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Ormund Hightower x Fem!Prisoner!reader (House/family unspecified)
Summary: Ormund summons his prisoner while he bathes; you.
Warnings: Stockholm syndrome (?), power imbalance, age gap, unhealthy dynamics, needy reader, size difference, bath sex, fingering, condescending talk, groping, PiV, breeding, praise, aftercare if you squint
2.9K
It was an early morning, and while the people of Oldtown were just barely waking up, their Lord had already been up for a long time. First sending ravens, then training, then making sure his soldiers were working hard as he ordered them to.
By the time all was in order, the sun was creeping over the horizon, and Ormund found himself back at his chambers, removing his armour. Here, all was in order as well. His maids had cleaned and made his bed while he was working, and different servants had prepared his spread and, most importantly, his bath. He saw the steam curling up from the hot water, saw his most trusted maid make the water scented just the way he liked it.
He had shed his armor and weapons, moving towards the table to break off a piece of still warm bread. “I am sure that is enough,” he spoke evenly, the maid pausing immediately, the dried rose petals still in her hand. “We wouldn’t wish to overdo it, would we?”
By ‘we’ he meant her. A clear warning to not mess up the perfect scent of the water and potentially ruin his morning bath.
He stripped out of his final layers, not caring a few servants were still lingering around to finish up the final cleaning, and stepped into his bath. The water was hot, probably hotter than most people would be comfortable with, but it soothed his strained muscles immediately.
He closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe in the scent and relax his mind. He heard the door open, close, open again and close once more. He did not open his eyes. He could hear the sound of one of his knights armour, the man standing silently near the door.
“Bring the girl,” he said, only opening his eyes when he heard a lack of movement. His eyes locked onto the knight, the man clearly hesitating a second. “The girl,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly in warning, “bring her to me. Now.”
The knight turned slowly, then left his chamber immediately. Ormund could only sigh. He watched the last servant girl leave his chambers, and as he waited for his prisoner to be brought out, he ate a few morsels from the spread that had been so meticulously prepared for him.
Fruits, meats, soft bread and herbal tea. After a few minutes, his fingers started tapping impatiently against the edge of his tub. And finally, he heard the heavy wooden door open again. His knight re-entered the chamber, holding you by your bound wrists. He wasn’t that gentle with you, for you were a prisoner of the Hightowers. Yet still, the fabric that bound your wrists was soft. Tight enough to stay in place, an iron ring attached to put a chain on you if needed. But the fabric on its own was not enough to hurt. Ormund had made sure it wouldn’t.
“Leave us,” he ordered the knight, and this time spoke hard enough to make sure the man did not hesitate to leave. He shut the heavy door behind him, and Ormund was certain he assumed his post in front of the door.
He watched you for a moment. And you stared right back.
It was hard to call you a prisoner, truly. Around three weeks in, and Ormund had started being quite fond of you. He liked how spoiled you were, how you hadn’t truly realised the danger you had been in. You had shown your teeth, and he liked that. He liked it very much.
Even now, even though your wrists were bound, you nearly looked like a lady. Freshly bathed, since he wouldn’t have you smelling like a prisoner, and dressed in a soft, green-tinted gown, since he also wouldn’t have you looking like one.
Foolish? Perhaps. But you had clawed your way right under his skin.
“I had the most productive morning,” he said, breaking the silence between you two. “Letters have been sent, my men have been trained. And now… a most perfect bath.”
He hadn’t bothered to cover himself at all. There was no need to, you had seen every inch of him before. And he had seen every inch of you.
“Your father, too, has sent another letter. He seems to be nearly ready to pay the ransom to return you.”
You moved, though slowly. You walked towards him, his eyes following your every move, and he stared as you held out your bound wrists to him in a silent plea.
Untie me.
Even as a prisoner for nearly a year, you were bold as ever. Even if you were not a prisoner, the way you approached him, Lord Hightower, was with the confidence of a woman who had never been told no before. A woman whose father was not indebted severely by her captor.
Yet still, he untied you.
His hands were surprisingly gentle, undoing the knots, until the ropes fell away, forgotten on the floor. He heard you let out a soft sigh, and he carefully rubbed the warm skin of the inside of your wrists.
"You sigh as if the ropes were a personal insult to your station, rather than a consequence of your house's failings," he murmured, a flicker of amusement touching his eyes. He watched a soft pout form on your lips.
“You mean my father’s,” you said quietly, knowing your father’s gambling was the very reason you were stuck in this situation. A daughter in exchange for a debt. He certainly didn’t seem in a rush to pay it off. And Ormund didn’t mind.
He let out a dry chuckle, leaning further back in his tub when he let go of your wrists.
“Yes,” he said, “your father. Quite an insolent man, if one can call him a man at all. A true man pays off his debts. And though his debt is deep, one would think that an imprisoned daughter is enough to make a person act right.”
You didn’t reply to his words. They were meant to humble you, embarrass you of your father and your lineage, and to push you closer to Ormund instead.
He was a man. He was a Lord, a knight, a man of faith. He was the perfect man for a woman like you. And each day he tore down your walls and your love for your family, until there was only room left for him in your heart.
You may be under his skin, but Ormund… Ormund was in your heart.
So you remained silent and let his words wash over you while you removed your green gown. Ormund watched with silent attention, watching every inch of skin be revealed. You wore no undergarments, since you were still a prisoner. And Ormund refused to indulge you too much.
Besides, it was easier for him that way.
You stepped into the warm water, settling right on top of his lap as if you belonged there. Your legs were on either side of his hips, and you nuzzled your face against his throat like a needy cat. When you didn’t feel his large hands settle on your waist the second you had sat on him, you let out a soft whine. Ormund only sighed, his hands sliding from your hips up to your waist, settling you closer against him. You had to be the most spoiled prisoner that had ever existed.
“No reply?” he spoke gently, one of his hands sliding up your spine, then moved to tug your head back by your hair. “You are a brat, my lady,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours. “Do you believe that simply because you climb into my bath, you don’t have to reply to me?”
He watched you search for an answer for a moment, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I do now know what you wish to hear,” you whined, shoulders slumping. “You wish to hear me agree? That my father is a gambler? An embarrassment? A bad father and man?” You sighed annoyed, a noise that Ormund didn’t like to hear. You rested your head on his shoulder again. “Just say you love me again,” you whispered. “Oh, please… I do so love to hear it…”
Ormund sighed himself, an irritated sound. It had been a mistake, something he had said in the heat of the moment. But you had clung to those words like a beggar clings to a coin, and he knew you had bound yourself to him forever.
He looked down at you, his hand moving up and down your spine. You didn’t want him to let you go free, you wanted him to be yours as well. Fully and completely. You wanted him to bend to your will, spoil you in whichever way you wanted him to. And, Gods help him, he would. He liked seeing you smile, and dressed up in Hightower colours and he liked hearing you moan and mewl his name.
"You know it is a lie," he murmured, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "A man does not 'love' a prisoner. A man does not 'love' a girl who treats his lordship like a personal servant and his war like a tedious interruption to her morning."
“I do not do that,” you tried to argue, your lips brushing the skin of his throat.
He ignored your words, instead taking a hold of your hips and pressed you tighter against him. He felt your breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples already hard from either the cold or arousal. Ormund knew which one.
"I love you," he said, the words sounding heavy, as if they pained him to say them out loud. "I love you enough to let you ruin me. I love you enough to let you sit in the middle of a war and act as though the world exists only to serve your whims. Does that satisfy you, my little prisoner? Or must I say it again while you're busy devouring me?"
“You must say it again,” you breathed out, sitting upright on his lap. You cupped his face between your hands, feeling the slight stubble underneath your fingertips. “You must tell me again,” you repeated, “for I love you. Most ardently-”
Ormund released the breath he was holding, his hand pressing against your lower back. His eyes dropped towards your lips for a moment.
"You say you love me," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "Do you mean it? Or is it just another way to demand what you want? Because if you mean it... if you truly love the man who holds you captive..." He leaned in, his lips brushing yours, "...then stop talking. Stop whining. And show me."
You returned the kiss, your lips pressing against his. They were surprisingly soft against yours, though by now you had gotten used to that contradiction. You tilted your head slightly, enough to deepen the kiss, lips now moving against his, and then pulled back.
“You may only love me,” you murmured against his lips, “Only me. I am the only woman in your heart-”
You placed your hand on his chest, right over his heart, pretending not to feel hurt that his heartbeat was slow and steady instead of pounding against his ribcage. Ormund sighed your name, watching your dilated eyes.
