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huramuna · 9 months ago

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a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

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word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.”

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!”

“Dwacawuys!”

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?”

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress.

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?”

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop.

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?”

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.”

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger.

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here.

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself.

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.”

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date.

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything.

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down.

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand.

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed.

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor.

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer–

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!”

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved.

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air.

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling.

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but…

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever.

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?”

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…”

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?”

“All very good.”

“... Helaena?”

“Yes, brother?”

“Why are you here?”

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.”

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!”

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?”

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.”

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked.

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.”

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.”

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?”

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?”

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.”

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye.

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie.

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the maid's folly #aemond x servant

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belbel19 · 9 months ago

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AND HISTORIANS WILL CALL THEM!!!!

I too, look at my bestie like they are the light of my life, my most tresured possession, and as if i would die if i looked away...

the pendragon's specifically are down bad (very obviously)

while merlin and gwen are more oblivious and dont seem to realise they are pining AND that its also required

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saintshigaraki · 5 months ago

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prince sae x maid reader icky nasty power dynamics and also he’s a dick.

#fang talking about prince rin….immediately hit with prince sae x maid reader #noncon on the mind #yandere tw #noncon tw

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thehusbandoden · 10 months ago

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Thank you so much for all of your support! I can't believe I'm 15 followers away from 500! You are all so sweet and I appreciate and love every single one of you!

On a side note, I have a Bakugo x reader royal AU fic started. I'm planning on making it shorter than my horrendous other fics I've started, so I'm hoping it will be out when I hit 500 or shortly after.

For a bit of context, it will be enemies to lovers. You're Bakugo's maid whom he despises because he "doesn't need a nanny". Right now he's a total a-hole.

I'm guessing there will be 10-15ish chapters, but I'm not sure! If you would like to be tagged in it you can either leave a comment (anywhere, I look at all my comments), send me a message, or an ask.

If you'd like any updates/sneak peaks just let me know!

Once again thank you so much for all of your support and love, I truly do appreciate it!

Have a lovely day/night! <333

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save-the-villainous-cat · 11 months ago

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SUPER FLIRTY prince x FLUSTERED maid but make it really suggestive!! u can change the genders or prns if you want

His laugh was soft but died when she put a finger on the swollen flesh on his back. He couldn't hold back the moan and neither the curse.

"You know, Your Royal Highness, you would spare us all from sorrows if you weren't this reckless," she said and he buried his head in the pillows. Admittedly, he had been a fool. He had been told several times that he was good at hunting and riding. It was one of the few royal activities he actually enjoyed.

He had gotten cocky. Earlier today, once he had made sure that his maid was watching, he had tried to look especially heroic during the hunt.

In the end, too drunk on the thought of making her blush, he had fallen off his horse and landed on the hard stones of a shallow stream. She had been the one to save him from drowning in knee-deep water. She had been the one to find and calm down his horse an hour later. She was the one who was observing his wound now.

His face burnt.

"Where would be the fun in that?" he asked.

"The fun would include you being alive."

"Aw, you care about me." She let her finger touch his red skin again and he hissed, squeezing the pillow hard. He was glad his face was pressed against it. He was embarrassed for his dumb decision. But at least, her fingers were on his back and even though it hurt, he loved to feel her kindness.

"I care about the heir of my kingdom."

"Ouch." The next time her fingers were on his back, he flinched. The salve she had mixed together was colder than last time. But he was quiet this time. Her fingers went over his back, over his shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this safe. Probably when she had stitched a wound on his leg a month ago.

Although, he had to admit, that had been much more stressful with her face close to his crotch.

"Are you not going to make any comments?" she asked and he could hear the smile when she spoke.

"Don't tell me you actually like it when I do that?"

"I am just wondering why you're being so quiet today," she said. Her fingers travelled down his back and his eyes widened involuntarily.

"I am thinking about your fingers. And where I would love to feel them," he said. He loved to make her blush but today, for whatever reason, he was the one who couldn't get rid of his hot face. She stopped going down his spine and he lifted his head. "Why did you stop?"

He caught a glimpse of her face. She worried her lips between her teeth.

"Oh, I...apologies. I was not-"

"I am starting to think that you enjoy touching me as much as I do."

She giggled nervously. "Well, I..."

"And I also think that you're searching for excuses to do so sometimes." She looked as if he had caught her in the middle of stealing something. He could only smile.

"Lay next to me?" he suggested and she didn't even hesitate to join him in bed. He made enough room for her but somehow when both of them shifted, he ended up on top of her. He looked down at her pretty lashes. His back still hurt but in a good way. "I like you."

Her hand found his biceps and he swore he saw the stars.

"You have got to be more careful," she said. "I feel like you do these things on purpose so I nurse you back to health."

