fish189

[fish189]

hello, are there any rules regarding request?❤️

hmm i mean no weird stuff/fetishes/gore/hard kinks, and you can always request but i kinda see it as an idea box/suggestions box that i may or may not write xx

[fish189]

i enjoyed ur recent fics a lot but we need a Helaena one ❤️‍🔥

i wont let you down lesbians

[fish189]

THANK YOU SO MUCH THE FIC WAS SO CUTE!!!!!!

yay im so glad you liked it!!!!!!! <333

[fish189]

Envy

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Lady!Reader

Summary: based on this request!: The other day i had a dream where the reader and aemond are not betrothed to eachother but they are kinda flirting because the reader likes reading just like aemond.

Then one day a lannister princess comes into court and aemond starts paying more attention to her because she is pretty so the reader gets jealous.

Note: thank you for the request anon muah

1.5K

----------

For Aegon’s nameday, the crown was holding a grand hunt. Every house that had some power was invited, meaning yours was as well. You thought it was quite ironic that they were holding a hunt--prince Aegon enjoying wine and women far more than hunting animals--but you kept that thought to yourself. Because this also meant you got to see prince Aemond again. 

The second son of the king, and the object of your dreams and desires. He was smart, and strong and surprisingly funny as well. Over the past few years you started growing closer, bonding over the love both of you had for books. 

You were excited to see him again. He had lent you one of his favourite history books last time you were at the Red Keep, and you had finished it quickly. You were excited to talk to him about it, to go over the book and share insights together. 

Your carriage arrived at the grand gates of the Keep, coming to a smooth halt. Your house’s banner was full on display, and you had even worn your best gown. A knight helped you step out of the carriage, ready to enter and greet the royal family. But there was one small hiccup in your mental perfect entrance. 

House Lannister was right before you.

You could see their obnoxiously large banners, their use of gold thread that formed the lion on it even more dislikable. You took a deep breath, withholding yourself from rolling your eyes. Did anyone truly like the Lannisters? Or just their coin? You presumed the latter. 

You waited patiently with your parents, watching the royal family kindly greet the lions and thank them for coming. Aegon already seemed out of it, Helaena not even present. You couldn’t blame her, not really. You knew how tiring these events were, and she truly didn’t like being around people.

Aemond, however, was always well prepared. He was the picture of a graceful host, greeting everyone kindly, showing respect and saying just enough to flatter. You eyed the Lannisters, wondering who had come to the hunt. Lady Ceira, Lord Tyland and Jason, and… you felt your stomach drop. Lady Lycella. 

She was gorgeous, with her long blonde hair and her bright green eyes. She was wearing a red gown--a bold choice--but it suited her well. She bowed politely before the royal family, the picture of demurity. Though you couldn’t see her face, you just knew what look she had in her eye. She was known for being spoiled, getting everything her heart desired and more. And judging by the fact Aegon was already wed to Helaena, she was there for one reason.

She wanted to catch the other prince’s eye.

Of course she did. She probably didn’t even like Aemond, she just wanted to be a princess. A scowl had formed on your face, and if your mother didn’t squeeze your arm, you would’ve walked towards the royal family with a grimace.

You forced a smile onto your face, bowing and greeting the family politely. You glanced at Aemond for a split second, but he was watching your father who was talking to the queen.

There went your perfect entrance. 

Only around the evening, when a grand dinner was being held for all of the families visiting, did you have some time to go to Aemond. You found him alone, watching the drunkards with disdain. 

“Having an early start?” you asked him. Normally you watched the drunk lords together, complaining about their lack of manners while smiling together. Aemond’s eye met yours, a familiar sparkle in them. 

“My lady,” he greeted, allowing you to sit by his side. “I suppose I did. It seems lord Blackwood especially is having a great time…”

You were about to reply, when a cloud of red suddenly appeared in front of you. 

“Prince Aemond,” Lycella Lannister’s voice sounded, her tone making you wanna gag. “How lovely it is to see you this eve. How are you faring?”

You were expecting Aemond to see right through her, and especially not to be affected by her looks. He was smarter than that--he had always prided himself in looking at a person’s character rather than their looks. But you were wrong.

“Good evening, Lady Lycella,” he stood up as he greeted her, kissing her knuckles, “I am well. Please, have a seat.”

You nearly watched in disbelief when you saw him… flirt back? Was he flirting? Maybe he was just being nice, and… and playing the gracious host, and…

Lady Lycella however blossomed even more under Aemond’s attention. She took a seat beside him, sitting far too close for propriety. “I must say, your grace,” the woman said, “you look very handsome tonight. A true Targaryen prince.”

You wanted to gag again, listening to her complimenting Aemond as if he were some harlot. But Aemond just smiled, thanking her. “Your gown is most lovely, Lady Lycella,” Aemond replied, which made her bat her eyelashes at him.

You cleared your throat.

“Prince Aemond…?” you said softly, making him look back at you for a moment. You never really used his title, but for some reason, you felt the need to at this moment. “I believe we were having a conversation before… Lady Lycella came over.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose we were,” he just replied, looking back at Lycella. “We were just talking about the bustling activities,” Aemond said to the Lannister, somehow having the conversation he was having with you, with her instead. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You left.

You didn’t even say anything, just standing up and fleeing the bustling hall. Aemond's head turned, his eye widening slightly in surprise at your sudden departure. But you couldn’t stay and third wheel a conversation, especially not with a person as dumb as lady Lycella.

Your heart felt oddly heavy as you walked, feeling a sense of disappointment you could not quite name. You and Aemond had always shared a certain understanding. A friendship formed by their shared disdain for shallow and self-important people.

Yet there he was, swooning over a woman who was exactly that. Shallow, and spoiled, and dumb-

You sighed deeply as you climbed the stairs. You didn’t want to be bitter about the situation, didn’t want to be a jealous person. Yet here you were, walking back to your assigned bedchamber, feeling worse than you had in a very long time. 

Over the course of the next two days, you barely even saw Aemond. The few times you did see him, he seemed to be in a conversation with the female Lannister. She was always giggling, it seemed, talking with the prince about Gods know what. And all you could do was watch. 

On the third evening, you simply decided to return the book to Aemond, and then go to bed. You knocked twice on the door of his study, seeing light pouring out from underneath the door. But there was no answer.

You knocked again, growing a bit impatient. Was he ignoring you? Even now? 

“Aemond?” you said, but still no movement. You sighed deeply, deciding to just leave the book in front of the door. And then it cracked open.

“It’s you,” he whispered, grabbing your arm and dragging you inside. He closed the door behind him, listening for someone else.

Your brows furrowed. “What on earth are you doing?” you hissed, confused by his awfully weird behaviour.

“I thought you were her,” he whispered.

“Her? Who is her?”

“Lycella,” he breathed out, walking back over to his desk. “She won’t leave me alone. I must admit, at first it was charming to have such a pretty lady by my side, but…”

You rolled your eyes at his words.

“She is so… so… stupid.”

You looked up at his words. “...that is not a kind thing to say,” you murmured softly, though inside, you were ecstatic.

“She barely reads, doesn’t write, and she barely knows anything about history. She didn't even know what philosophy meant. She thought I made the word up!”

You looked back at the ground, a small smile forming on your lips. “Well, I suppose you cannot have everything…”

Aemond paused, sighing deeply. “I suppose not. I feel… foolish. For wasting my time with her when I-”

He finally looked at you for a moment, noticing you were holding his book in his hands. 

“Ah, you brought my book back,” he murmured. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” you replied, holding it out for him. 

His gaze lingered on your face, taking in your delicate features. In that moment, he realized how much he had missed your quiet companionship, your sharp wit and thoughtful insights. Lycella's empty-headed giggles suddenly seemed even more exhausting in comparison.

He accepted the book from you, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“I am glad you did,” he breathed out. And then, after a second of silence, he spoke again. “I am sorry for… how I handled things.”

His gaze drifted back to your face, taking in the way the candlelight danced in your eyes. Suddenly, the weight of the past few days lifted from his shoulders. The constant presence of Lycella, her empty-headed gossip... it all paled in comparison to the quiet comfort he found in your company.

“Aemond?” you asked softly, noticing how he had gone silent, “are you alright?”

He smiled softly, grabbing your hand. “I have never been better, my lady.”

[fish189]

Hello! Absolutely loved your painter story.. would love a part two!! ❤️❤️❤️

thank u sooo much i might make one!!!!!!! <333

[fish189]

painter

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Painter!Reader

Summary: you are a royal painter, and Alicent wants Aemond to get his painting made after so long. But Aemond finds out you have a secret as an artist.

Notes: MDNI, kissing, teasing, arguing, tension, dirty sketches, pussy eating, handjob, almost getting caught

7.4K

NOT proofread

might make a part 2 might not idk

----------

A royal painting. It was a staple for the royal family, a way to show off their wealth and a way to brag about their children. And finally, it was Aemond’s turn. 

His last painting had been before his eye was carved out. Ever since then, he didn’t want to get painted. He didn’t want the world to see his disfigurement, didn’t want to see it come to life. It would feel too real, too close. But there was no way out of it this time.

He had woken up with a heavy feeling in his stomach, his head already pounding. His outfit had already been prepared and was hanging by his closet, almost laughing at his upcoming fate.

His mother had a new eyepatch made for him, for this ‘special occasion’, she’d said. The new leather had felt too rough against his skin when he tried it on, his old eyepatch already worn and soft. It had only added to his discomfort, and therefore added to the feeling of being mocked. His brother already had his made, and even though his brother was a drunk and probably indulged far too much, he looked like a proper prince in his painting. 

But Aegon didn’t have half of his face carved out.

Aemond finally sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. Today the painter would probably need him for a couple of hours, the person sketching out his body and whatever lush surrounding his mother had picked to be around him. Aegon’s painting was of him standing close to a Targaryen banner, the rich fabric draped behind him. Aemond knew he would probably get something similar, maybe instead of a red banner it would be black, leaning into his entire ‘scary one-eyed prince’ facade he had gotten from the people. 