“You are foolish,” he spoke so gently it nearly sounded like a compliment. Both his hands grabbed your hips, pulling your body flush against his, his hard cock now pressing right against your core. He kissed you again, deeper this time. He forced his tongue between your lips, wanting to taste you, wanting to remind you that it was him who held the ropes.
He broke the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down the line of your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.
"If you are the only woman in my heart," he growled against your skin, his hands lifting you slightly so he could feel the full, staggering heat of you pressed against his cock, “then just take me.”
You moved your hips then, starting a slow, steady grind against him. You pressed your bare cunt against his member, your clit pressing just right against him. You let out shaky breaths, and they became more uneven when he slid his hands up your waist to cup your breasts.
"Look at me," he murmured, his voice a low, authoritative rasp that cut through the haze of your pleasure. He squeezed your breasts, something that made a low moan escape you. You opened your eyes again, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. He pressed a kiss against your throat, sliding one of his hands between your legs, slipping a finger into your warm center. He watched your lips part in a silent moan, and he surged forward to kiss you again.
"You are mine," he said, the words a dark vow whispered as he moved his finger in and out of you, adding a second when he felt impatient. "Not the Vale’s. Not your father's. Mine. Do you understand?"
He felt you grind down on his thick digits, so he grabbed your throat and forced you to look at him.
“I will not repeat my question again,” he spoke lowly, darkly.
“I-I under--understand-” you managed to pant out, and you knew he was pleased with your answer when he slid his hand away from your throat and back to your hip.
“Good girl..” he said, slipping his fingers out of you and tilting you just enough so the tip of his cock was lined up with your entrance.
He didn't ask if you were ready, or even if you wanted this. Because he knew you did. He owned you, body and soul. He pushed you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your head tilted back and a deep moan escaped you. He was so big, so thick, you always felt like you were stretched to your limit. “Ormund,” you breathed out. “Oh… nnh…”
“Yes,” he gritted out, fucking into you from underneath, ignoring the way the cooling water was splashing over the edge. “Take it. Take it like the good little girl you are.”
He drove into you, deep enough to leave his mark that would stay there forever. A piece of you only he would ever reach.
"Say it again," he commanded, his tone soft but possessing that unmistakable authority. He leaned down, his chest heaving against yours. "Tell me who you belong to. Tell me whose name is on your lips when you lose yourself."
He wanted to hear you moan his name. It made him feel like the most powerful man in the world. And even though he was quite nearly the most powerful man in Oldtown, the high he felt when he was dominating you, owning you, was a high he had never felt before.
“Ormund-” you gasped out, grinding hard down on his cock, moving with a desperation he nearly found endearing. “I’m-I’m yours--only yours.”
Your words were broken and stammered, but it was exactly what he wanted to hear. He held your hips even tighter, moving you harder up and down his cock until he felt the familiar trembling of your body when you were nearing your climax.
“That’s it,” he purred in your ear as he rubbed circles against your clit, “come for me. Come all over my cock.”
He held you tightly and made sure your movements never faltered up and down his cock when your own movements became choppy and stuttered. And then, when you finally fell over that edge, you kissed him. His fingers squeezed your flesh so tight he was leaving bruises, and all he could taste was you on his tongue. He forced himself balls deep inside of you as he came, ignoring your soft pained mewls. He came so deep inside of you, he knew his cum was flooding your womb, which pleased him deeply.
As he slumped back against the tub and you against his chest, the water slowly calmed down as well. He held you close against his chest, allowing you to catch your breath, yet not allowing you to remove yourself from his softening cock.
“There,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. He felt you rest your entire weight against him, and he simply held you close, his hands on your waist and massaging the sore skin of your hips.
He felt you move sluggishly, moving your head back up to look at him. You pressed yourself up, your hands on his shoulders, kissing the side of his mouth.
“Be mine…” you spoke quietly, that same desperation still clinging heavily to your voice. Your fingertips traced his jaw, the stubble on his cheek, his lips, and he let you. His eyes softened as he watched your tired eyes, still shining with that desperate need to hear him say he loved you, too. That he needed you, too.
“You know I already am,” he admitted softly, his hand catching yours, the one that was trailing his features. “You know I am. And yet, you ask it as if it were a new thing. As if we are not already tangled in a knot that even the finest weaver in Oldtown could not undo." He kissed you again, a kiss that spoke as clearly as his words just had.
Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader (house not specified)
Summary: you feel ignored by Aemond at a feast and storm off. He comes to retrieve you
Warnings: smut with very little plot, clothed pussy kissing, missionary, PiV, doggy style, clothed sex, public sex, reader is a brat, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise, a little aftercare
2K
You and Aemond both hated feasts. Well, until tonight, apparently. You had been waiting for him for over an hour, standing near the wall like a delicate wallflower.
You were annoyed. Impatient.
Aemond was moving through the feast, some approaching him, some bowing, some simply moving out of the way as quickly as they could. And finally, he spotted you. He nodded politely to a few lords and tried to force a polite smile to women who were clearly searching his favor. And though his smile was obviously forced, you still narrowed your eyes.
The second he was with you, his shoulders eased a bit, the tension bleeding out.
“Took you long enough,” you spoke annoyed, curt. You took a sip of your wine, eyeing him up and down. He hated when you did that. Had hated it ever since he was around fourteen years old. It was too searching, too exposing. His eye never left you, though he clenched his jaw for just a moment. “I was beginning to believe you forgot about me.”
You pouted as you said that, and he finally took a step closer. Still far enough to be appropriate, but close enough for you to feel that flicker of tension between you both.
“Forget you?” He spoke in his gentle voice, a silent warning behind it. “I would never be able to do such a thing. You… command the room. Or except just me.”
“Do not jest-“ you replied, feeling some more annoyance bubble up inside of you. “You were ignoring me. I caught your eye twenty minutes ago. You kept your post. You didn’t even smile at me-“
Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly as he listened to your complaining, staying quiet until he was certain you were done rattling on.
“I am still a prince, my lady,” he said, “such conversing is expected of me. Besides, twenty minutes is not that long, my dear friend.”
The word friend was enough to make you nearly angry. How dare he call you his ‘friend’. You were more than that. So much more.
“Well,” he started, an amused glint in his eye, “I am here now. You have my undivided attention. Shall we talk of the weather? Or perhaps take a turn around the room and speak of gossip and-“
“You-“
“Or,” he said, fully cutting you off, “will you punish me even more for simply… performing my duties?”
“I shall punish you,” you said, the words coming out breathier than expected. Aemond’s eye darkened for a moment, his lips parting as he listened to your threat.
“I mean—I meant as in, next time I shall ignore you, too.”
You watched his tongue poke his cheek. You were being a brat, as usual, but the thought of you ignoring him sent a spark of annoyance through him. He didn’t want you to ignore him. Ever. He wanted you to only look at him.
“Ignore me?” He stared down at you, noticing every small detail of you, even the flecks in your eyes. “A bold strategy. But you certainly lack the discipline to do such a thing.”
He took your wine then, finishing it in one gulp.
“Tell me,” he said, a clear challenge in his voice, “how long do you truly believe you could hold out before you seek me out again?”
You scoffed. “Well,” you said, “let’s see.”
And you walked off. You walked out of the great hall, down the quiet corridors, right towards the gardens. Aemond stood frozen as he watched you walk off. Some men wouldn’t have chased you, simply deciding to ignore such an insolent lady. Another might have run after you, desperate and shouting and causing a scene.
But Aemond was still a prince of the blood. He didn’t rush after a woman, but he definitely wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being left alone. Though he knew you wanted him to follow you.
He waited a few minutes before he walked towards where you disappeared. He moved silently through the corridors, and found you in the cool night air of the gardens.
He approached you from behind, seeing the way the moonlight lit up your appearance.
“A coward’s retreat, my lady?” He spoke, making you turn around immediately, nearly hitting his chest. “Fleeing the moment a challenge arises? I believe you to possess more courage than that…”
“I am not a coward,” you hissed back. You didn’t take a step back, refusing to back down. Refusing to be further away from him. Aemond took a step forward, backing you up behind a thick bush.
And you let him.
“You speak out of line, my prince,” you warned him.
“I speak exactly as the truth demands..” he purred back, a familiar shiver going down your spine. “You ran away, to a very quiet place indeed. Quiet and private.”
