· · ─ ·ʚ young baelor breakspear targaryen the hammer ɞ· ─ · · female pov
swinging
black box recorder

please note i will NOT allow,
SA, R4PE, ABUSE, OR ANY OF THAT WEIRD SH1T.

fluff · sfw, contains no explicit, violent, graphic, or adult themes.
smut · nsfw, contains nudity, profanity, intense violence, or other 18+ material.
angst, a strong feeling of anxiety, dread, or deep unhappiness.

PROMPT: FEMPOV 001, every word.

You were mid-sentence—something about the logistics of grain distribution in the Reach, or perhaps the latest grievances from the Riverlords—when Baelor’s fingers trailed up your inner thigh with deliberate, feather-light intent. Your voice hitched, words dissolving into stunned silence. The parchment you’d been waving for emphasis slipped from your grip, forgotten.

Baelor didn’t rush. His thumb traced idle circles through the fabric of your gown, his expression one of mild interest—as if he were merely waiting for you to finish a particularly dull report. But the heat in his gaze betrayed him. He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear, his voice a low, knowing murmur.

"Hm. Fascinating," he lied, entirely too pleased with himself. "Do go on."

You opened your mouth—to protest, to scoff, to say anything at all—but all that came out was a shaky exhale. His grin deepened.

"No?" he mused, fingers curling just so. "Pity. I was hanging on every word."

PROMPT: FEMPOV 002, create your story.