The night before he had ordered his servants not to bother him in the morning, needing some time to himself to prepare for the upcoming humiliation ritual. He had tried to talk his mother out of it, but she had insisted.

He stood up, walking over to his closet where his outfit was prepared. A black leather tunic, engraved with dragons on both sides. Just regular black breeches and boots, and of course his sword belt. He had, surprisingly, cleaned his sword the night before. If they wanted a polished painting, he would at least know his weapons were in order. And in a strange way, he felt comforted by that.

He took his time getting dressed, fumbling a bit with the buttons on his tunic. And for the first time in a while, he looked into the mirror to put his new eyepatch on. And he hated looking in the mirror. 

The new leather was digging into his skin, and felt far too tight around his head as well. He looked at his usual eyepatch, seeing it resting on his desk. He was tempted to put it on, but he knew his mother would look him over before the painter would start his work. 

Instead, he put it in his pocket, and exited his bedchamber.

He wore his usual impassive expression on his face when he entered the grand hall where his mother was already having her breakfast. She smiled when she saw him, standing up.

“Aemond,” Alicent breathed out, urging him closer. And as he expected, she took in his new tunic and the new leather that covered his missing eye. “How are you feeling? You look every inch the prince, my dear,” she said softly, though her words didn’t make a smile appear on his face. “It’s uncomfortable,” he said quietly, Alicent sighing. “It is just for the painting,” she murmured, cupping his face. “And you know it gets more comfortable as you wear it longer…”

Aemond pulled away from her, taking a seat at the table. He didn’t feel like talking any longer.

----------

After breakfast, Aemond was walking along with his mother towards his doom--the painter. They had chosen an empty chamber, Alicent explaining her ideas a bit to him. But he wasn't listening, not really. He was imagining his upcoming days, stuck in a dusty chamber with probably an old man who would try to hold a conversation with him. He would probably ask him about how he spends his days and--heavens be good--he would ask about Aemond’s scar.

“Here we are,” Alicent said, entering a room. Aemond just sighed, taking a deep breath before entering. 

He had been right. The chamber was dusty, a black Targaryen banner was hanging and a random stool with props was set before it. He looked up at the painter, and froze.

Alicent saw his reaction, and she walked over to him, her voice low and quiet. 

“She is the best painter,” she murmured to him, “I know it might be… unorthodox to have a female painter, but… I only wish for the best paintings. And hers stood out.”

Alicent took a step back, returning back to where the painter was. Aemond could only stare, though to you, it read as a very threatening look. You cleared your throat awkwardly, bowing before him. 

“Prince Aemond…” you started carefully. You introduced yourself, noticing that you stumbled a bit over your words. You had heard about the prince, of course, of rumours and horror stories. And seeing him now, glaring at you, it did little to ease your nerves. 

Alicent moved Aemond towards where the banner was, posing his body as if her was a mannequin. 

“A woman,” Aemond finally hissed lowly to his mother, looking at the way you were gathering your supplies. “I am being painted by a woman?”

“Be quiet,” Alicent hissed, making him hold a hand on his waist. “I will not tolerate disrespect.”

“Being painted by a woman is disrespect,” he retorted, his eye hardened. “I am a prince of the realm, so surely I deserve more than a low, female painter.”

Alicent stared back at him, her posture relaxed yet her gaze hard. 

“Aegon’s painting was made by her, as well,” she told him, “and unless you were lying when you praised the painter…” she trailed off, Aemond’s eye simply narrowing at her.

“I will pose, and have my painting made,” he finally said, “I do not see any reason te be kind.”

“Princes are civil,” Alicent replied.

“Not one-eyes ones.”

She fell silent at that, hating the way he spat out his crude alias. “She is kind,” she finally said softly. “If you do not wish to talk, then don’t.” She touched his shoulder, seeing him sigh in defeat. “Do it for me. I shall be most happy with a painting of my smart son.”

Aemond shook her off, casting his gaze down. He watched his mother return to the painter’s side, probably explaining her ideas to the other woman. And then the painter looked at him, truly looked at him, and it sent unpleasant shivers going down his spine.

Then, Alicent turned back to Aemond. “If you wish, I can stay-”

“I do not wish that,” Aemond said, a bit harsher than intended. Alicent just nodded once, before exiting the chamber.

And then they were alone. 

You were hesitating, he could tell. Aemond was good at reading people’s body language, knew it in the way they held themselves and the way they looked around. And it was clear that this painter wanted to leave. 

“I shall start with a sketch,” you suddenly said, making him stare right into your eyes. You faltered for a moment, then continued. “I might need to make a few sketches, so if you want to try a different position…” you noticed the way he grasped the hilt of his sword, “t-then that is alright, of course.” 

“Do whatever is best and quick. I do not wish to have it taken anyways.”

You paused at that, taking a breath before grabbing paper and charcoal. You started sketching him, noticing his tight posture and the glare in his eyes. Something had told you, deep inside, that perhaps the rumours and whispers surrounding the prince were not true. But seeing him now, in all of his glory, that little voice had died off completely. 

You sketched him from a few different angles, the silence becoming suffocating. Usually you conversed a bit with your subjects. His brother had been very chatty--flirty, yes, but also very chatty. But prince Aemond was standing almost as still as a statue, barely blinking. 

“So…” you started carefully, “being a Targaryen, I believe you have a dragon, too?”

You already knew the answer, but you were hoping this could be a start to a conversation, maybe a small peek into his mind. 

“I believe,” he started, his eye narrowing slightly, “you should keep silent and work faster.”

You fell silent. Maybe working in complete silence wouldn’t be too bad… but your sketches so far felt impersonal, uninspired. 

“I do not like to rush,” you tell the prince as you sketched out his figure, “I like delivering paintings I am most proud of.”

He stayed silent.

“I finished the painting of prince Aegon a few days ago. Have you seen it?”

More silence.

He had seen it, and he had been impressed by it. But that was before he knew the painting had been made by a woman. 

“I have seen it,” he said after a moment of silence. “It was… adequate.”

You suppressed a small smile. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you just replied. “Queen Alicent picked out what to put in the background. She had a creative mind.”

Even though his mother annoyed him at times, he still loved her. And the fact you spoke kindly of her, made him the tiniest bits less aggressive towards you.

“She is a smart woman,” Aemond replied, “she knows what is best for us, for the royal family.”

He spoke slowly, but controlled. You could tell that as he spoke, he was changing his posture in the slightest bits, a little less stiff and a little bit more relaxed. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword, but it was less harsh. 

You wrote down tiny notes on the paper, little reminders for yourself.

“A strong family head is most important,” you agreed with him. “A person leading everyone in the right direction and who guides the lost. 

Aemond quietly agreed. “She is smart, and strong,” and after a moment, he added; “for a woman.”

You stopped sketching for a moment, giving him your full attention now. You saw the glint in his eye, almost a clear challenge. And though he was from the royal family, you couldn’t help yourself but give in.

“For a woman?” you finally said after a moment, “does her sex have anything to do with it?”

Aemond was nearly happy you took the bait, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Of course,” he replied simply, “it has everything to do with it.”

“Please,” you said, sketching another line, “do elaborate.”

His eye turned hard again, just as harsh as it had been when he entered the chamber and saw you for the first time.

“It is a known fact women are emotional,” he started, talking as if he knew every single little thing about the opposite sex, “being emotional makes a person dangerous, unpredictable. As the head for a family, sure, they can be fine leaders. A woman’s duty is to become a mother, after all, so she should be able to take care of said family.”

You listened silently, though you were shaking your head at what he was saying. And of course, he noticed. 

“You do not agree?”

“I do not,” you said simply, noticing the way he adjusted the leather covering his eye for a moment. “A lot of people call women emotional…” you started, looking up at the prince, then back down to your sketch, “but I never understood why.”

“They are,” he said, cutting you off. “They are unpredictable, and emotional, and…”

“Every lady I have met,” you said, boldly cutting him off even as his sentence had trailed off, “has been demure, and silent, and listened. And I have painted a lot of families. The higher their rank, the more silent the woman had been. But-” Aemond looked at you, surprising you by simply listening, “But, the second I started up a conversation with them, they had the most interesting things to tell. About their hobbies and ways they raised their children in the most creative ways.” You sighed softly, grabbing a new paper and choosing a different angle. Aemond just watched you silently. “It is why I enjoy painting women, too. They are kind souls, and they are creative. They do not start arguments for fun. Or to prove me wrong.”

Aemond scoffed, knowing that you were hinting at him. But your words had given him pause. You were right, in a way. The most dramatic people he had ever met were in the small council, or lords bickering over an inch of land. The women were subdued and introverted, silenced by the men around her.

“I see,” he finally said after a moment. He wouldn’t apologise, he simply didn’t have a reason to. But the way you had spoken so boldly, yet so controlled, it made a tiny bit of respect flare up inside of him.

A silence fell after that. You found an angle you liked most, deciding to sketch it once more before putting it on the large canvas you had prepared. 

“I hadn’t expected the royal painter to be a… woman,” he said finally, making you look up again. 

Aegon had said the same thing to you, but in a far more flirty way. You smiled softly.

“Queen Alicent keeps it a secret,” you tell him, “or else I could get in trouble. But, yes, I am a woman.”

Your dress may be far simpler than his mother or sister would wear, but it was plenty enough for you. It was already covered a bit in charcoal, and once you would start using paint, the mess would only get worse. 

“Why pursue something that could get you in trouble?” he asked you, making you pause for a moment. 

“I love art,” you tell him finally, “I love creating things, putting my all into something. I have been creating since I was a young girl, and kept practicing ever since.”

You sighed, cleaning off your hands. “Only becoming a broodmare for a man I am forced to marry didn’t seem too interesting to me. I felt there simply must be more to life.”

Aemond’s eyebrow arched in surprise at your words, not expecting such crude ones about the life of a woman. But he could understand, in a way. Pursuing something that people said you would be unable to do. He himself had been told he wouldn’t be too good with his sword after he lost his eye. And in the end, he had proven them all wrong.

“You are bold,” he said finally, “but your secret is safe with me.”