He stood so close now, you could smell the scent of him, feel the heat of him. You looked down, seeing his fingers twitch.
“And if you truly wished to ignore me.. you would have gone to your chambers. Had your knight keep everyone, including me, out. But no… the lady had to run outside, hide away where no one would pass, waiting for the big, bad dragon to find her-“
You were nearly trembling now, his low, raspy voice sending shivers down your spine straight towards your core.
You raised your hands, touching his doublet, staring up at him with nearly glassy eyes.
“Just fuck me-“ you spoke, and the sheer bluntness of your words caught Aemond fully off guard.
And then the words registered.
He grabbed your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of the gown, and tugged you so close your bodies were pressed together.
“Fuck you?” He whispered, “careful, my lady. Such words are awfully wanton for a lady of noble breeding..”
He didn’t even let you reply. He leaned down, closing the gap between the both of you. He kissed you hard, deep, needy. He wasn’t soft, he wasn’t careful. He just took, and took, and took. And to his surprise, you matched his need. He felt you kiss him back, your tongue, soft and wet, sliding against his. Your teeth dragging his lower lip down.
His hands wandered over your body, grabbing your waist, sliding up to grab your breasts, moving further up to tug on your hair and force you to tilt your head back so he could bite and kiss at your throat.
“Gods,” he moaned quietly, his hand grabbing your throat, forcing you to look at him. “You are maddening.”
You whined, a sound from deep in your throat, and he could feel the vibrations underneath his palm.
“If you do not stop now,” he breathed out, “I won’t have the patience to carry you upstairs. To my chambers-“
“I do not care,” you cut him off. He could take you right here in the gardens for all you cared. You just needed him inside, no matter what he decided to give you.
He let out a breathless laugh, a sound of pure disbelief at your wantonness.
“Then let us not waste another second,” he hissed, and within seconds, he had you down in the grass. You stared as he hitched your skirts up with rushed movements, exposing your stocking clad legs and the cotton undergarments you wore.
“Soaked,” he commented, which made your skin flush.
He pressed your legs wide open, a small whine escaping you when you felt the stretch.
He ignored you. He leaned in, pressing his mouth right against the wet fabric, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your clothed mound.
You jolted, a moan escaping you. Aemond’s eye flicked up at the sound, his pupil so dilated his eye seemed black. He moved to remove the fabric, leaving your cunt bare.
“Watch me,” he breathed, undoing his breeches and shoving them down just enough to free his hard cock, “look at me as I take what is mine, and only mine.”
He entered you after three teasing grinds against your clit, his length stretching you out. You let out a loud moan, your back arching off of the grass. The sound of your moan sent another jolt down his spine, making his cock impossibly harder.
“Gods, you are loud-” he said, “Do not forget where we are, sweet lady..“ he teased, the grin on his face making you want to pull his hair. Hard.
You just grabbed his hand that hadn’t left your throat, sliding two of his fingers between your lips to suck on. Aemond stared with wide eyes as your cheeks hollowed, the feeling of your tongue sliding against his digits making his head spin.
He never would’ve guessed you would be so… eager.
“You ruin me,” he said in a broken moan, picking up his thrusts again. He fucked into you, again and again, the sound of skin hitting skin and the sound of your wet cunt wrapped around his cock sounding awfully loud in the quiet night.
“Mmh-“ you moaned around his fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist. He was so deep, so thick. You felt like you were losing your mind. He slid his fingers out for a moment to grab your waist, which gave you the opportunity to speak.
“Next time,” you panted out, “it will be your cock between my lips-“
Aemond growled, a smirk forming on his lips at your words. “Is that a promise?” He said, looking utterly pleased. He pulled out, manhandling you roughly so you were on your hands and knees. He took a moment to watch you. A pretty, bratty princess on her hands and knees, skirts gathered at your waist, exposing your legs and core. His hands touched your warm skin, a soft hum escaping him.
“Next time..” he murmured. “Now that I do hope is a promise.”
He grabbed his cock, sliding the tip teasingly between your soaked folds. It was maddening, enough to make you whimper and arch your back even further. His hand touched the skin on your back, seeing goosebumps appear.
“Give me more-“ you whined, “just—I need more-“ your whimpers were cut off when he entered you in a single, hard thrust.
“As you wish,” he gritted out, his hands grabbing your hips tightly, groaning when he felt you bounce back against him. One of his hands slid up your back, between your shoulder blades, forcing you to arch deeper, pressing your face into the soft grass.
“There you go..” he purred, speeding up his thrusts. “Fuck, that’s it-“
All you could do was gasp and whimper into the grass, his cock stretching you to the limit as he pounded into you.
“Touch yourself, my lady,” he barely managed to pant out, and you had half a mind to reach down and rub at your clit. He felt you tighten up, a low rumble sounding from deep in his chest.
“Pretty girl… my perfect girl..”
“Aemond-“ you gasped, “oh—oh, Gods-!” Your movements on your clit were rushed and sloppy, but precise enough to push you that final bit over the edge. “Aemond-!”
The second you came, clenching around Aemond’s cock like a vice, he came as well. Thick, hot cum flooded inside of you, and he stayed deep inside until both of your orgasms had subsided. He pulled out shakily, watching as his cum dripped out of you, and he let out a shaky laugh. “You are…” he spoke softly, “such a brat.”
You only whined in response, your body utterly spent.
“I know, I know…” he said softly, grabbing his handkerchief and trying to clean you up as best as he could. He was careful, shushing you whenever you would whimper when he grazed a sensitive bit. “Did so good, darling,” he murmured, helping you upright. When he saw your face, flushed and covered with some dirt from where your cheek was pressed against the grass, he smiled. He wiped the dirt off, then kissed your cheek.
“Look at you…” he murmured, “a lady of the blood, covered in dirt from the gardens. You should be ashamed, my lady,” he teased, though there was no heat behind his words.
"But perhaps," he added, "I am the one who should be ashamed. For I find I have no desire to be anywhere else but here, at your feet."
You nuzzled into the hand that was now cupping your cheek. “I hate you…” you murmured, your eyes looking up into his. “Never ignore me again.”
He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
can you believe I actually PROOFREAD this I know its unheard of honestly;
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Helaena is your next door neighbour and dear friend. You both call one night to get her mind off of things, but the conversation quickly changes. Not that she minds.
Warnings: phone sex!!!, teasing, undressing, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, jilling instructions/guided masturbation, confessions, fingering, breast play, a lot of fluff. MDNI.
4.5K
The second her light flicked on, it drew your attention. Her bedroom, facing yours, was lit up by a small lamp on her bedside table. You swirled around in your deskchair, until you spotted her. She was walking around, having dropped her bag next to the door. She removed her sweater, before plopping down heavily on her bed.
You saw she sighed deeply.
You huffed, before grabbing your phone.
>> long day?
You texted her. You noticed she kept staring up at her ceiling, ignoring her phone. You knew her for long enough now to not take that personally. And after fifteen minutes, she dragged herself back up, and grabbed her phone. You heard the soft ding moment later.
Don’t even get me started..<<
You snorted at that. Helaena should know by now you liked to get her started. You liked to give her a space where she could rant and complain all she wanted.
>>tell me !!!
You noticed how the glow slightly lit her face up more. She finally lifted her head and searched for you. When she saw you sitting at your desk, a similar lamp burning on your nightstand, you saw a vague smile.
Ugh fine<<
She didn't start texting, she disappeared into her bathroom for a bit. When she came back, she was dressed down to soft pajamas. Her hair was down from her braid as well. And then… she called. You nearly jumped when you heard your phone vibrating on your desk.
Helaena wasn't a big caller, so this had to be bad.
You picked up on the third ring.
“Hey,” you breathed out, clearing your throat.
“Hi,” she replied, her voice that same soft, soothing sound. You heard her move around on the other side of the line, and noticed her rummaging around her bedroom when you looked up. Moving things, putting things away. You waited for a moment longer.
“So, long day?” you said again, hearing a sigh from her side of the line. You watched her put a final book away, before she dropped herself on her bed again.
“The longest. I think this course is trying to kill me,” she replied to you with a tiredness that made you feel even worse for the girl. “I thought English lit would be a smart addition to my curriculum, but I regret it now. So bad. I barely even like to read anymore because of it.” You listened to her sigh, chewing your bottom lip for a moment and deciding what to say to make her feel better.
“I’m sorry, Hel,” you finally murmured, “maybe it’s just a little rough patch right now. Which book are you reading?”