"Well, what do you expect from me? When you have such gentle hands?" He lowered his voice. "When I would give away the throne to a total stranger, just to hear your laugh one more time?"

"Your Royal Highness, I..." Her eyes dropped to his lips.

"Every wound feels sweet when you're the one taking care of it, I fail to put into words what you mean to me." His heart was drumming in his chest and he was overwhelmed by the feeling of her hands on his biceps travelling up to his shoulders. He wanted to build churches dedicated to her with his bare hands. "You have always been more than a maid, more than a friend."

"You're not supposed to say these things out loud," she said but her hands found his face.

"I refuse to whisper them." And with that, she pulled him down gently and kissed him over and over again until he asked himself who was the royal and who was the servant here.

#g-g-g-g-gender #dont u just love it when your boy tries to impress u I do I do hihihi #writing snippet #request #an answer for an ask #kingdoms and royalty #m/f #princexmaid #prince x maid #maid x prince #maidxprince

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strnilolover · 11 days ago

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Masquerade Ball …

(this is in second person <3)

The palace was alive with excitement on the night of the masquerade ball. Nobles from neighboring countries, prestigious guests, and even members of the royal family’s inner circle had come to celebrate under the grand chandeliers and golden arches of the ballroom. As the evening approached, the palace was bustling with preparations, every servant and maid in a frenzy to ensure every detail was perfect.

In Matt’s bedroom, you were carefully fastening his collar, adjusting the dark, elegant fabric of his suit. Your fingers worked delicately, your heart racing slightly as you stood so close to him, feeling the warmth of his presence.

“Thank you,” Matt murmured, his gaze fixed on you with that soft intensity you’d come to know well. His mask lay on the table, a sleek design in dark hues that matched his attire, leaving his eyes just visible beneath it.

You glanced up at him, managing a shy smile. “Is there anything else you need matt?” you asked, your hands dropping from his collar to rest at your sides.

He shook his head, smiling faintly — but he quickly changed his mind. “Actually, yes. I have a surprise for you.” His voice was warm, teasing, with a glimmer of excitement that caught you off guard.

You raised an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “A surprise?” you whispered. He nodded, gesturing toward the adjoining door that led to his private bathroom. “In there. Go on.”

You looked at matt for a moment before turning your gaze back to the bathroom door. You took a hesitant step forward, but then fully walked forward. You hand grabbed the handle, turning it before pushing the door open.

When Matt told you to check the bathroom for a surprise, you hadn’t expected anything close to this. You held your breath as you entered his bathroom and found a gown — a stunning dress in purple and gold, shimmering with delicate jewels that caught the light. There was a matching mask, adorned with lace and gems, lying beside was a handwritten note — in no other than matt’s handwriting himself.

Wear this tonight. For me. Join me at the ball.

Your heart raced, disbelief mixed with a thrill that made your hands tremble as you picked up the gown. You whispered to herself, “This is risky. This is more than risky. What will everyone think?”

Up until now, your relationship with Matt had been limited to hidden glances and whispered words, secret meetings and moments stolen in the quiet corridors of the palace. But this? Going to the masquerade ball, dressed up as a guest? It was a bold step, and it made you nervous.

Even though your face would be covered — that no one would know it was you, made it more exciting. But you couldn’t help the way your skin pricked with uncertainty — what if someone did recognize you? you weren’t supposed to be seen with the prince in that way.

But Matt had asked you to be there. He had thought of you, arranged this beautiful gown just for you, and left you a note as if you were the most important person in his world. You’d always watched the masquerade balls from the sidelines, helping set the table or serving drinks to the guests, never imagining you could be one of them. The idea was exhilarating.

You slipped into the gown, your hands smoothing the fabric as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It felt strange, being on the other side of things — dressed up as someone who belonged at the ball, as though you weren’t just a maid but an equal. The mask settled snugly over your face, hiding your identity just enough that it gave you a small rush of confidence.

“Just for tonight,” you whispered to yourself, smoothing your skirt. “I’ll be someone else.”

When you entered the ballroom, your breath caught. The chandeliers sparkled above, casting a golden glow over the crowd of masked guests twirling on the dance floor. You’d never seen it from this perspective, never felt the music sweep your away as a guest rather than a servant. It was magical, and though you knew the risk, a part of you relished the chance to feel like you belonged here, if only for a night.

Almost instinctively, your eyes scanned the room, searching for him. You felt like an imposter, someone pretending to be part of this world, apart of matt’s world that you didn’t know how to really fit into well. But, you felt as if maybe seeing matt might make you feel better.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a long moment. There were lots of people — ladies dressed in beautiful gowns and men dressed in sleek outfits and ties. But then, through the crowd, you spotted him.

He was talking with a group of nobles, his mask obscuring part of his face but leaving his intense gaze visible, a gaze that lifted and locked on you the moment you saw him. His eyes widened briefly, his lips curving into a faint smile. In that instant, you knew he’d been waiting for you.