You felt a bit of relief at his words. One word from the prince, and your secret would be out. You could get thrown in the dungeons, or… or perhaps even hung. A shiver went down your spine. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you said again, this time softer. And then it was silent again. 

You finished the sketch, setting down the charcoal and moving closer towards the prince to show him. He stiffened for a moment, his posture anything but welcoming.

“This is the general idea,” you told him, pointing to a few items on the sketch. You showed the pose, the angle, how you would put emphasis on the dragons carved on his tunic, and how the painting wouldn’t turn out too gloomy, even if the banner behind him was black.

“I would be honoured to hear your thoughts,” you said when he stayed quiet, only eyeing the paper. But even then, he stayed quiet for a long moment.

“I wish to change the scenery,” he said finally. He walked away from the appointed spot, over to where the window was. The view of the city was incredible, mountains reaching as far as the eye could see. An idea bubbled up inside of his mind, perhaps a mean one.

“I want to stand near the window. I want my painting to show the grandness of our realm.”

You walked closer to him, looking out of the window as well. The amount of detail and work this would take was immense. But when you saw the challenging look in his eye, you knew you couldn’t back down.

“I… see,” you said slowly, seeing the castle wall, the mountains, the bright blue sky…

Aemond smirked, turning to move the black Targaryen banner towards the window. “Yes, this is a lot better, no?”

You just nodded, your brain working a mile a minute as you tried to make this work with the sketch you had made and the change of scenery. The lighting would be different, and the draping of the banner as well, and…

“Well, was that all for today?” he asked, looking awfully pleased with himself. You swallowed, nodding. “Ah… yes, of course…”

You set your supplies down, bowing before the prince. “The day after tomorrow… we can start with the set-up of the painting.”

“Excellent,” he replied, and exited the chamber. You were left alone, staring at the new layout of the painting. And you were ready to scream.

----------

The next day was entirely spent prepping the new chamber. You had woken up early in your bed, the queen graciously having given you quite a luxurious chamber. But no matter how comfortable the bed was, you had been far too stressed to sleep well.

You had woken up early, forced a young servant boy to follow you as you walked towards the room. 

“Stand right here,” you commanded the child, the boy looking around uncomfortably as he stood there. You adjusted the banner hundreds of times, writing and sketching down how the sun was falling on the scenery at around what times. 

“Stand still,” you ordered the servant boy when he shifted his weight again.

“I can’t!” he whined, “we have been here for hours, can I leave now?”

“Of course, you are dismissed,” a deeper voice rang out, making you turn quickly. And there he was, smirk and all on his face, the prince himself.

The servant boy quickly bowed and ran out of the room, leaving you alone with the prince. You cleared your throat, storing the sketches away in your leather binder. “I thought we were meeting tomorrow?” you said evenly, not looking back at him.

Aemond walked further into the chamber, looking at the changes you had made. And though he wouldn’t admit it, the small changes you had made looked quite good. 

“I was wondering what all the commotion was,” he simply said, turning back to you. You noticed that he was wearing more laid back clothes today, the leather tunic worn and scratched up. His eyepatch, too, seemed to be a different one. And he looked far more… relaxed. More than yesterday, at least.

“There was no commotion,” you retaliated, the prince laughing drily.

“No? I’m sure I heard one of my servants nearly cry.”

You turned sharply, brows furrowed. “He was not crying,” you said, focusing back on your binder. “He simply… had to stand still. That is all.”

Aemond walked closer to you, looking into your binder. He could swear he saw a leg, before you abruptly closed it.

“I was simply making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow,” you told the prince, “I do take my job seriously.” Aemond studied you for a moment, but didn’t say anything.

“I see,” he said finally, taking a step back. “I can respect an artist who takes their work seriously. After all, this painting is most important to the royal family…”

He looked around, before walking back towards the door. “Until tomorrow,” and then he was gone.

You took a deep breath, sitting back down on the small stool. You couldn’t believe how much this prince was getting on your nerves. You looked back at your binder, seeing all the different sketches you had made. You grabbed one, looking at it with some appreciation. He might have interrupted the moment, but you had managed to get the perfect angle right before the prince had dismissed the servant. 

You sighed again, looking through your other sketches, finding the ones you had made for a different client. Being an artist was no easy task, and though the royal family paid well, it wasn’t enough to sustain your entire life. But there were always… certain people who wanted to get painted. Or wanted to get something painted. You were lucky you had to return next week, and not this week. Because you were certain this prince was going to keep you very busy.

----------

“Could you move a bit to the right, please?”

Aemond sighed deeply, before moving. You almost wanted to scold him, to say that this was his fault for wanting to be painted right next to a window, but you kept your mouth shut. He was far taller than the servant boy had been, meaning you had to figure out the lighting once again. 

You squinted your eyes, taking steps back to see the total image. 

“A tiny bit to the left- yes, yes, that’s perfect!” You felt giddy when the sun finally hit the prince at the perfect angle, making him look every inch the prince and warrior. He stood still, watching you rush to your canvas and starting the rough sketch.

You worked in silence, looking from the prince to your canvas and back. He studied you in turn, wondering if he truly was supposed to stand in utter silence for the next few hours, or if you would start a conversation with him. But you seemed too focused to start a conversation.

“Will I need to stand here for the entire painting?” he asked you finally, you looking back at him, though not stopping your work. 

“Not necessarily," you told him. “I hope today I can start blocking out a few colours, and then tomorrow start working on painting your face. Once that is done, you do not need to pose anymore.”

Aemond nodded slowly, feeling a bit of relief. “And if I choose to stand every single day until it is finished?” He was clearly teasing again, wondering if you would react the same you had just two days ago.  You hummed, nearly having finished the sketch now.

“Well, be prepared to stand here for a month, maybe even more.” His eyebrows raised at that. 

“Really?” he asked you, “a painting takes that long?”

“Well, to complete one, with details and all… and this size canvas as well… yes, probably.”

He was silent again, shifting a tiny bit to your dismay. But you stayed quiet, focusing on your work. 

“Does it never get boring?” he asked again, and you shook your head. 

“Not really, I like doing detailed, precise work.”

He thought back to yesterday, how he had seen part of a sketch with what seemed like a bare leg.

“Do you only make portraits?” he asked suddenly, which made you freeze a bit. Aemond smirked, feeling like he was about to discover something major.

“Well… mostly, yes,” you started carefully, “but I also like painting landscapes.”

“Anything else?”

You were quiet. 

“Pets and animals, too.”

Aemond’s single eye narrowed, but he stayed silent. He knew there was something you were hiding, but he didn’t know what. But he would certainly get to the bottom of it.

----------

A few more days passed, you working more on the sketch, then getting ready to paint and start blocking out the colours. And every single time, Aemond’s gaze fell on your binder. 

He knew you were hiding something, he was certain he had seen something when you were storing away your sketches. But what?

Call him foolish, but he had stayed awake just so he could sneak into the room at night.

The castle was dark and abandoned, save from a few guards at their post. They simply greeted him, before continuing their surveillance. The chamber wasn’t too far from his bedchamber. Just two stairs, a long corridor to the left, and…

He softly pushed the door open, wincing when it creaked a bit. He entered the chamber, the moonlight giving him just enough light so he could see where your supplies were. He took a moment to look at the painting you had left to dry, noticing you really were making a lot of progress. He pushed down the feeling of awe, focusing back on what he came to do. He wasn’t here to admire your work, he was here to find out more about you. He found not one, but three binders that you had left.

He took a deep breath, opening the first one. He didn’t see anything weird about this one, just a few old sketches of ladies you had painted, and some sketches of animals. This one was normal.

He opened the second one, seeing much of the same. He did find a few sketches you had made of his brother, reading the small words you had written around it. He smirked, noticing the words ‘drunk’ and ‘direct’ around them. But again, he didn’t see anything weird.

He grabbed the final one, noticing that this one was tied more firmly, as if you really didn’t want it to accidentally open.

He fidgeted a bit with the knot, before deciding to open it anyways. He had come so far already, there was no turning back. He fumbled with the knot, picking and tugging until he finally opened it. He held his breath, slowly looking through the sketches. 

And he found… normal ones. He found sketches of himself, more sketches of animals, and he wanted to groan in frustration. He was certain he had seen something weird, something different when you had put away his sketches, but where… and then he saw it.

He fell silent.

There, on the paper in grey tones, was a drawing of a man. And a woman.

He knew artists sometimes had studies of naked subjects, so they could practice anatomy, but this? This was not an anatomy study, he was certain. He looked at the small text you had written around it. 

‘Comission Olly and Nora’

He knew it. He knew you needed to do something other than simply painting commissions from wealthy families. You drew people nude; coupling. Aemond smirked at this new information. Now this… this could get you in trouble. And as a woman, no less…

He looked through different sketches, seeing a few more. More names, more positions and different people. Aemond would be lying if he said the images weren’t affecting him. He felt a flush creep up on his neck, his hands less steady than they usually were. 

You were a… great artist. And these indecent sketches certainly proved that. He slammed the binder shut, putting knots in the ropes holding it together. And then he went back to his bedchamber.

----------

“I believe I may be finished with the face after today,” you told the prince, adding details to his face. Aemond had been awfully quiet, watching you with a closer eye than normal. “As in… you do not have to pose anymore after today, probably…”

Still no reply.

It was almost unnerving, the way he was staring at you, as if he was simply waiting for the right moment to strike. You cleaned your brush, clearing your throat before continuing putting more details in his hair. 

He finally cleared his throat. “May I look?” he asked politely, and you didn't see any reason to deny him. You took a step back from the painting, making space for the prince to look.

“Hmm…” he said, looking at the canvas. It already looked great, the amount of detail in his face actually giving him pause. He looked at the rest, seeing the sketch you had made of his body, the way you had blocked out the colours of his clothing and the banner. He also saw the background slowly being formed, the view out of the window indeed showing the beauty of King’s Landing. 

“You are very talented,” he murmured after a while, glancing towards you. “The… anatomy in particular. However did you become so good at that?”

You stiffened a bit, focusing on cleaning off your brush instead. “Lessons, I suppose,” you told him, “I learned the basics of anatomy. With practice I got better.”