“Fucking Emma,” she huffed out, and you saw her sit back up now, legs crossed. Pajama shorts riding up.
“Fucking Emma? Sounds very interesting,” you replied with a lame joke, but hearing her soft half-laugh half-sigh made it worth it.
“You know that’s not part of the title,” she gently scolded, and you just smiled, nodding even if she wasn’t able to hear that. “Sorry,” she said after a moment, “I’m just tired. And frustrated. I’ve just been so busy with uni, and mom is always busy with my brothers. And my dad…” You heard another sigh. “Well, you know how he is.”
“You know I’m here for you, Hel,” you said softly into the phone, “the offer to place a plank between our windows still stands…”
She laughed at that, and you could even see her shoulders shake when you looked out the window.
“We are not doing that! It’s too dangerous.” But she laughed nonetheless. “I miss hanging out with you. I’ve just been so busy..”
“Hey, it’s totally okay. And if calling every evening before you go to bed helps, I'm totally down for that.” You stood up from your chair, waving at her. After a moment you heard a small puff of air escaping her before she waved back.
“You’re so cheesy,” she said after a moment.
“What? Cheesy? I’m just checking in on a friend!”
“Yeah, well, your friend is tired and frustrated,” you heard her say.
“You know I can try to help,” you said, clearing your throat. That came out wrong. Kinda. “I mean, we can talk about your course, or about anything else-”
You heard Helaena hum, thinking for a moment about your offer. She could talk about how in English Lit two girls had looked at her funny, or she could talk about how her mother barely had time for her.
“Anything?” she said after a long moment. “Like… which books I do like? Or maybe about how I’m convinced the same spider crossed paths with me three times today?”
You laughed softly. “Yeah, anything. You can even talk about which pen is your favourite right now. Or maybe which pair of underwear is your least favourite-”
“Hey!” you heard her huff out, and you laughed again. A small silence fell between you, and you saw her change positions on her bed; now lying on her side, her head on her pillow and her phone propped up beside her. You moved as well, sitting down on your own bed.
“Hey,” she murmured in a more serious tone, and it made you shift. “Do you ever just… feel like you’re waiting on something? Not like a big trip, but… there’s just something about to happen in your life… and all you can do is wait for it to happen?”
You sat more straight. “Do you mean something… bad? Like, do you feel anxious a lot?”
She shook her head no. At least, you heard some fabric rusting on her side. “No, not a bad way. I think, at least. I mean, I don’t feel nervous. It’s almost… exciting. In its inevitability. I have a good feeling about it.”
“Oh, well,” you said, studying her quietly through the window. The sun was slowly setting, both your rooms growing darker by the minute--except for the single light you both had on. “I… don’t feel that way. I mean, not right now. But I think I have felt that way before. I think I felt that way before… well, when I heard we were getting new neighbours. I felt it then. And then, a month later… there were you.” A soft smile graced your lips.
Helaena flushed a bright pink at your words, and she was glad you wouldn’t be able to see it. “Really?” you heard her say softly on the other end of the line. “You felt that way?” Her voice was trembling just little enough that you weren’t able to make it out. But your comment had affected her. A lot. She moved again, now staring at the ceiling. Being able to look into your bedroom right now would’ve been too much.
“I mean, yeah,” you replied, “New neighbours, new people. I just… had this feeling that something was coming. And like you said, not in a bad way.”
Helaena stared at the ceiling, and remembered that day, the first meeting between you two, like it was yesterday. She saw you standing there, next to your parents, and for the first time she hadn’t felt the need to look away, or at the floor. She had looked at you, and you had smiled and introduced yourself. Helaena had blushed, spoken her own name too quietly in return. But you hadn’t laughed at her, or asked her to repeat herself. You had smiled brighter, and said ‘I hope to see you around.’
And she ended up seeing you a lot, since your windows faced each other.
But she didn’t mind. Still didn’t.
"I thought..." Helaena started, then paused, searching for the right words. She wasn't good at being direct. "I thought you were just being kind. Because you're a kind person. You're so... bright. Like a sunbeam that decided to settle in a garden of shadows." She let out a shaky, breathless laugh, her fingers nervously twisting a loose thread on her pillowcase. "But if you felt it too..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting back toward the window, towards your silhouette.
“I think you’re pretty cool,” you said, which earned you a genuine laugh. She loved that she could be herself around you. That she could use whatever metaphors bubbled up inside of her, and that you wouldn’t call her weird, or strange, or difficult.
“Cool?” she repeated teasingly, though her blush was still colouring her cheeks. You smiled.
“Sorry, I’m not the best at words like you are. But yeah. You’re really cool.” You moved as well, lying down on your bed, feeling more relaxed now. “And.. and you’re really smart, Hel.” She wanted to say something, usually making self-deprecating jokes when you complimented her, but this time it felt different. The entire conversation felt different.
“And… pretty..”
A long silence fell after. Helaena’s eyes had widened at your words, and for the first time, she really hadn’t seen that coming. She usually liked to predict what you were gonna say next. A stupid pun, an anecdote, perhaps a story you had told before but she’d never tell you you’d told it before simply because she liked to hear you talk.
“Pretty…” she murmured softly, her voice nearly inaudibly. You swallowed nervously. You wanted to say you were sorry and that you used the wrong word, but that simply wasn’t the truth. She was pretty. And to you, the prettiest.
"You shouldn't say things like that," she whispered, though there was no real protest in her voice. It was more of a plea. "It makes it hard to... to keep my feet on the ground. It feels like if you keep saying it, I might just float away through the ceiling." She turned to look at your window, barely able to make out the basic layout of the room anymore. The sun had set. "Do you really think so?" she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, stripped of all its usual defenses. "Even when I'm... when I'm being strange? Even when I'm talking to the moths?"
You sighed softly. You just… had to say the truth. To her.
“Especially then,” you admitted softly. “I think you look very pretty when you bend down to look at certain insects. And you look very pretty when you smile, and then rush to me to explain what it said.”
Helaena didn’t know what to say. She felt so seen, in the best way. She finally found a person that thought she was interesting enough to pay attention to. A person who would listen to her ramblings, and-
“And,” you said, disrupting her train of thought, “I also think you look very pretty when you pretend you don’t see me… and undress in front of your open window.”
Helaena flushed red immediately. Her embarrassment was so intense she felt her blush all the way down her neck, to her chest and shoulders. "You..." she started, but the words died in her throat. She let out a sound that was half gasp, half whimper. "You were... watching?"
Your own eyes widened too, her words making the entire thing seem incredibly perverted, before you could defend yourself, she was blurting out all different kinds of excuses.
"I didn't... I didn't think..." Helaena stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of shy laughter and pure, unadulterated panic. "I thought the curtains were... I thought the light was dim enough..." She bit her lip, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. She peeked towards your window, seeing the soft light of your lamp, the dark silhouette of you on your bed.
“I don’t believe that, Hel,” you said, your voice softer, more intimate, “I think you wanted me to see.”
The silence after your bold statement was even more intense. All Helaena could hear was the sound of her blood rushing through her ears. You knew. Of course you knew--you knew her.
"Maybe," Helaena whispered, the confession slipping out like a secret she could no longer keep. "Maybe a little bit."
You let out a soft, shaky breath.
"Was it..." she whispered, her voice dropping to a level so low it was almost a secret shared between you in the dark. "Was it... a good view? Or was it just... strange?"
“Strange?” you laughed. “No, Hel, it wasn’t strange. It was… stunning. I tried to look away, I really did, but then you fucking took your shirt off, and-” you laughed softly. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And I looked like a--like a creep, or something.”
Helaena bit her lip and smiled.
"A creep?" she teased, her voice regaining a hint of its usual playful lilt, though it remained hushed. "No... not a creep. Just a witness."
“A witness..” you repeated, “well, I’m glad I was a witness. And I wouldn't mind witnessing it again.”
Helaena felt as though she might actually float away now, just as she had feared. "You're very dangerous," Helaena murmured, her voice soft and giddy. She rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling, but her eyes were bright. "If you keep saying things like that," Helaena continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I might just have to leave the curtains wide open every single night. Just to see if you're still there, watching the moths with me."
“Every night? Do you promise that?” you replied, and you heard that soft giggle again.
She paused, her heart doing a little skip jump in her chest.
"Well… would you?" she asked, the question hanging in the air between you, delicate and precious. "Would you still be there? Watching?"