Unable to help yourself, you moved through the crowd toward him. His own feet carrying himself to meet you halfway, his eyes never leaving yours as he took your hand, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“You came,” he murmured, his voice soft with amazement, his gaze sweeping over you. “And you look… absolutely stunning darling.” he held your hand up, encouraging you to spin — and you did, giggling slightly.

You smiled when you came to a stop, you cheeks warming beneath the mask. “I… I wasn’t sure if I should. I mean, I’m not…” you trailed off, glancing around nervously. “I’m not supposed to be here, not like this.”

He squeezed your hand gently, pulling you closer, his expression soft. “Tonight, you belong here just as much as anyone else,” he murmured. “And I wanted you to see yourself this way. You’re not just my maid. You’re so much more.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe I’m here, dressed up, actually… part of the ball. I’ve only ever seen it from the other side, watching everyone else have this life.” you admitted.

He smiled, leaning close as his voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “Well, tonight, I want to watch you enjoy it. I want you to see yourself as I see you.” and he pulled back, grinning — his blue eyes stood out under his mask, it made you breathless.

Before you could respond, he took your hand, guiding you onto the dance floor. The music swelled around you as he pulled you close, his hand firm at your waist, his eyes never leaving your own. You felt your worries start to melt away as you moved together, and for the first time, you let herself sink into the moment, letting yourself feel as though you belonged there in his arms — among all these people.

You danced until your heart was pounding, your cheeks warm with exhilaration, every touch and every glance between you two felt suffocating and filled with an unspoken longing. When the music slowed, matt leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

He took your hand, quickly leading you off the dance floor and down a quiet corridor away from the crowd. Your heart raced, anticipation tingling through you as he pulled you into a dimly lit corner, where the sounds of the ball faded into the background.

You were alone, hidden in the shadows, and he turned to face you, his eyes dark and intense as he took both of your hands in his. “You have no idea how stunning you look darling — how hard it was to not let myself get carried away in there..” he whispered.

Your breath caught, and you felt a nervous thrill as you looked up at him, your own voice a whisper. “It felt strange… being here like this. Like I was part of your world, even though I’m not.”

He shook his head, reaching up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You are part of my world,” he said softly. “You’re the part that makes it feel like home.”

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours before meeting you in a kiss that was soft but filled with a quiet urgency. You melted into him, your hands resting against his chest as his unoccupied hand rested against your hip — pushing you up against the wall. The kiss was sweet but urgent — quickly turning heated, but it didn’t get too far.

When you finally pulled apart — your breath coming in short pants, he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “I want more nights like this,” he murmured, his voice a gentle plea. “I don’t want to have to hide it. I want you by my side, every day, just like this.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining, voice barely a whisper. “Then let’s have tonight. Just this moment.”

He smiled, brushing another kiss to your lips, and for the rest of the night, you decided to stay hidden in the shadows — forgetting all about the ball and matt’s duties as prince. Letting yourselves believe that, for just a little while, you could have a life together, free from rules and expectations.

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

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Not a queen (8.5)

Summary: You are no one. What if fate makes you queen?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Maid!Reader x Nick (Fowler) Barnes

Warnings: dystopian world, modern royal au, shy reader, arranged marriage, implied smut, fluff, cuddling, a little time jump (4 months)

A/N: Another shorter chapter. I wanted to cut out this scene and make a bigger time jump. I decided against it. So were are getting chapter 8.5.

This series takes place in the Two kings universe, at the same time. I recommend reading this story first to understand this universe better.

You can find all arcs here: Of Kings and Queens Arcs

<;< Part 8

Not a queen (Arc 2) masterlist

That night, they told you…everything. About the revolution, the second sons are planning. They also told you that Nick, Bucky, and their friends want to change the world.

Bucky told you that once everything is prepared, war will shake the world you know.

You don’t know if that’s a good thing. People will die. And if they lose the fight, you will mourn Bucky and Nick too.

If this happens, you don’t know if you will survive. Losing your family was painful. But losing the men you fell in love with, will shatter you.

They revealed the truth and their plans four months ago. In the meantime, so much happened. You got closer to both men. Very close.

It started with soft kisses, and little touches and lead to so much more. Lingering touches, passionate make-out sessions, and love confessions.

Until your wedding night arrived and you ended up between the brothers.

At first, you shied away. Afraid they will hurt you or do something you don’t want.

Nick took away all of your fears. He fulfilled his promise and went down on you. Finally putting his mouth to better use than calling you mouse. When you trembled, his mouth on your leaking cunt you chanted their names.

Bucky let his brother have this. He let him touch you first to make sure Nick knows, they are equals in this relationship.

After that night, you never want to leave the secret chamber again. If it was up to you, you’d spend your days hiding in the room, wrapped up in your men.