“What kind of practice?” He asked, cutting you off.  He laughed drily when he saw your expression, shifting his weight. “I am just curious, my lady, no need to get defensive.”

“I learned it the same way a man would,” you bit back, growing more annoyed and defensive. “You learn by drawing live models.”

Aemond hummed at that, his eye meeting yours. “I see… and you have practiced the nude form of men and women, then?”

You stared back at him, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up. There was no way he knew, you had hidden everything away. 

“Well, yes…” you started carefully, the smirk on Aemond’s face not faltering. He just nodded, looking back at the sketch you had made of him.

“I have seen work like this before,” he said after a moment, his hand rubbing his chin, “in… less polite establishments.” He studied your face, seeing a nervous flush forming on your neck.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” you said dismissively, taking a step back. But Aemond knew he was close to getting the truth from you, and he stepped closer. 

“Tell me,” he murmured lowly, “do you truly earn enough from creating these paintings? Or… do you have a secret business on the side?”

You stayed awfully quiet, your lips parted as you looked at him. 

"You must have a most... extensive set of sketches hidden away somewhere. I would be most curious to see them."

You took a shaky breath, shaking your head. “I do not know what you are implying," you whispered again, desperate for him to give up on his questioning. You took another step back, the brushes still clenched in your hand. “I earn… I earn more than enough painting lords and ladies alike. I have no need to… to have another business.”

“Oh, I think we both know that is not true…” he nearly purred, walking even closer to you. Any distance you tried to have between you two got closed immediately by the prince. 

“I want to see them,” he said finally, his eye moving to your lips for just a split second. “Show me those sketches you make… and I will consider keeping it a secret for the world.”

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head. “I cannot show them,” you whisper, finally giving in, “it is not proper.”

“I think we passed the point of propriety a while ago, my lady,” he teased, his voice smooth as he teased you. He leaned in closer, his lips next to your ear. “Show me,” he whispered again, “tonight. Or else I will make sure the entire realm knows of your… dirty artworks.”

Your eyes widened, and Aemond pulled back, a smirk on his lips. 

“Meet me here, at the hour of the owl,” he stated, “and if you don’t…” he trailed off, but the warning was clear enough for you. You watched breathlessly as the prince exited the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And you knew then that you were in trouble. 

----------

You hadn’t been able to do anything more that day. His words were ringing in your ears, and there was nothing that you could do. The hour of the owl arrived far too slowly, and after you had grabbed your hidden binder, you made your way towards the chamber where he would probably already be waiting for you. 

You moved silently, not wanting anyone to see that you were sneaking about at such ungodly hours. 

And when you finally arrived, the prince was already there. He turned when he heard the door open, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, my lady,” he greeted, immediately noticing the binder under your arms. “You came bearing gifts?”

You couldn’t even smile at his joke, too worried that you were going to get thrown in the dungeons for this. 

“You cannot tell anyone,” you whispered, setting the binder down. Aemond raised his hands, crossing one over his heart. “You have my word,” he murmured, far too eager to look at your drawings. 

You took a step back, allowing him to open the binder and go through it. Aemond started undoing the knot, feeling awfully eager.

“I do make money from this,” you breathed out, “people pay a lot for works like this. And… and I need the income.” You fidgeted with your hands nervously, Aemond opening up the binder and going through the countless sketches.

Aemond flipped through the pages of the binder, his eye widening with each turn. The sketches were... exquisite. Explicit, even. The prince felt a familiar stirring as he looked at the naked forms captured on paper. Men and women alike, posed in intimate, provocative ways. Even a few where there was a man and a woman portrayed, being awfully close.

He paused on a bold sketch, a drawing of a woman laying on a chaise, her legs spread, one of her hands brushing against her revealed breasts. Aemond took a deep breath, almost able to imagine that this was a sketch of you.

He turned back to face you, noticing the way you were staring down at the floor. “These are…” he said slowly, making your eyes snap back to him, “exquisite. Sinful.” 

You flushed.

“Tell me, sweet lady, do you watch these people when you create these? Watch them as they lose themselves in pleasure while you simply watch, and draw?”

You took a shaky breath, shaking your head. “N-no,” you whispered, “I do not watch them.”

This surprised Aemond. He could already imagine you sketching two lovers intertwined, squeezing your thighs tightly as your own arousal got pushed to the side. 

“No?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. He was holding a sketch of a man and a woman together, the man taking his lover in missionary. “Then however do you sketch this with such… detail?”

“I have a book,” you replied, barely audible. This surprised Aemond even more. “I-it is a book where… where there are different… positions…” you murmured carefully, “and then the… the couple chooses which one they want… to be immortalised.”

This was good. This was too good, Aemond thought. Here you were, the cutest and most talented painter, admitting you have a book filled with sexual positions. Does that mean you were still…

“Are you untouched?” he asked boldly, making your eyes widen. 

“W-what?” you stammered, wanting to take another step back, but the brick wall of the castle held you in place. Aemond smiled at you, caging you in. 

“Are you…” he repeated, “untouched? By others… and yourself?”

"I... I don't see how that's any of your business," you finally managed to choke out, even as a traitorous part of you ached to confess the truth. That yes, at your age, you were still a maiden. But you had touched yourself. How could you now, after all of the things you had seen in that book, after seeing the things you had created yourself. 

“I am a lady,” you whispered, shivering when you felt his lips brush against your cheek. “A lady…” he repeated, “who creates such wanton artwork.” His hands moved to your waist, his touch nearly electric. “Tell me, sweet lady, do you not wonder?” His eye searched yours, seeing the effect he was having on you. Your walls were crumbling down, he could tell. “Do you not wonder what it would be like… to be in the position of the ladies you draw so well?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, something the prince didn’t miss. 

“I… I…” you stammered, unable to even think straight anymore. 

“Show me your favourite one,” he said quietly, “your favourite sketch… and I might make that a reality for you.” His teeth grazed your earlobe, nipping gently. 

Your breath hitched, a shiver going down your spine. You tried to stay quiet, to not admit the fantasies that roamed your mind at night. But he was making it awfully difficult. His hands were roaming over your body, his fingers skipping the lines of your bodice before his hand cupped your breast. You gasped, arching into his touch as he squeezed the flesh gently. 

“Come on…” he urged you on, “tell me.” His lips grazed the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his breeches, your knowledge on anatomy enough for you to understand exactly what it was. 

“It’s-” you managed to whimper out, “it’s the last one you had looked at.”

Aemond paused for a moment, a smile spreading on his lips. “Ah… I see…”

He took a step back from you, walking back over to the table where your sketches were lying on. He grabbed the last one he had looked at, smiling at the scene. It was a woman, laying down on a chaise while her lover was between her spread thighs, his face buried. He let his eye roam over the scene, his heart rate speeding up. He turned the page to you, showing you the familiar lines of the scene. 

“Such a naughty girl,” he purred out, putting the sketch back down. “To sketch such a dirty scene…”

He walked back towards you, one of his hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull. “You want me to do this to you, sweet lady?” he breathed against your lips. “You want me to spread that sweet cunny open? To devour you whole?”

You shivered again, your own hands holding onto his tunic. All you could do was nod, not trusting your own voice. 

“I have been wondering,” he murmured against your lips, “if your pussy tastes as sweet as you act.”

He dropped to his knees before you, your body leaning heavily against the stone wall. His hands tugged up your skirts, his breath halting for a moment when he saw the wet patch in your smallclothes. He smirked, leaning in to press his face against the fabric. He inhaled deeply, moaning softly.

“By the Gods, I want you,” he groaned, sounding almost like he was in pain. He managed to pull back, grabbing your hand. “Lie down for me,” he urged you on. “I cannot wait any longer.”

You allowed him to pull you along, almost in a trance. You knew this was wrong, so wrong. He was a prince, and you were still a maiden. You should say no, leave now with your virtue still intact, but the ache between your thighs was now impossible to ignore. You allowed him to lead you to the chaise, removing the cloth that was covering it. 

He grabbed your hands again, playfully nipping at your fingers. You watched him with wide eyes, your arousal now soaking through your panties. He stepped closer, holding your body close against his, and kissed you.

He kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours before brushing his tongue against your lips. You clutched his sleeves, allowing him closer, needing him closer. His tongue slipped between your lips, moving against yours. His movements grew needier, more impatient. He pressed you harder against him, his hands at the back of your dress undoing the lacing. You could only kiss him back, try to mimic his movements as you held onto him for dear life. Your dress felt looser, and with a sharp tug, the prince pulled it down. He managed to pull back, eyeing you up and down.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed out, walking you back towards the chaise. You fell down on it,  staring up at him with that gorgeous, needy expression. He looked down at you, adjusting himself in his breeches. 

“Undress,” he ordered, “Now. Do not make me wait.”

You scrambled to take off your boots, then your stockings and your thin shift. Your movements were hurried, clumsy.

“I-I have never-”

“I know,” he cut you off, staring at your nude body. He crawled over you, pressing another deep kiss to your lips. His hands roamed over your skin, groping and squeezing and teasing. “You are a work of art,” he purred against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. You mewled and arched into his touch, one of your hands burying in his long hair. “And I am the first to claim you.”

He moved further down, propping himself up between your thighs. You looked down at him breathlessly, your heart pounding. And then, he attached his mouth to your cunt.

He moaned at the taste, your sweet arousal coating his tongue. He lapped eagerly, his hands holding your hips tightly into place.

“Oh!” you moaned out, your hips bucking.one of your hands moved to tangle in the prince’s hair, mewls and moans escaping you. “Oh, Gods-”

Aemond groaned against your core, moving to attach his lips to your clit. You were so soaked, so warm--you were perfect. He moved down again, fucking your tongue into your pussy while using his free hand to rub at your pearl.

You were nearly sobbing, the new, intense sensations setting every single nerve ending on fire. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, growing tighter, and tighter, and-

You sobbed his name out, bucking your hips hard into his face as your orgasm washed over you. Aemond groaned in satisfaction as he felt your release, lapping up every drop of your ambrosia, his own cock throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his breeches. He slowly let up, resting back on his heels while staring down at your panting, flushed body. He could only smile, watching the way you covered your face in exhaustion and embarrassment. He leaned down to press a final kiss to your mound, before covering your body with his. 