You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you replied, “of course I would. Especially now, knowing that… that you want me to watch.”
"Then I will," Helaena whispered, her voice trembling with a newfound, quiet certainty. "I'll leave them open. A little bit. Just enough for the light to spill out... and for your eyes to find their way in."
You sat a little bit more upright. “Hel?” you said softly, and while you gathered your courage, Helaena was as well. Because you both knew what you were about to ask. “Can you… show me… now?”
“Right now?” she repeated, and you just nodded in reply. You stood up slowly, moving a bit closer to the window, sitting back down on your deskchair. “Okay,” you heard her murmur, “Just don’t… don’t look away. Okay?”
“Promise,” you whispered, watching as she sat upright on her bed. She set the phone down, pressing the speaker button, before she reached to the hem of her soft pajamas. Her heart was pounding, but she had never felt more sure of anything in her life. She wanted you to see her. And you couldn’t look away. You watched as she took the shirt off completely, leaving her in a soft pink bra. Her skin looked so soft, so pale, and you just wanted to touch it.
“Wow..” you mumbled, unable to find the words. “So… pretty.”
Helaena didn’t even feel the need to cover up with her hand. They just rested on the bed beside her. “I think you’re quite pretty, too..” she said. “Do you… like it? What you see?” Even though she knew you did, she still needed a bit of encouragement. A bit of praise.
“I do-” you spoke quickly. “A Lot. You look so… soft. And that bra is very cute. It’s very you.”
“It’s one of my favourites,” she replied, and you watched eagerly as her fingertips grazed the underside of the fabric. You didn’t want to miss a thing.
“It’s now one of my favourites, too..” you replied softly. That sentence alone made a heavy heat pool in the stomach of the girl. Helaena’s hands moved over the fabric, tracing the edges before they rested back on her lap.
“Hey,” she murmured softly, “if you were…” she fell silent for a moment. “If you were here… with me… where would your hands be?” It was a bold question, a question that had taken all of Helaena’s courage. It was also a question that made you lose your mind. It was spoken so innocently, even if it wasn’t innocent at all.
“Your waist,” you breathed out a second later. “I would put my hands on your waist. Feel the soft skin, watch goosebumps raise on your skin. I would… tease a bit. Make you wonder if my hands would move up… or down.” You licked your lips. You watched as one of her hands almost automatically traced her waist.
“Yeah,” you whisper, “like that.”
Helaena let out the softest moan. She closed her eyes for a second, imaging it was your hand on her waist instead. She could almost feel the warmth of them, the way you’d softly squeeze her waist, and then… then…
“And then?” she breathed out, looking back at you again, wishing she had agreed to your stupid ‘plank-between-windows-plan’. "Tell me more. Tell me... if your hands moved up... what would you do? Would you touch my ribs? Would you... would you find the places where my heart beats the fastest?"
You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought of this before, because you had. One evening you two had been sitting together, arms pressed together. Her skin was soft, and warm, and she smelled good. When you said goodbye you hugged her a little tighter, arms squeezing her waist. It was intoxicating.
“I would slide my hands up, yeah,” you murmured, “feel the softness of your skin. And then I would… I would trace the underside of your bra, feeling your heart speed up. Maybe slip my thumb underneath the elastic, just to hear a soft moan.” You watched as she mimicked what you just said.
“I think I would moan,” she whispered now, “and… arch closer into your touch.”
“And then…” you continued, voice a bit heavier, “I would move my hands so I was cupping your breast through the fabric. But I’m… impatient. So I’d probably take your bra off quickly. Would you let me?”
The idea of her bra being removed, of that final, thin barrier between her and your touch being swept away, made her feel a dizzying sense of vertigo. "Yes," Helaena breathed, the word a sudden, fierce exhale. There was no hesitation in her voice this time, only a raw honesty. "Yes, please. I don't want anything between us. Not even the lace." She reached behind her, her fingers fumbling with the clasp, until the fabric finally fell away. She watched as you nearly pressed your cheek against your window to see, and she heard a soft sigh filled with pleasure. And this time you couldn’t hold back a soft cuss.
“Fuck,” you mumbled, seeing her breasts for the first time. They were soft, and her nipples were pink and you could swear they were hard. “You’re… perfect.”
She leaned toward the window, her eyes searching the dark, her expression one of longing. "Now... what would you do next?" she asked almost impatiently. "If you were standing here... right in front of me... what would you do with those hands?"
“Not just my hands,” you whispered, causing a warm shiver to roll down Helaena’s spine and settle in her core. “I would… cup them first. Feel the weight, the heat. And then I’d… squeeze them. I’ve always wanted to squeeze them.”
Helaena let out a sound that was a mixture between a laugh and a moan.
“I’d pinch your nipples, gently, of course. See what you like. Watch them grow a deeper pink.”
Helaena moaned softly.
“Can you do that for me?” you asked in a nearly pleading voice, “please, bug. I want to see.”
The nickname bug sent a jolt through Helaena that made her impossibly more turned on. It was her essence, her very identity, and you had claimed it, turned it into a term of endearment that felt like a caress. "Yes," Helaena whimpered, the word catching in her throat. "Yes. Watch me. Please."
You watched as her hand moved up, her hand finally cupping her breast. She squeezed softly, her fingers spread to cup the entirety of it. You heard the way her breath hitched and soft mewls escaped her. Then, with a shaky breath, she moved her thumb and forefinger to the peak of her breast. You watched her in the dim light of the lamp, her eyes lidded and glazed over, as she began to roll the sensitive bud between her fingers. The sweetest moan escaped her as she applied a tiny bit more pressure, a gentle pinch that sent a lightning bolt of sensation straight to her core. "Like... like this?" she gasped, her voice a ragged, breathless sound. She increased the pressure slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as she focused entirely on the sensation.
“Yeah,” you moaned, “and then… I would kiss your other breast. I would… take your nipple in my mouth. Suck on it.” You moved to undo your jeans, opening the button and zipper so you could shove a hand inside.
"Oh... gods..." Helaena whimpered, her fingers still working rhythmically at her breast, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. You could see her back arch, which sent a shiver down your spine. She was responsive.
"You're... you're doing it too," Helaena whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and desire. Her free hand drifted down, her fingers tracing the line of her stomach, following the path of her own rising heat. "You're not just watching... you're with me."
“Yeah,” you gasped out, “you’re so… so perfect, and sexy, and--” you let out another shaky moan. “You turn me on so much, bug-”
She let out a long, shuddering moan, her hips arching slightly as she increased the rhythm of her hand against her breast, her other hand venturing lower, seeking the heat that was building in her core. She’d never been called sexy before. It made her feel… powerful.
"Tell me," she urged, her voice a low, melodic command, thick with a newfound confidence. "Tell me how much you want me. Tell me what you'd do if you could just... reach through the dark and take me right now."
“Fuck, Hel,” you hissed, your hand finding yourself hot and wet. “I would push you down on your bed, kiss you breathless. Maybe even leave my mark on you. Because you’re mine, Hel, all mine-”
She whined softly.
“And then I would kiss my way down, until my face was right in front of your pussy.”
She let out a gasp, pleasantly surprised by your crude words.
“I bet you taste so good, baby,” you said lowly, your own fingers pressing hard against your clit. You groaned softly, setting the phone down for a moment so you could take your jeans off completely. The sound of the rustle of denim made Helaena’s head spin.
“Please don’t stop talking,” she whimpered, and you didn’t even have it in you to tease her. She let out a long, high pitched moan, her eyes rolling back as she found her clit, her fingers mimicking the pressure she imagined your mouth would provide.
“I’d press kisses all over your thighs,” you said, “but I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I would--” a sharp moan escaped you, “I’d lick a long stripe up your soft pussy. Taste your sweetness, feel how fucking wet you are. You are, aren’t you, bug? Let me hear it-”
With her mind half-gone, Helaena moved her phone closer. And you could hear her; those sweet, soaked sounds of her fingers moving through her pussy. "Yes!" she cried out, the word breaking into a sob of pleasure. "Yes-! I'm... I'm so wet... it's everywhere..." Her hips were bucking into her hand now, growing increasingly more desperate. "I'm so sweet for you," she whimpered, her voice thick and honeyed with arousal, her eyes squeezed shut as she visualized your face, your lips, your tongue. "Please... taste me... please... lick me... please..."
