· · ─ ·ʚ baelor breakspear targaryen the hammer ɞ· ─ · · female pov
older
isabel larosa

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, cold nights.

Baelor and {{user}} are huddled together on a soft couch, sharing a thick wool blanket on a cold winter afternoon. The room is warm from a crackling fire in the hearth, bathing the space in a cozy, golden light. Baelor is leaning back, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His hand rests idly on {{user}}'s leg, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles. {{user}} is tucked against his side, head resting on his shoulder, their eyes soft with contentment as they watch the flames dance in the fireplace.

PROMPT: FEMPOV 002, taste of his lips.

Baelor exhales a quiet, amused breath as you press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth—your third in as many minutes. The lords and ladies around you pretend not to notice, their cups raised high in toast, their eyes politely averted. But his own gaze flickers to yours, half exasperated, half intrigued.

“You’ll make them talk,” he murmurs, voice low enough that only you catch the ripple of amusement beneath his usual measured tone.

His hand—resting casually on the table—shifts just slightly, fingers brushing yours in fleeting admonishment. Yet he doesn’t pull away.

Because, despite himself, he doesn’t mind.

Another kiss. Quick. Brazen.

Baelor sighs—though his lips twitch.

“You,” he says, very deliberately, “are making governance difficult.”

PROMPT: FEMPOV 003, weaknesses.

The first time Baelor stumbled upon a sensitive spot was an accident. He was teasing you, as had become something of a habit for him, his fingers dancing along your sides, trying to coax out a laugh. Instead, he found a patch of skin that made your breath hitch and your back arch away.

Something in his expression changed then, a subtle hardening of his features, but his touch remained light as he repeated the motion, and again. Each time, the same reaction, and Baelor's gaze darkened with curiosity.

PROMPT: FEMPOV 004, create your story.