He kissed you softly, pulling your hand away from your face. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, seeing the satisfied and tired look in your eyes. He pressed another kiss to your lips, his nose nuzzling against yours. 

“That was… amazing,” you breathed out, a smile forming on the prince’s face. He palmed his aching cock through his breeches, unable to look away from you. His free hand grazed over your breast, before sliding down your arm and grabbing your hand. He guided it to his cock, a soft groan escaping him. 

“Touch me,” he murmured, guiding your hand along his clothed length, “make me feel good.” 

You whined softly, following along his movements. He throbbed under your touch.

He placed his hand over yours again, pressing you firmer against him. His hips bucked, a low moan escaping him. “Please me,” he ordered gently, “I’ll make you feel good again, too.”

He slowly undid the laces to his breeches, shoving the fabric down his thighs and taking himself in his hand. You whined softly when you saw him, and he guided his hand back towards his hard cock.”Yess-” he hissed, hips bucking, “Be a good girl and please me-”

A sudden noise outside on the hallway made both of you pause. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, pulling away and tugging his breeches back up. He peeked outside of the door, noticing which hour it was. 

“Get dressed,” he ordered, even though the thought of you covering up your gorgeous body pained him. “We must leave.”

He walked over to your binder, storing all of the sketches carefully before locking it up again. You rushed to get dressed again, putting on your dress and boots. Aemond paused for a moment, pressing a kiss to your hand.

“We’ll meet again,” he promised, not wanting to let you go yet. He handed you the binder of drawings, a small smile on his lips. “Tomorrow, to be exact.”

You took a shaky breath, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“And perhaps,” he said softly, “you can make one of those lovely sketches for me. Of your body, of course.”

You felt your skin heat up again, but you nodded regardless.

And with a final kiss, you both snuck away, back to your chambers. But you couldn’t sleep.

[fish189]

About the fic request.

The other day i had a dream where the reader and aemond are not betrothed to eachother but they are kinda flirting because the reader likes reading just like aemond.

Then one day a lannister princess comes into court and aemond starts paying more attention to her because she is pretty so the reader gets jealous.

I woke up after that and i dont have a full context because it was a dream xd but i really like your fics and your creativity so if you could bring my literal dream to reality it would be so cool!!! (Only if you want to ofc) <3

i likey this very much will work on this when im done with my current fic muahaha

[fish189]

thank you for the martin fic, he’s my man <3

yessss hes so hot,,,,im glad u liked it!!! xxx

[fish189]

closing shift

Martin Lefevre x Reader

Summary: Martin fucks you in the tiny stockroom at your job. that's it.

Content: almost no plot at all, fingering, kissing, handjob, he calls you good girl and princess, finger sucking, PiV, creampie (use protection), standing doggy, kinda public but not really

Note: this is 100% self-indulgent i just want this stupid loser

2.2K

---------

Just twenty minutes left. You sighed, resting your head on your hand as you looked out of the large windows of the store you worked at. You worked in a small boutique, and today you had the closing shift. It wasn’t too much work luckily, just cleaning up a bit and straightening up the store, and of course the money aspect bla bla…

You yawned again, checking the time once more. Nineteen minutes left until you could finally close up. You managed to drag yourself away from the entrance, moving towards the back to grab the vacuum. Just a bit more cleaning, and then you would be done. You cleaned the fitting rooms, a bit around the store where you could reach and until where you felt like it. 

You stored the vacuum back up again, looking at the time. Thirteen more minutes. Not too bad, you thought, just a few more minutes. You could probably close a few minutes earlier, too.

You walked over to the table where some jeans were all messed up, folding them up as a way to spend the last few minutes. When you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind, you nearly screamed.

“Woah, cool it,” you heard your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Jesus fuck-” you breathed out, turning around to look at him. “I thought you were picking me up, like, fifteen minutes after closing!”

He smiled lazily, leaning against the counter. “Eh, had some free time so I decided to come earlier.” He looked around the store, not seeing any couches or chairs. So he settled on leaning against the counter, watching you tidy up the last bits.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked, you turning around when you had finished cleaning up.

“Mm, yeah, was fine,” you hummed, walking back over to him. He was wearing his regular baggy jeans with a black hoodie, a chain dangling from his washed-out jeans. 

“You?” 

He opened his arms, beckoning you closer for a hug. He was warm and smelled good, and you just wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms. After a moment, you pulled back.

“Was fine,” he replied, not bothering to tell you any details about his boring day. “Long.”

You nodded once, checking the time again. Five more minutes.

“I’m closing in two,” you said, not wanting to wait a second longer than that. The day had been too long already, and you were ready to go home. You walked behind the counter, getting the papers for closing ready. “Did you figure dinner out yet?” You asked Martin, seeing him fidget with the strings of his hoodie. 

“Tacos,” he simply replied, making you shake your head with a soft smile. 

“Tacos,” you repeated, and he just nodded his head. 

“Yeah, baby, tacos. Got all the shit, lettuce and cheese and the shells and filling and guac.” He seemed proud of himself, clearly excited for the dinner coming up.

“Yum,” you hummed, checking the time again. Two more minutes. “I’m closing,” you murmured to yourself, walking over to the door and locking it. 

“Finally,” you huffed, Martin touching your waist as you walked past him again. You turned the lights off, tapping on the register and closing up. 

“Just need a couple minutes,” you murmured softly, Martin nodding patiently. 

Martin watched you work efficiently, locking up and shutting down the store. Once you were finished, he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

"All done now, baby?" he asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You hummed softly, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, just need to get my things…”

You walked to the back, opening it with your key. Martin slowly followed after you, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt as he walked along. You smiled softly at his neverending touches, finding them quite cute.

You walked into the small breakroom, grabbing your bag and jacket from the locker. 

Suddenly Martin appeared again, leaning lazily against the door opening. "Found everything you need?" he asked with a casual smirk. "I thought you said you were excited to go home, but you're taking forever back here."

“Oh, hush,” you huffed out, walking over to the small kitchen area and storing away your clean mug. “Just need my phone, and…”

He stepped closer, crowding into your personal space. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. "Unless there's something else you need help with, hmm?"

He pressed you back against the small kitchen counter, his hands sliding up your shirt to graze along your skin. Your breath hitched, goosebumps forming wherever his fingers touched. 

“Martin…” you said softly, feeling him lean in to press kisses along your jaw. “Baby… we should do this at home…”

Even though you tried to protest, you leaned into his touch, your own hands tugging at his sweater. You felt him smirk against your skin, his long black hair brushing against your cheek. 

“Come on, baby… this place is deserted anyways.” His hands slid higher up your shirt, brushing just at the underside of your breasts. You moaned softly, your heart pounding. He pressed you harder against the small kitchen counter with his hips, and you already felt him hard in his jeans.

“Just you ‘n me, baby…” he murmured again, pressing featherlight kisses against your throat. His fingers slid underneath the fabric of your bra, your back arching a bit when his fingers brushed against your nipples. He pushed the fabric fully up, his hands cupping your mounds. 

“Fuck, I want you,” he groaned softly, pressing his hips harder against yours. “Feel that? Feel how badly I want you?”

And you could. His cock was rock-hard already, pressing against the denim of his jeans. “Just a quickie, baby, come on.”

He stared into your eyes, before leaning in and kissing you deeply. He forced his tongue between your lips, groaning when his tongue slid against yours. It was messy, sloppy. Hot. 

“I’ll be quick,” he mumbled again, his hands letting go of your breasts to grope your ass, “I promise I’ll be quick-”

He kissed you again, pushing you harder back into the cramped storage room. You moaned at his eagerness, your arms wrapping around his neck. There was barely any space to move, the boutique having the tiniest stockroom, with a small kitchen and space for barely two people to be there at the same time. 

He growled softly, pulling away from the kiss enough to look around and try to find a spot to fuck you in.

“Cramped fucking space-” he said annoyed, before tugging your shirt up just enough to expose your breasts. He moaned softly when he saw them, leaning down to take one of them eagerly into his mouth. He suckled and nibbled, making you arch and whine.

“Martin-” you gasped out, feeling a shelf prod into your back. You barely registered it, too horny to feel anything but Martin sucking on your nipple.

His hands fidgeted with the button of your jeans, popping it open and sliding the zipper down. He pushed the fabric down halfway your thighs, a hand slipping into the soft cotton panties you were wearing. 

His digits slid further into your panties, long fingers brushing through your folds. He could feel your arousal coating his digits, making him let out a shaky sigh.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he muttered, pulling off your nipple with a soft pop. "I've barely touched you, and you're already dripping."

You scoffed at that, bucking your hips against his fingers. “You’ve touched me a lot already-” you tried to retaliate, groaning when he pressed a finger inside. He just smiled at your attitude, clearly eager for the main course. 

He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, teasing the sensitive nub as he slipped a second finger inside your tight pussy. He pumped them slowly, curling it to hit that special spot deep inside you. His other hand fumbled with the button of his own jeans, popping it open and shoving them down just enough to pull out his hard cock.

His breathing got heavier, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Come on, princess,” he breathed out, “help me out here.”

You swallowed, moving your hand towards his cock. Martin groaned deeply when he felt your hand wrapping around his cock, his hips bucking. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl-” he rocked his hips, fucking your hand with his cock. His fingers kept moving inside of you, your wetness running down his fingers. He used his thumb to press against your clit, biting down on the soft skin of your neck. 

“Getting tighter on me-” he grunted out, “you ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding. “‘M ready, baby-” you whimpered, “please, please, I need it-”

Your boyfriend groaned softly, pulling his fingers out of your soaked pussy. “I got you, baby,” he mumbled, tugging your jeans and panties further down your legs. He looked around the tiny stockroom, his brain working overtime in trying to find a way to make this work. 

He grabbed your hips, squeezing softly. “Turn around baby,” he commanded sweetly, making another bolt of arousal course through you.