“Jesus, fuck, bug-” you moaned, staring at her through the window, watching the way her hand moved so quickly between her thighs. “I’d make you feel so good. You’d take two of my fingers so easily, wouldn’t you? Maybe even a third-”
"Yes..." she sobbed, her voice a ragged, desperate melody. "Yes, please... fill me... make me feel everything..." She had two of her own fingers inside now, using her other hand to rub circles on her clit. "I'm... I'm right there..." she gasped, her voice breaking, her entire body trembling with the force of her impending release. "Please... look at me... w-watch me!"
Your own fingers never stopped moving as you saw her cum, her back arching and the sound of her moans filling your ears. Her muscles tightened, her toes curled, and she let out a long, high-pitched moan of your name.
“Fuck-!” you hissed, a deep moan escaping you as you came at the sight of her. “Helaena… Helaena…” you panted, watching as she melted into her mattress. You stayed silent, listening to her breathing slow down, watching her come down from her high.
“Hey,” you murmured after a moment, “how do you feel, Hel?”
You heard her let out a soft, breathless giggle. The usual frantic buzzing in her mind, the thoughts of bugs and dreams and things others didn't understand, had settled into a calm, golden hum. "Like..." she started, her voice low. She paused, searching for the words, her fingers tracing lazy, absent minded circles on the warm skin of her stomach. "Like a butterfly that just finished its cocoon. Everything is... new. Everything is bright."
“Is that a good thing, baby?” you asked softly, even surprising Helaena with the soft and gentle sound of your voice.
She let out a small, sleepy sound of agreement, her head sinking deeper into the pillow.
"I feel... wonderful," she breathed, her voice trailing off into a contented murmur. "Do you... do you feel it too? The way the air feels different now?"
You groaned softly as you finally got out of the chair, and sat back down on your bed. You still wanted to see her. “I do feel it,” you agreed, “and things are different, right? Between us.”
"Everything is different," Helaena agreed, her voice a melodic murmur. She sounded as though she were speaking from a dream, her words slow and deliberate. “I’m yours.”
A smile made its way onto your lips. “Yeah, baby,” you murmured, “You’re mine. But you always have been, haven’t you?
"Yes," Helaena breathed, her voice gaining a sudden clarity. "I think... I think my soul has been humming your name since the very beginning. I just didn't know the song yet." She curled onto her side, pulling the duvet closer to her chin, feeling incredibly safe, incredibly cherished. "Don't let me go," she murmured, her voice growing heavy with the sweet pull of sleep. "Keep me... keep me in your hands. Even when we aren't... even when we aren't like this. Keep me yours."
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hii!! I had a silly question, and honestly if you don’t feel comfortable you can decline :P im making an oc to ship with aemond and i had a lot of it planned out but i really liked your plot for “pet” and i was wondering if i could use like two details from it? the only two details being: i want her to be an orphan, and i want him to teach her how to read. their dynamic won’t be similar to your fic, i wont include any of the other events you wrote about, and i would introduce her to aemond before he loses his eye. i feel like ive made enough changes to where its not plagiarism, but i just wanted to double check :( i’m not even sure if i’ll post art of them publicly but in the off chance i do, i wanted to check in with you.
Warnings: porn with no plot, PiV, mirror sex, unprotected sex, MDNI, table sex, bruising, clothed male, unclothed female, creampies, mentions of becoming pregnant, dirty talk
Notes: I had to research armour names and parts for this lowkey went into a rabbit hole. sorry for any spelling errors
2.4K
“What is that?” you asked Aemond, staring at him with wide, interested eyes.
He paused, his hands stilling on the fastenings of the newly forged breastplate. The armor was darker than most, sleek and intimidating, with sharp lines. At your question, his single eye met yours, and a flicker of that old, guarded tension returned.
"It is… necessary," he said, his voice flat. He did not explain. He just turned slightly, presenting the armor to you as if it were the answer. The pauldrons were etched with subtle, coiling dragon motifs, and the steel was the color of black, smoked iron. It was not the gleaming plate of a tourney knight; it was the functional, intimidating harness of a man expecting war.
He saw the concern in your gaze, the unspoken question.
Why now?
"The realm watches," he stated, the words clipped. "They will not see a prince with a... a weakness. They will see a weapon." The last word was spoken with a cold finality.
But, Gods, he looked… good. Too good.
“Come here,” you breathed out, your eyes unable to leave the formidable form of him.
He froze at your command.
He turned his head slowly, his single eye searching your face, finding not fear or disapproval, but something that made the breath catch in his throat. The heat in your gaze was a different kind of weapon, and he was utterly defenseless against it.
A low, involuntary sound escaped him. He took a single step toward you, the heavy greaves and sabatons making a soft clink against the stone floor. He stopped again, just out of reach, as if the very air between you had become charged.
"You... approve?" he asked, the question almost disbelieving. His hand, encased in a gauntlet, lifted slightly, then fell back to his side, the gesture almost hesitant. The armor was meant to intimidate the realm, to project an image of strength. Yet here, before you, he felt laid bare by your eyes alone.
You licked your lips, nodding eagerly. That alone looked sinful, Aemond shivering. “I do,” you murmured. “I… wow..”
The last shred of his control shattered. Your words, your eyes, the sinful view of your tongue; they were a spark to dry tinder. In a few steps he closed the distance between you.
He did not kiss you… yet. Instead, he caught your chin in his gauntleted hand and tilted your face up, his single eye blazing with a hungry fire.
"‘Wow," he repeated, his voice a velvety rasp. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You have seen me in silks. You have seen me bare. But this…" He pulled back just enough to let you see the stark intensity in his gaze. "This is what takes your breath away.."
Only then did he kiss you, the kiss hard and demanding. He was yours, irrevocably, in every form he took, in every piece of clothing he wore and weapon he wore at his belt.
“I have seen you bare,” you said softly, a small smile on your lips as if you were most proud of that fact. “But this…. This is different. You look… dangerous. But so… so ravishing.”
A shudder ran through him at your words. Dangerous. Ravishing. They were not words the Realm used for him. They used words of fear and whispered scorn. But you… you called him ravishing.
A low sound escaped him, a half-moan. He captured your mouth again, the kiss deepening into something frantic and consuming. The cold metal of his vambrace pressed against the small of your back as he pulled you flush against the steel of his breastplate.
"Then let me be dangerous for you," he breathed against your lips, his voice ragged with want. "Let me be who you ravish. Let me be your husband." He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "The armor stays on," he commanded, the order a dark, thrilling promise. He would show you exactly what this new, dangerous version of him could do.
“Yes--keep it on-“ you moaned out, shivering when you felt his hands eagerly tugging your skirts up. And that was all the permission he needed.
The cold plates of his armor pressed against your soft skin, a delicious contrast. His gauntleted hands were not gentle as they pulled your skirts up, the steel scraping faintly against your skin—a reminder of the strength he possessed, now entirely at your service.
"I will," he growled, the word hot against your throat. He lifted you with ease and carried you the few steps to the nearest sturdy table, clearing it with a sweep of his arm. He set you down upon the edge, stepping between your parted legs.
He looked down at you, his breath coming faster, his expression one of unfiltered possession. "You wanted a dangerous man," he murmured, his hands settling on your hips, the metal cool through the fabric. "Now you have him."
A shiver went down your spine, growing even more intense when he removed the eyepatch. His face was hovering above yours, now his one eye and his sapphire staring into your soul. “Gods-“ you gasped, “just—do whatever you want to me-“
He tossed the eyepatch aside, a discarded piece of the mask he wore. Here, with you, he needed no disguise. He felt exposed, but in your gaze he saw only heat and acceptance. Something that made him feel impossibly powerful.
"Whatever I want," he repeated, his voice a dark, reverent echo.
And what he wanted was you. All of you.
He claimed your mouth again, the kiss intense and punishing. He was not gentle. He could not be, not like this, not when the beast you had unleashed was roaring in his blood.
Fuck, he was hard. He’d been so busy with war planning, he’d nearly forgotten the heat his own wife always brought him. With some shifting and manoeuvring he managed to safely pull his hard cock out, brushing the tip against your heat.
He groaned, the curls between your legs soaking wet. “All me, huh?” He breathed out, nearly cocky in the way he said it. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly, the metal biting into your skin. You whimpered, another shiver going down your spine.
He entered in one smooth thrust, the sound of metal hitting skin the only sound in the chamber next to your moans and his pants.