If only you’d have the choice to decide on the world’s fate.

“Mouse, what are you thinking about?” Nick wraps his arms around you from behind. He pecks your neck, humming as you lean in his touch. “What is my beautiful wife up to today?”

“Our beautiful wife,” Bucky corrects. He smirks, but a hint of jealousy flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away. The prince learned to share your love and attention over the last months. It was hard for him to accept that you are in love with his brother too. “So, what are we going to do today, doll.”

“I want to sit on the bed and read another book. It’s getting chilly and maybe, you can keep me warm while I read my book,” you glance at Bucky. “Only if you got time, of course.”

“Our friends left in the dead of the night again,” Bucky pecks your cheek. “We got all the time in the world. I like your idea.”

“I like it too,” Nick nuzzles his face in your neck. “Maybe there is time to cuddle in between reading books.”

You chuckle. Nick has something more than reading in mind. He can barely keep his hands to himself. The prince always needs to kiss, hug, or nuzzle you.

Bucky loves to touch you too. But Nick is the needier man in your life. Maybe it’s because he always came second. Or that he fears losing you to his brother if he doesn’t shower you with affection all the time.

“We can cuddle too,” you whisper, making Nick groan. ”Cuddle, my prince. I didn’t feel well this morning.”

“You didn’t feel well? Why didn’t you tell us so?” Bucky immediately looks you up and down. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “No fever. Good. That’s good. Uh-did you cough, sneeze, vomit?”

“Bucky,” you scrunch up your nose, “don’t ask things like that. I was just a little dizzy and…uh…I had to vomit a little. I’m fine now, though. I drank some tea and ate toast.”

“A stomach bug, maybe?” Nick looks at his brother for help. “She should lie down and have a rest.”

Bucky nods. His eyes drop to your middle and he wonders if his dream came already true…

>> Part 9

Not a queen

@somewereinthegalaxi

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

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#nick fowler #bucky barnes #royal au #prince!nick fowler #prince!Bucky barnes #maid reader #bucky barnes x reader #nick fowler x reader #Not a queen (8.5)

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romancemedia · 2 years ago

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Disney Couples + Protective Embrace

#The Little Mermaid #Aladdin The Series #The Princess and the Frog #Tangled The Series #Robin Hood #Pocahontas #Cinderella 3 A Twist in Time #Mulan 2 #Disney #Moments #Ariel x Eric #Aladdin x Jasmine #Tiana x Naveen #Rapunzel x Eugene #Robin Hood x Maid Marian #Mulan x Shang #Pocahontas x John Smith #Cinderella x Prince Charming

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

Text

Consequences | Two

Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex

Series Masterlist

Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.

But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.

In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.

That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.

She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.

The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.

In that way they are like children.

She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.

It was doubtful.

Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.

It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.

Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.

The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.

She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.

“What is it?”

“Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.

The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.

The letter read:

Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.

The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.

“Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.

Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.

Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.

And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back

Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.

“My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.

He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.

“Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.

Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.

Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.

Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.

He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.

It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.

“...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”

Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.

He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He’d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.

“Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.

She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”

Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?

“I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”

She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.

Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.

“Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”

She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.

He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”

“A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”

But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.

She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.

“Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.

“Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”

She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.

Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.

Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.

Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.

He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.

All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.

It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.

There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.

“I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”

Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.

The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.

“You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”

Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”

The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”

“You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”

Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”

“Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,

Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.

“Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”

Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”

“Exactly” Freiya responds,

“What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.

Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”

For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.

“When are they to arrive?”

“Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.

For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.

With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.

If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.

She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.

She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.

“Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.

She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.

“My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”

She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”

When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.

“What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.

“My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.

His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.

“You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.

At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?

“Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.

“With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”

She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.

Only a woman who would want it, she thought.

“But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.

Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.

He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.

“Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.

She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.

When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.

“I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”

There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.

“Well?”

The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone

“Look at me”

With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw, fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.

“Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.

“Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.

If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.

“I think you did, sweet girl”

Did I?

He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.

He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.

“Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.

“Yes, your grace” she whispered back,

“Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”

He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.

“Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”

She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.

If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.

“Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.

“What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.

“Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”

He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.

He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.

“Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.

Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.

But it wasn’t enough.

His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.

He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.

Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.

“I want to hear you when I make you peak”

Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.

She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.

Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.

Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.

It would hurt. It would be painful.

And it was this that excited him the most.

As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.

He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.

“Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”

He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.

“That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.

Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.

Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.

“Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.

Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.

He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.

She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.

Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…

…it frightened her.

Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.

In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.

And she…

…She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.

History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.

Forgotten. Replaceable.

Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.

“Leave” he orders flatly.

She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.

It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.

Am I his maidservant, or his whore.

Maidservant.

Whore.

The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.

She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,

“Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,

“I am just tired, please Hedi I-”

Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.

“Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.

“Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.

Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.

“Whore”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties

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