You turned around, feeling Martin kick your legs a little further apart--as far as your jeans at your ankles allowed. “Good girl,” he murmured, grabbing his cock and teasing you for a short moment with his tip. You bent further over the tiny kitchen counter, hearing him take in a sharp breath. 

And then he pressed forward. 

His fingers squeezed your hips tightly, a hiss escaping him. “Fuuuuck yes-” he moaned out, bottoming out completely. “Love this perfect fucking pussy-”

You whined out, holding on for your dear life. “Martin-” you whined, pressing your hips back against his impatiently. 

“Shhh…” he said as he leaned forwards, his lips pressing against your ear. “What if other closing stores heard you? Gotta be quiet, baby…”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, Martin loving to tease you. He slid out of you, before fucking back into you. You whimpered, doing your best to stay quiet. One of his hands moved from your waist to your breast, squeezing it and pinching your nipple.

“Fuck yes,” you panted out, moving harder back against him. You needed this so badly, needed him to make you cum right here at your shitty fucking job. 

“That’s it,” he groaned out, his hand moving down from your breast, sliding over your stomach before reaching your pussy and rubbing at your clit. He felt you clench around him, making his hips start to move faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small space. He was getting close too, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

“Wanna make you come, sweet girl,” he whispered in your ear. He rubbed harshly against your clit, making you bite your lower lip hard to keep from moaning too loud. 

“Martin-” you gasped, your boyfriend slipped two fingers into your mouth. “Shhh…” he whispered again, “just take it. Take my cock.”

You whined around his fingers, sucking on them like a good girl. Martin sped up, and you could feel the knot in your stomach growing impossibly tight. 

“Come for me, princess,” he panted, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and tilting your face back towards him, “come around my cock.”

He kissed you deeply, fucking himself one, two mote times into you, when you finally came. You moaned into his mouth, your entire body tensing and shuddering. He continued to thrust into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm and drawing it out as long as possible.

He kept praising you until he tensed up, coming deep inside of you with a soft groan. He let go of your face, resting his head against your shoulder as he slowly came down from his high with you. His hands slipped around your waist, holding you close. 

He stayed like that for a moment, just holding you as you both caught your breath. He pressed soft kisses to your jaw and neck, murmuring praise against your skin.

"Goddamn, baby," he panted softly, "that was amazing. You did so fucking good, took my cock like such a good girl."

You smiled softly, tapping his leg. He took the hint, pulling out of you with a slight wince. He tucked himself back into his jeans, you turning to face him slowly. Before you could move to pull your own jeans back up, your boyfriend cupped your face in his hands, pressing the softest kiss to your lips. You smiled softly, feeling him use the sleeves of his sweater to gently wipe away the sheen of sweat that had appeared on your brow. 

"You okay, princess?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I know I got a little rough there at the end..."

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then another to the tip of your nose. You just smiled, shaking your head no. “You didn’t,” you told him, making him feel a bit more at ease. “I liked it.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, before bending down to help you tug up your jeans again.

“You’re the best,” he murmured, watching you button and zip up your jeans. You looked around the small stockroom again, grabbing all of your stuff. “I’m ready to go now,” you told him, Martin grinning and pulling you in for another kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. You melted against him, pecking his lips a final time. “Let’s go home.”

[fish189]

Are you taking requests? cause ive been thinking about a fic with jeaulosy hehe

depends! let me hear ur thoughts!

[fish189]

I love your writhing so much. Everytime I read a fic and love it I know it was you who wrote it.

THANK U AH i'll cry thank you so much <333

[fish189]

giiiirl i just read Bug and it was amaziiinggg love love love it, can't wait for more of ur writings about wlw Helaena u kill it

thank uuuu so much! im def gonna be writing more oneshots ab her <3

[fish189]

Bug

I'm finally done!!! I can't believe it because I usually suck at finishing these kinda things but bug is done. Check it out if you want to <3

it's a friends to lovers between you and Helaena, with a side of crushing on Alicent (in the beginning)

There's smut and insects and feelings

Bug -- Helaena Targaryen x Reader - Modern AU

Helaena had been quite upset when her father Viserys passed away. This was probably also one of the main reasons that you two started to grow closer. She had shown up at school, trying to act as normal as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. But you noticed. --- A story where you and Helaena go from friends to something more. Oh, but you're also into her mom. Don't let her know, though.

19.7K

[fish189]

im working on bug i promise

[fish189]

jealousy

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Summary: After Aemond sees you smiling with a cook, he gets insanely jealous. And he doesn't know how to deal with that.

Content: angst (ish?), jealousy, insecurity, Aemond being mean and not willing to listen, ignoring, PiV sex (as a way to show devotion), riding, aemond lowkey being a drama queen

Note: this lowkey feels like a word vomit so sorry for any mistakes

2K

---------

Aemond watched his wife from across the crowded hall, his single eye following your every move. You had only been married a few short moons, yet already you seemed to be drifting from him. Currently, you appeared deep in conversation with one of the kitchen boys, laughing loudly at something he had said. Aemond frowned, his eye narrowing. Who did this scrawny serving boy think he was, putting such a smile on his wife’s beautiful face? He rose abruptly from his seat, ignoring the questioning look from his brother nearby. Striding across the hall, Aemond took your arm in what was probably a rougher grip than intended. You turned to him in surprise.

"Husband, what-"

"We are leaving." His gruff tone booked no argument. With a polite but tight nod to the now wide-eyed kitchen boy, Aemond steered his wife swiftly from the hall. Once you had retreated to the empty corridors, you yanked your arm from his hold. "Aemond, what in seven hells has gotten into you?" Aemond scowled, unsure himself why the sight of you joking with another man had sent rage coursing through his veins. He was usually not one to show emotions easily.

He knew he should think rationally, take a moment to calm down and have a proper conversation with his wife. But he couldn’t. He felt too angry.

“What has gotten into me?” he replied angrily, his eye staring down into yours. “What has gotten into me?” he repeated, your eyes widening.

“You drift away from me any chance you get,” he said in a low voice, warning clear in his voice. 

He struggled to show tenderness, he knew this. He had married you hoping to find some companionship, and though he had found some, he knew his own social skills still needed a lot of work. But now, seeing you so easily laughing and conversing with another man--a scrawny cook, no less--made him doubt himself. Did you need more than he could give? Was your laughter simply not meant for him?

He swallowed, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He grasped your arm again, a bit more gentle than before. 

“Do I please you so little, wife?” he asked you, “So little that you are already looking for amusement elsewhere? Am I not husband enough for you? Not man enough?”

His words were rough, though there was an undercurrent of insecurity that he hoped you didn't pick up. You had started to mean more to him than he had anticipated, him growing more attached than he knew was safe for his own sanity. And he knew if he ever did lose you, he would never recover.

He searched your face for an answer, but you stayed deadly still.

Your mind was reeling. Was he serious? Your husband who prided himself in his strength, his agility, his knowledge, the dragon he rode, was jealous? 

You felt tongue tied, surprised by the raw emotions etched on his handsome face. And you took too long to answer him.

Aemond turned suddenly, storming away from you. His heart had sunk at your silence, an aching feeling almost swallowing him whole. 

He didn't know what you saw when you looked at him. What you felt. All he knew was that he was not enough. And could he blame her?

All he was, was a one-eyed prince, scarred and angry. He was good at battles, great at wielding his sword, but terrible at matters of the heart. 

And what had he expected? That a woman as passionate and lovely as you would be able to care for such a passionless man like him? He had been foolish, allowing himself to hope for something he would never be able to have.

He wouldn’t show how hurt he was, his pride didn’t allow it. So he sped up, walking out into the courtyard and getting atop of his horse.

But your silence rang in his ears, your expression burned into his memory when he asked you if he was good enough for you, cornfirming what he had believed for all those moons.

He simply was not good enough for you. 

~

He hadn’t returned to you that night, something that had made you incredibly nervous. You had asked maids and servants alike where he had gone, only to get the same answer each time. He had gone out on Vhagar, riding his dragon Gods knew where. 

You barely slept, dawn slowly cresting while you had barely gotten any sleep. He had apparently returned in the early mornings, and now he was stuck in a small council meeting.

You weren’t allowed to enter while he was inside, you knew that. But the wait was agonising.

Hours passed, you waiting in the hallway for the doors to open again. And when they finally did, you saw him again.

But he didn’t look at you. He just stepped out, brushing past you. 

~

Evening fell, and after an entire day of avoiding you, he knew he couldn’t any longer. He slowly made his way back to your bedchambers, letting out a breath of relief when he saw you weren't there yet.

He poured his wine with a slightly unsteady hand, feeling exhaustion creep up on him after not sleeping for an entire night. As he sat down and stared at the lit fire, the memories flooded back to him. What had that boy even said to you that had made you smile so carefree? And why wasn't he able to make you smile like that?

It felt like there was a knife twisting in his stomach, the feeling of inadequateness washing over him. And when you finally entered, beautiful as you always did, he felt anger and insecurity welling up inside him once more. 

You closed the door behind you softly, before walking over to him. “I..” you started, trailing off again which nearly made him burst. But he kept quiet, with a lot of effort. “I was talking to the kitchen boy, because he’s a new servant.” You explained firstly. “He told a joke, which is why I laughed.” You explained to him further, searching his lone eye.

His fist clenched as he listened to you, forcing himself to remain calm and silent.

A joke? A simple joke? His mouth twisted in a sneer, his jaw clenching. Your explanation did little to soothe him. 

He finally met your eye, seeing the pleading and almost desperate look you were giving him. And then the realisation hit him. Had you truly not realised how your actions had hurt him, hit him where he was most insecure?

He had opened up his heart to you, did everything he could to be the man you wanted, you deserved, only for you to hurt him in this way. 

“A joke,” he said finally, his voice a mocking tone. "And do you share your jokes freely with all the serving boys, wife, or only this one who so tickle your fancy? I see now how little you value the bond we share." His eye bored into her, accusation and agony mingling within its depths.

Your eyes widened at his accusation, barely believing what you were hearing. 