“Fuck-“ you moaned out, the table creaking underneath you. Aemond groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His bit the skin, and with a sharp tug you forced his mouth on yours. He kissed you deeply, sloppily. His tongue slid against yours, and a sharp gasp escaped you when you felt him bite on your tongue.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, fucking into you again and again and again—
“Look at me,” he ordered you, “look at me as I fill you up.” One of his hands moved up your body, a gauntleted hand wrapping around your throat. You whimpered, staring at him with lidded, lust blown-out eyes. His hips snapped hard against yours, the metal digging into your skin again and again and again.
“I’m gonna—I'm gonna-"
He didn't even finish the sentence before he came, his whole body shuddering violently as he buried himself as deep as he could, his fingers digging into your thighs as he came undone inside you. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his heart pounding
You were panting on the table, his seed dripping from your core down onto the wood. His armour had left angry red marks on your soft skin, even a few bruises.
You were a mess. Yet still wanted more.
Aemond pulled back, his own breathing harsh in the quiet room. The sight of you—marked, claimed, utterly ravished, sent a fresh, primal surge of possession through him.
He reached out, his gauntleted fingers surprisingly gentle as they traced the vivid marks on your inner thigh, the stark red against your skin. A low sound rumbled in his chest. “Mine,” he breathed. You nodded obediently.
He leaned down, bracing his armored forearms on the table on either side of you, caging you in again. “You are insatiable,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe and renewed desire. He kissed you, deep and slow. “You take my violence and ask for more.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I shall give you more.”
In one fluid motion, he gathered you up into his arms again, the armor cold against your heated skin.
You purred in delight, arms wrapping around his neck.
He did not take you to the bed. He carried you to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of the chamber. He stood behind you, your back pressed against the cold, hard planes of his chest plate, and forced you to look.
“Aemond..” you started, but he silenced you.
“See,” he commanded, his voice a dark whisper in your ear as he held you before the glass. “See what you do to me. See what I do to you.” His hand, still in its gauntlet, slid possessively over your skin.
His hands moved, tugging all of your clothes away until you were left utterly bare before him. He, again, forced you to look.
Gods, he knew exactly what he was doing. You looked utterly ruined, your powerful husband removing your dress in his stunning, intimidating armour. Sword at his hip, dagger at his other. You mewled softly.
And that soft, helpless sound you made was sweeter to him than any victory cry. He kept you pinned against him, his arm a band of iron across your collarbone, his other hand splayed possessively over your lower stomach. The sword and dagger at his hips pressed cold against your back and thigh.
"You see?" he murmured, his lips against the shell of your ear, his eye locked on your reflection. "The dragon and his treasure." He pressed a kiss to your temple, a shocking tenderness amidst the harshness. "You unmake me. And from the pieces, I become this... for you."
His hand slid lower. "You mewl for me," he observed, the words thick with arrogant satisfaction. “Like a little, helpless kitten."
You shivered when he pressed between your shoulder blades, making you bend over slightly. His other hand kept your face upright; he wanted you to watch. And you couldn’t stop staring.
"Watch," he commanded, his voice a velvet-wrapped blade. "See how you take me. See how you fit me." The first thrust was slow, deliberate, making you gasp and arch back against him. Aemond didn't let up, his other hand sliding around to grip your hip, the metal digging in just enough to leave marks. He watched your face in the mirror, the way your eyes went wide, the way your lips parted, the way you looked so completely taken by him.
"Yeah, that's it," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck as he picked up the pace. He leaned over you, the dragon-etched pauldron brushing your shoulder, his lips against your ear. "You are the only one who sees me," he gasped, the admission torn from him, raw and true. "So watch." And he drove into you, claiming you with a ferocity that was both punishment and devotion, ensuring the image burned itself into your mind forever: your powerful, armored husband fucking you deeply.
“M-my dragon-“ you moaned, and you swore you could see your stomach bulging at his size. It was maddening how turned on you were. “I c-can feel you in m-my stomach--!”
His entire body jerked at the word, his grip tightening on your hips so hard the metal nearly cut the soft skin. A dark, guttural sound tore from his throat, a half moan, as he buried himself even deeper, his large frame shuddering against you.
"Fuck," he choked out, his voice dropping into a rough, broken whisper against your ear. "You say that again. Say it again for me, wife."
He didn't wait for you to answer before he started driving into you with renewed, feral intensity. He wasn't being gentle anymore; he was relentless, his large hands sliding from your hips to press firmly against your stomach, pushing himself as deep as possible.
"Yeah, that's it," he growled, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "Feel me. Feel how much I’m stretching you out, how deeply I fill you." He watched your face in the mirror, his purple eye blown wide with lust, dark and predatory, as he watched your expression crumble under the pleasure.
"You like that? You like how big I feel inside you?" His movements became faster, more desperate, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. He was coming apart at the seams, his control slipping away completely. He buried his face in your hair, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder as he groaned your name like a prayer.
"You are mine," he chanted against your skin, a ragged prayer. "My wife. My queen. My mate." The last word was a primal claim, deeper than any law or vow. His armoured fingers rubbed your clit harshly, the cold and hard feeling of them making you jolt and clench around him.
His body tensed, his muscles corded tight as he came hard, his entire frame shuddering against you as he emptied himself deep inside you.
Slowly, painfully, he pulled out with a wet, squelching sound, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. He didn't move away immediately, instead wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you back against his sweaty chest as he leaned his head down to press a lingering, shaky kiss to your shoulder.
"Fuck," he whispered, his voice wrecked and raw. "You're gonna be the death of me." He let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding down to rest loosely on your hips.
He held you until the last shudder passed through you both. Only then did he gently lift you, cradling your spent form against his armored chest. He carried you to your bed, where he set you down gently, then tucking himself away once more.
You smiled lazily at him cupping his face, tracing his features. “I think you put a dragon inside me today,” you smiled softly. Aemond laughed shakily.
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The servant clothes you were wearing were oddly comfortable. They were thick, warm, and had plenty of layers.
For him to take off.
But not yet.
You forgot whose idea this had been. A mix of both, in the end. But both had been excited for it. And when you had entered your chamber dressed as a maid? He lost it.
You bit your lip demurely, staring down at the stone floor. “Forgive me, your grace,” you breathed out, voice soft, “I did not realise the tea had already grown cold.”
Aemond was staring out of the window, turning slowly only when you finally spoke. “Cold tea..” he repeated nearly with a scoff. “Cold tea is not why you’re here, is it? No…” he slowly crossed the chamber, drawing closer where you were standing in the middle of it. “You are only here because I caught you.”
He stood still right in front of you. “Look at me,” he commanded, making your eyes snap up, looking into his lone one. He saw those familiar eyes, which made this impossibly more arousing to him. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed his smile. “You have been spying on me,” he said quietly, and you felt your toes curl in the ragged boots you were wearing. “Do you truly believe I wouldn't notice if someone was spying on me? A prince?” He leaned even closer to you, and you felt the warmth of his breath. “Or do you perhaps enjoy the danger of it? The risk of being caught… by me?”
A shiver went down your spine.
“Your grace… I would never,” you whispered back, “I was… I was just doing my duties--for the royal family.” You heard yourself stammer, felt the weight of his gaze. He was intimidating. And you loved it.
Aemond just scoffed, standing upright again. “Duty,” he repeated, clearly not believing a second of it. He clasped his hands behind his back, slowly circling around you. “Well,” he started, “tell me more of your… duties. Did they teach you to bring tea that is ice cold? Or did they teach you how to make the prince’s bed, but only after laying in it?”
You felt your cheeks flush.
“Or perhaps,” he finally said, “they teach you what the exact hours of my schedule are… so you know when to find me all alone.” He stood still before you again, clearly waiting for your answer.
“I… well, it can be… dangerous, and…” you spoke, trailing off. Aemond noticed you were struggling to stay in your role, making a slight smile curl his lips. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly what you liked.
“Dangerous…” he said, head tilting, “you believe me to be in danger?”
“I didn’t say that,” you replied, “I meant that I could keep watch and--”
“Spy on me?” He finished your sentence. You pressed your lips together.
“I have been working here for years, your grace, and-”
“And yet you still,” he started, sitting down in his chaise, “have never learned about the rules, and learned to respect your superiors.”
“Superiors?”
“Owners.” he said, looking at you intently.
“I… just came to clean, your grace,” you spoke after a beat of silence, licking your lips. “I wouldn’t dare to intrude, truly-”
"Lies do not become you," he murmured, his voice low. His single eye searched your face, missing nothing; the quickening of your breath, the slight part of your lips. "You did not come to clean… the dust lies thick on the shelf by the door. You came to look." He leaned forwards in the chaise. "So look,” he whispered, “do I frighten you, girl?"
