thrusts. You moan out against his mouth, your nose pressing against his own. Steadily, he begins to quicken his pace, hands holding your own tightly. And in a blur you’re both messes of moans and wetness, the most obscene of sounds filling the library and perhaps even heard down the corridor but neither of you seem to care.

Clinging to you, embracing you as you lie back, Jacaerys grunts with each hard thrust that smacks his tense balls against your ass. You moan and cry against his throat, your hands grasping the fabric of his upper clothing against his shoulder blades as your clenching and loosening and clenching cunt satisfy his hard cock just as his tip satisfies that most sensitive point of your insides. Jacaerys is unsure how he’ll ever stop this, how he’ll ever be able to simply let you go – but that isn’t his worry now as his thrusts grow sloppy and harder.

“I–I need to release–” Jacaerys grunts, he’s felt you holding off the last ten minutes. You always liked to finish together. Nodding with desperate whines, he tries to pull back but you lock your legs around him and his eyes widen. Pulling back, looking down at you with hands bunched in your dress, Jacaerys meets your face contorted in pleasure and euphoria. “What are you doing?” He makes no effort to stop or slow down as your back arches up into him.

Nodding, you reach up and hold his face. “In me. I will take the aftermath of consequences of the moon tea but ri-right now you–I need to be full of you, Jacaerys.” You choke out in a raspy manner, your thumbs smoothing his cheekbones. Jacaerys moans out, nodding as he leans down. “I love you.” You gasp against his mouth as he holds your hips and kisses along your face.

“I love y–you–fuck!”

Jacaerys’s cum fills your wet and needy cunt only seconds before you release a wet mess all over his length with a squeal of climax. Your legs fall limp on either side of him, his cheek against your temple and your hands interlaced with one another now.

Panting raggedly, spent bodies against one another, Jacaerys waits a few moments as his length softens in you to pull out. You gasp shakily and squeeze his hands, he pulls away his hands to fix your dress. The hem down to cover you and the neckline up, then the laces as you weakly sit up. He plants kisses where he can. Your temple, your cheek, your shoulder, your breast. When you’re covered, he sheathes himself and looks down at you – using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from your dazed and ditzy expression lolled to the side.

“Are you well?” He asks softly.

You look up at him and you pant softly, gently brushing away his curls with a soft smile. For the first time, Jacaerys does not see guilt or remorse in your gaze. All he can see is love and care.

And damnation is worth every fraction of it.

“Wonderful.” You reply, leaning into his touch.

Jacaerys smiles and he leans down, kissing your cheek.

“I love you.”

And you kiss his jaw.

“I love you.”