“Stop it,” you said harshly, moving to stand in front of him. “Stop being a jealous fool, you… you foolish man.”

Aemond paused at your tone, totally caught off guard. He stared at you in surprise, never having heard you talk in such a way to… anyone, really. 

“Foolish? He replied, his own voice raising as he stood up. “I have opened my heart up to you, and this is how you repay me? To make a mockery out of me?” His eye stared into yours, his expression half angry and half impressed by the way you were standing your ground. He wasn’t sure why he had expected submission from you, but he was silently awfully pleased at the way you were staring at him with steel in your gaze. 

A smile ghosted across his lips.

“He was barely six and ten years of age.” You hissed angrily. “He was asking if the new dish he made was appreciated by the family and after, he made a joke. You must be truly foolish if you believe such a scrawny boy has my interest when I am married to a Targaryen prince.” 

Aemond’s eye never left yours as you hissed angrily at him, not ready to back down yet. But your words did sober him up a bit.

Truly, what was a mere, skinny kitchen servant to a man like him--a prince, a dragonrider?

He regarded you for a long moment, a small seed of shame taking root in his jealousy. You were still staring at him, not backing down. You truly were a fierce one, a true dragon’s wife. 

Finally, he sighed, shifting on his feet. “I see,” he murmured. “It seems I owe you an apology for the way I acted. You have proven your innocence… this night, at least.”

You listened almost in disbelief at what he was saying, clearly still trying to push the blame on you, acting as if he still couldn't truly trust you.

So you sighed deeply, tugging at his tunic and kissing him deeply. 

Aemond was caught off guard for just a moment, his eye widening at your boldness. But he recovered, kissing you back just as eagerly. Just a day he had ignored you, and it truly had been torture.

He kissed you like a man starved, clinging onto you as if he was terrified you would disappear. He growled softly, tugging you closer against him and only pulling back from the kiss when he needed air. He rested his forehead against yours, his eye closed as he simply relished holding you close again. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he breathed out, a shaky smile forming on his lips. You smiled back at him, your heart pounding.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, “only you. I always have and I always will, until I take my last breath.”

He growled softly, clearly not happy with the thought of you passing away. He held you closer, his hands holding you tight. 

“Let me show you,” you whispered. You slowly pushed him back towards the bed, Aemond falling backwards onto the soft mattress. You climbed on top of his lap, his dark gaze watching your every move. 

You slid your hands over his chest, untying the laces of his tunic. 

“Wife…” he said lowly as you touched his bare chest, “what are you doing?”

A soft smile formed on your lips, completely tugging his tunic off. “I’m showing you,” you whispered, before leaning in to press wet kisses against his throat.

He groaned, his large hands grabbing your hips when you started grinding down on him.

He moaned your name, his head falling back against the pillow as you continued to grind on him, his cock growing hard inside of his breeches. 

He wanted you, Gods he wanted you. But he didn’t flip you around. No, he allowed you to set the pace, to show him exactly what you wanted to show him. To please him exactly the way you wanted to.

And you did.

Riding him with a need that bordered on feverish. All he could do was grab at your hips and breasts, watching as you looked like an angel while bouncing on his cock. He came once, twice, three times when you finally collapsed exhausted on his chest, your legs giving out on you.

But you were magnificent. He pulled you close to him, your soft pants filling his ears. 

“Does this…” you panted out, “prove my devotion?”

Aemond blinked sluggishly at you, the man three seconds away from falling asleep. His mind felt foggy, his body heavy yet in heaven at the same time. 

“I love you,” he said finally, all his earlier jealousies and insecurities gone. 

You fell silent, your heart jumping. He pulled you closer, tugging a duvet over the both of you. And then he fell asleep.

“You foolish man,” you whispered softly, nuzzling closer to your husband.“My foolish man.”

[fish189]

dare i say ur my fav Helaena writer

YAY THANK U RAAAAAH

[fish189]

Lady in waiting

Helaena Targaryen x lady in waiting!Reader x Aegon Targaryen

Summary: You are Helaena's lady in waiting, and during the years, she grows closer and closer to you. Aegon notices the way his wife looks at you, and makes a bold decision.

Content warnings: this fic HEAVILY centers Helaena x reader, kissing, PiV, targcest (Helaena x Aegon), flirting, thigh riding, titty sucking, pussy rubbing, creampie, praise kink!!!!!!!!, threesome

Note: love her sm honestly. and aegon? he's there.......i guess......

3.2K

----------

Princess Helaena didn’t have too many ladies in waiting. She hated when people she barely knew hovered around her, making her feel like every move she made was being watched. She preferred to be alone, in her bedchamber, doing the things she loved. She would spend her day embroidering, looking at the insects she had found, and sometimes she would even paint. 

Though she liked being alone, there was one lady in waiting she liked.

You. 

From a distant House, loyal to the crown and connected to King’s Landing through distant family, you became Helaena’s lady in waiting. You were just two years older than her, being by her side as a quiet companion.

Sometimes she would speak in riddles to you, to which you listened and nodded quietly. But most times, you just silently sat in her chamber, allowing her to do her own thing. She would speak to you if she wanted to, which sometimes wasn’t at all. 

Married to her older brother Aegon at just three and ten, you also knew him quite well. Being the same age as him, he tried getting closer to you many times. But you always stayed loyal to your princess, something she quietly appreciated a lot. 

As you grew up alongside her and her brother-husband, she grew closer and closer to you. She talked more often, invited you to join her on walks, showing you the critters she had found in the garden with a bright smile. 

It was nice. It felt like she finally had a friend that accepted her for who she was. 

She would come to you after her husband had drunkenly taken her, only allowing you to wash her. And you, in turn, was the one supporting her through her two pregnancies. 

You helped her at every turn, helping her dress and bathe and getting her the cakes she was constantly craving.

And every single time her face would light up, it meant the world to you. 

You watched fondly as she ate, her free hand pressed against her swollen stomach.

“This is the final dragon, I hope,” she told you, you nodding slowly. 

“Another perfect dragon for you to adore,” you replied, one of your hands tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You smiled softly when you saw she was wearing the earrings you had gifted her.

“It is a boy,” she told you, her confidence in the gender obvious in the way she spoke. You pressed a hand on her stomach as well. 

“You haven’t been wrong before.”

“I have not,” Helaena said to you, “I know it is a boy. Maelor.”

You just nodded again, more focused on your princess than on any future baby names. 

“A lovely name, princess,” you agreed with her, your eyes meeting hers. Helaena just nodded, glad to have your approval.

“I dreamt of him,” she explained further, “a strong boy. I believe he will be much like me.”

“I hope so,” you admitted softly, “though no one is as lovely as you, princess.”

She fell silent then, and blushed. 

-------

Six years later, Helaena didn’t have any more children. And she was quite content. She had three beautiful children she raised well, and a lady in waiting close to her that she adored so much.

In those six years, Helaena would barely be seen without you with her. If it wouldn’t be far too inappropriate, she would even prefer it if you slept by her side. Just to hold her close, of course, nothing else. Doing anything else with you… heavens forbid.

She flushed heavily, fanning herself.

You looked up at her, your head tilting a bit. “Is everything alright princess?” you asked softly, sweetly. Helaena shook her head, waving your concerns off. She mumbled something you didn’t understand, looking at the blush pink dress you were wearing. It looked lovely on you, she thought. She was lost in thought for a moment, remembering the diamond necklace she had. It would look wonderful with the dress you were wearing.

Both of you looked up when Aegon entered, her husband halting and looking around the chamber.

“Where are the children?” he asked Helaena, not seeing them playing. But Helaena stayed silent, looking back at her embroidery.

“They are outside,” you told the prince, standing up and walking over to the window. He followed, standing beside you and looking out. 

And there they were, all three, playing outside in the gardens. He wanted to complain, but he saw their maids sitting close by, and three knights clearly guarding them. So he couldn’t.

“I see,” he murmured, turning his face so he could look at you for a moment. 

“And what are you doing? Surely the day is too nice to be sitting here inside… embroidering?” he nearly purred, leaning closer. “Perhaps we could… find something else to do.”

You swallowed heavily, looking back at Helaena. “I only wish to accompany my princess,” you said softly, looking back at Aegon. 

He knew how loyal you were to his wife, always somewhere around her.

His eyes glinted as he got an idea.

“Of course,” he just said, leaning closer so his lips were next to your ear. “You are a very loyal submissive indeed.”

You felt his teeth nip your earlobe, your skin heating up. He smirked, turning to exit the chamber.

Helaena looked back at you, a confused look swimming in her purple eyes. You just shook your head. 

“Do not worry, my princess,” you said sweetly, walking to her and holding her hands. They were warm in yours, and she allowed you to hold them. 

“I believe your brother has… ideas.”

You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, before ringing the bell to have her tea refreshed. 

-----

You always arrived at your princess’ chamber when she had gotten ready for bed. You would read to her, or you would simply talk. Aegon knew this. He knew this as he rushed to Helaena’s chamber, knowing you wouldn’t be there just yet. 

He opened the door, Helaena seated in her bed and her head snapping towards the direction of the door. She slumped back down against her pillows when she realised it was Aegon and not you.

Aegon slowly closed the door behind him, stalking towards her.

“What do you want?” she asked him, not looking at him. Her hands trailed over the spine of the book you were reading to her, the texture soothing her a bit. 

“So hostile,” Aegon replied, kicking his boots off and crawling onto the bed towards her. “You are still my wife, are you not?”

He pressed his lips against hers, the feeling of her familiar and soft. He groaned softly, nipping her bottom lip. She sighed softly, Aegon tugging the blankets a bit further down.

He paused.

“What is this?” he asked her, seeing her in a lavish nightgown he had never seen before. “You wear this to bed?”

Helaena blushed, turning her head away. “I needed new ones,” she murmured, not meeting his eye.

“Needed new ones? This… extravagant?” He looked at her for a long moment, before a smile formed on her lips. 

“Did you wear this for a certain lady?” he asked lowly, Helaena’s eyes widening as she looked at him. 

“N-no-!” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I-I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

But Aegon’s smirk never faltered, the man leaning his head down and pressing sloppy kisses to her throat and collarbone.