“My prince of course not-“ you spoke. You gasped when Aemond spread his legs, tapping them. You bit your lip.
With slow, unsure movements, you walked closer. You slowly draped yourself over his lap, feeling him ruck the rough skirt up to expose your behind.
“You are bold… for a serving girl,” he spoke softly, dangerously. His hands found the softness of your skin under the skirt, the fabric of the simple gown suddenly feeling like an insult. He traced the warm skin, his hands moving from your thighs, to your soft behind, to the small of your back. He dragged the skirt up, bunching it around your waist. “Consider this a lesson…” he spoke, clearly as affected as you were, “for your… intrusions.”
The first spank made you jolt, a mix of a yelp and a gasp escaping you. His hand stayed on the hot skin, gently squeezing it.
“M-my prince!” You gasped, the sound of your voice sending a hot jolt through him.
“Silence,” he commanded, but his voice was strained. He spanked you again, his hand finding the exact same, now sensitive skin. You whimpered, his bucking. “You will address me properly.” His eye stared into yours, not allowing you to look away. “It is ‘your grace’ for you, maid.”
Another spank.
“You. Will. Learn.” He spoke, spanking the hot skin between every word. You moaned, your eyes lidded, lips parted. His free hand slid upwards to your nape, grabbing the hair tightly, forcing your face to stay right in front of his.
“Oh, gods-“ you whimpered, your back arching. You felt his hand move down every spank, slipping between your legs for a moment, just to tease.
“Aemond-“ you whined, unable to keep up the roleplay. Now, you were his betrothed again, utterly desperate. But he wasn’t having it.
He tugged at your hair, spanking you a final, hard time. “Have you learned nothing?” He hissed, eye boring into yours. “Must I teach you again to address me by my title?”
“Oh, please-” you whispered, and that undid him completely. He lifted you up with ease, carrying you to his bed. Your bed. He kissed you deeply, like a man starved, completely dominating it. This was not a man kissing a servant, this was a man kissing his soon to be wife. It was filled with need, hunger, and love. He stared at you for a moment, his own need mirroring yours.
“You undo me,” he spoke, before saying your own name. He kissed you again, his hand grabbing your jaw, holding you exactly how he liked.
“I’m bad at acting,” you breathed out, earning a soft laugh from Aemond. “I tried, but… I can’t do it. And I do not know how to act like a servant-“
Aemond cut you off with another kiss, finally setting you down on your bed. “Stop talking and spread your legs,” he commanded, your eyes widening. And then you obeyed. He dragged the rough fabric up your legs, revealing your skin inch by inch. The stockings you were wearing halted at the top of your thighs, and when he pulled the fabric up the last inches, he was rewarded with the sight of your soft pink cotton undergarments. You knew just by his expression he was about to comment on them, so you bucked your hips up, his knuckles grazing the heat.
“More..” you whispered.
“More?” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. He pinned both of your hands above your head, his other hand tracing a slow path from your stocking-clad thighs upwards. “I will give you more,” he murmured, “and you… will give me every gasp, every moan… they will be mine.” He dipped his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your throat. His fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric, and he relished in the moan that escaped you. His teeth grazed your soft skin, making your hands struggle against his restraints. You heard him chuckling softly. “So needy…” he murmured, “I wonder who got you so pent up?”
You couldn't even reply, moaning when he slipped a finger inside of you. “Let’s keep these cute panties on, hm?” He murmured against your lips, swallowing your needy gasps. His finger moved in and out of you, slipping a second one in quickly, almost impatiently. “So wet, sweetheart…” he murmured, curling them inside of your heat.
You could barely kiss him back, tongue sliding against his, eyes rolling back into your head. His hand tightened on your restrained wrists, and you could only moan and buck your hips, fucking his fingers deeper.
“Needy, needy…” he murmured more to himself, sliding his fingers out of you. “Be a good girl and clean me up?”
He held his soaked digits in front of your lips, smearing some of your slick on your bottom lip. “As a reward I’ll let you suck my cock..”
The sound you made was anything but composed. Your lips parted, and he slid his fingers in. You sucked on them, cheeks hollowing, moaning around them. You tasted yourself, and also that familiar taste he always had.
He watched you intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Greedy girl,” he murmured, “my greedy girl.”
He pulled them out, placing his hand on your throat before kissing you deeply. He tasted you on your tongue, and he wanted more, needed more. He let your wrists go, quickly working to undo his breeches. You slid onto the floor, feeling the rug under your knees.
“There you are,” he breathed out, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to suck your prince’s cock.”
You nodded eagerly, whining softly. “Yes-“ you whimpered. “Want so badly—“
He hummed, tapping your chin. “Show me,” he murmured, watching as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. Just as he’d taught you. “Good girl..” he purred again, slapping the tip twice on your tongue. “Suck.”
He tried to be gentle, truly, but the way you were staring at him, eyes looking up at him, he couldn’t help himself. He bucked his hips forward, and you took as much of him as you could into your mouth. He tasted salty, tangy, utterly him. You hummed around him, using your free hand to stroke the rest of him.
“Ah, fuck…” he groaned, watching you work him. You looked so pretty sucking his cock. He placed his hand on your head, urging you to take him deeper, to take more. You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Good girl,” he panted, “good girl.”
He sucked in a breath when your other free hand went to his balls, rolling them between your fingers.
“Fuck, get off-“ he panted, and you released him with a pop, drool running down your chin. He grabbed your jaw, staring at your dazed expression. “Look at you..” he muttered, nearly laughing, “so fucking needy.”
You squeezed his thighs, earning another hiss. But he understood your meaning. He helped you back up, pulling you in for another deep kiss. “My pretty girl,” he breathed between kisses. “My perfect little cocksucker.”
“Aemond-“ you whimpered, and within seconds he had removed the ridiculous servant’s dress from your figure.
“No more of that,” he breathed out, his hands finding your warm, bare breasts. “Only the most expensive silks… and diamonds, and…”
You kissed him, hands tangling in his hair. “Fuck me-“ you begged, “fuck my pussy, please, please—“
He let out a shaky breath, pressing you back into the pillows. “Such wanton words, darling,” he teased, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. You gasped, arching your back. His teeth grazed the soft bud, earning another deep moan from you. “Oh, gods-!” You gasped out, tugging at his white hair.
“Those aren’t words of a princess, are they?” You could hear his smile in his words, the teasing sound of them. “Well, you’re not a princes… yet. A fortnight left…”
The thought alone made you whimper. Two weeks left until your wedding. And you would be a Targaryen. You would be his.
“You talk a lot suddenly-“ you breathed out, teasing him back. “The stoic prince has found his tongue.”
He just rumbled out a laugh, biting on the skin connecting your neck and shoulder. “Shut up,” he hummed, earning a small laugh from you. He spread your thighs wide open, claiming your lips in another deep kiss.
“Fine,” he murmured, "I will be quiet-”
And in one smooth motion, he pressed himself inside. You let out a surprised moan, the feeling of him stretching you wide open making you hiss. “Holy shit-” you gasped, earning another fond chuckle.
“What?” he replied, "isn't this what you were begging for?”
He set a hard pace, pulling out until only his tip remained, before fucking hard back into you. His hands were on your thighs, holding them spread open, his eye locked onto the sight of his cock moving in and out of your pussy.
“Look how much she’s gripping me…” he nearly cooed, making you clench around him. “Prettiest pussy.” He slid his fingers through the thatch of curls above your mound, before pressing hard against your clit. “So fucking tight-” he groaned, and you could only moan in return.
“Aemond-” you gasped his name, your nails digging into his back. He groaned softly, dropping his face in the crook of your neck. You felt too good around him, and his hips stuttered a few times.
“Please..” he murmured barely audible, his fingers rubbing harshly over your clit, “please cum, please, please, please-”
You had never heard him beg before, and the sound of it combined with his fingers and cock pushed you over the edge.
“Gods--fuck!” you gasped, back arching, toes curling. You heard him groan your name, his hips pressing against yours, filling you to the brim as he came. You felt his release inside of you, making your eyes roll back.
He fell on top of you, breathing heavily. But he didn’t let you go. Not for a second.
After a moment he came back alive, pressing kisses along your jaw, throat, before finding your lips.
“My maid..” he mumbled, earning a playful slap from you.
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