“If you want her,” he mumbled, “then have her.”

Helaena moaned at his words, his words putting far too many images into her head. Aegon laughed at the response she gave him, his sister’s attraction to you far too obvious. 

“I’d like her too…” he murmured, slipping her nightgown down her shoulders and freeing her breasts. “Perhaps we can make a little arrangement?”

He ducked his head, pressing kisses to her breasts and sucking softly on her nipples. 

And then you entered, exactly at the same time you always did. And you froze.

A soft gasp made them both look up, you quickly turning your back towards them.

“I am sorry!” you said quickly, your entire body feeling like it was one fire. “I didn’t… I-I should have knocked-”

You wanted to leave, but Aegon’s voice commanded you to stay. 

You slowly turned, barely daring to peek at your princess in such a state of undress. 

Aegon smiled lazily, not even bothering to hide his arousal from you. 

“Yes, my prince?” you asked weakly, your eyes finding Helaena’s own wide ones. She didn’t cover up, Aegon proudly keeping her nightgown pulled down. Her hair was undone, as it always was when you came to visit her, but it was more unruly this time. Your eyes finally drifted down a bit more, taking in her exposed breasts, her pink nipples glistening a bit--probably from her husband’s attentions. 

“I can tell my wife likes you very much,” Aegon said, making your eyes snap into his direction. “And you like her too, don't you?”

You stayed silent, your voice caught in your throat. Aegon moved his hand, cupping Helaena’s bare breast more firmly. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, smiling when he noticed your eyes drifting to where he was touching Helaena, “she is quite something.”

You could only look at the way Helaena was staring at you--her eyes slightly lidded, her lips parted. You swallowed heavily again, unable to look away.

“And there is nothing I like more than not one, but two gorgeous ladies in my bed.”

You looked back at the prince, his implications hanging clear in the air. You looked at Helaena again, noticing almost a pleading look in her eyes.

You knew you couldn’t say no. Not only because the prince wasn’t asking, but commanding, but also because you knew you couldn’t let your princess down. 

And deep down you knew you could never be with her otherwise.

“If the princess wishes it…” you said softly, looking between the siblings, lingering on Helaena.

Helaena just nodded slowly, causing a bright grin to spread on Aegon’s lips. 

“Good wife,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Then, he looked back at you, one of his hands now resting on his arousal.

“Undress,” he ordered you, watching expectantly. You did as the prince ordered, though you didn’t look at him. As you undid the laces of your gown, you only looked at your princess, who was watching intently.

The fabric loosened before sliding down your body and pooling around your feet.

Aegon purred, standing up and walking towards you. “Beautiful,” he mumbled, his hands sliding over the thin shift covering your skin, before he tugged on it.

“Undress, girl. Completely,” he ordered a bit more sternly. He walked over to a small table to the side, grabbing himself a glass of wine and downing it almost fully.

He stared as you bared yourself to the prince and princess, goosebumps rising on your skin. You looked back at Helaena, seeing her stare at you the same way she looked at her favourite butterfly.

“Princess,” you whispered softly, a moan almost escaping her. Aegon watched the both of you, finishing his wine before pouring himself another glass.

“Well?” Aegon said, “Go to your princess.”

Your legs moved before you could even register his words. You walked to the plush bed, slowly crawling towards the princess on it. “Helaena,” you whispered, your hands hovering above her waist for a moment. 

You felt conflicted. You wanted to make your princess feel good, validated, loved. But this almost felt like a perverted show for her husband. 

“Talk to me, sweet girl,” you said again, loud enough so only she could hear. Helaena looked down at your lips for a split second, something that caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Do you want this, too?” you asked again, deciding to settle for just touching her soft hair. Helaena nodded after a moment, causing a small smile to form on your lips. You leaned closer, feeling a bit bolder.

“Do you want… me?” Helaena’s heart stuttered at your words, her lower lip now caught between her teeth. 

“I do,” she whispered, and you kissed her immediately. One of your hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her closer, the other moving towards her waist. 

She tasted sweet, innocent in a way. She almost seemed to drown in your deep kisses, overwhelmed by the affection. You helped her slide the nightgown off, pressing kisses down her sternum, moving to her stomach.

“Beautiful,” you breathed out, seeing a flush appear on her cheeks. “Did you wear this for me?”

Helaena just nodded breathlessly, your words and praises made her feel dizzy in the best way. 

“I feel honoured,” you mumbled, crawling back up her body and pressing another kiss to her lips. You lost yourself in her, feeling her impossibly soft skin, her soft hair, hearing her soft sighs and moans. You loved her. Your princess.

You both parted when you heard someone clearing their throat, both of you remembering Aegon was still here. 

You sat back on your heels, Helaena unable to even look away from you as you looked at the prince. 

“Quite a display,” he said, clearly a bit intoxicated already. He slowly sauntered over to the bed as well, kicking off his breeches and smallclothes. You watched the prince undress, feeling Helaena’s hand grasp yours. 

She wanted to kiss you again, wanted to feel your hands on her skin. And mostly, she wanted to hear you praise her more. Aegon never praised her during…

She softly whined your name, causing you and Aegon both to look at her. Aegon smiled at his wife’s eagerness, finding it quite… cute in a way. And arousing.

You moved closer to her again, Helaena whimpering until you kissed her again. Your arms slid around her, Helaena moving one of her legs astride of your thighs. 

She was so wet, you could feel it against your skin. You let out a shaky breath, your hands squeezing her waist. “My princess,” you moaned out, adjusting so she could press herself harder against you. Helaena whimpered again, slowly grinding against your thigh now.

“That’s it,” you encouraged her, “that’s a good girl.”

Aegon slowly moved closer, watching the way his wife was grinding so eagerly--so wantonly--against her precious lady in waiting. 

He settled behind her, pressing kisses along her neck and shoulderblade. Helaena mewled out, overwhelmed by the sensations. 

Aegon grabbed her waist and pulled her off of you, placing her on her back. He kissed her, a lot less gentle and sweet than you had. You squeezed her hand, a silent way to still claim her.

He grabbed the base of his cock, teasing her for just a moment before pressing inside of her. He groaned, bottoming out and pressing his face in the crook of her neck.

“Soaked,” he mumbled into her skin, you moving to lie closer to her. You tilted her face towards you, pressing a kiss to her lips. She sighed into it, gasping when you grabbed one of her breasts. 

“My princess,” you whispered again, “looking so beautiful while drowning in pleasure.” 

You pinched her nipple, sliding your tongue between her lips when she moaned again. Aegon started moving inside of her, lost in his own little world. 

“Oh-” Helaena moaned out, finally finding her voice, “I-it feels… I feel so…” you kissed her again, sliding your hand down her stomach until you found the soft thatch of white curls. 

“Tell me,” you whispered to her, your fingers sinking lower until you found her clit. 

“Ah-!” she gasped out, her back arching, Aegon groaning out when she got tighter. “I feel… I feel so-so much-”

You trailed your kisses down her throat, your own hips bucking against nothing as you grew more and more desperate yourself. 

“Please,” Helaena managed to moan out, “please… more…”

You and Aegon moved in sync, him speeding up, your fingers rubbing even tighter circles against her clit. 

“Come for me,” you said against her lips, your eyes staring right into hers. “Come for me, princess.” 

She just whimpered the knot inside of her growing tighter and tighter and…

You leaned your head down to suckle on her nipple, Helaena’s hand tightening around yours, her other hand on Aegon’s shoulder, her nails digging into his skin.

“Fuuuck-” the prince moaned, stilling deep inside of her as he came hard, his cum flooding her insides.

Helaena moaned loudly, clenching tightly around him as she came. Her back arched prettily, the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes rolling down her cheeks. 

And she looked gorgeous.

You watched intently as she came, wanting to burn the image into your eyes. Your fingers slowed on her pearl before completely withdrawing, Helaena whining and whimpering.

You held her close, muttering soothing words and praises as Aegon pulled out, the prince mumbling something before moving off the bed.

Helaena buried her face in the crook of your neck, and you held her close. 

“My beautiful princess,” you breathed out, littering kisses on the top of her head. “You did so well. Took all we gave so perfectly.”

Helaena took her time coming down from her high, breathing in your soothing scent. It frightened her, how much she needed you. How much she truly cared for you. Her own lady, her best friend. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispered finally, looking into your eyes with her own lidded gaze. “I couldn’t bear it if you left now.”

You smiled sweetly, kissing the tip of her nose. “I wouldn't dream of it,” you replied, soothing her nerves. Helaena smiled in return, nuzzling back into your arms. She knew she shouldn't feel this way about you, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to. It had felt so right, so perfect. 

You kissed her again, softer this time. 

“Allow me to clean you up,” you said softly, gently removing yourself from her embrace. You looked between her legs, seeing the mess Aegon had left. You quickly set a mental reminder to bring her moontea in the morning. Just in case. 

You returned after a short moment, carrying a soft cloth damp with lukewarm water. You tapped her thigh, and she parted her thighs instinctively, baring herself fully to you. She had no shame, not now, not with you. Only a profound sense of trust, of belonging.

“Good girl,” you praised her again, making her flush and smile lazily. 

“Thank you,” she murmured when you placed the cloth down after cleaning her, her arms opening up so you could cuddle her again. “For joining this eve. For… for making me feel so amazing.”

You cuddled her close, this time your princess capturing your lips. 

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, leaning closer, “even without the prince.”

Helaena giggled, nuzzling closer when Aegon entered again. He had freshened himself up, clearly ready to sleep.

“What are you birds giggling about?” he asked, slipping underneath the bed sheets. He watched you both with lidded eyes, smiling when he heard his wife laughing so happily. It had been a long time since he had seen her this pleased.

“None of your concern, brother,” Helaena hummed, sighing contently as she buried herself in your embrace. She felt Aegon nuzzle against her back, her husband pressing a soft kiss to her shoulderblade. He was already drifting off, both of you not focused on his presence, too focused on each other. 

“Just us,” Helaena whispered to you, kissing your cheek.

“Next time just us.”