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Summary
“Pomelo,” you said, a tad more confidently than you should’ve.
“Pomelo? That’s what you’re choosing as a safe word?” Aemond chuckled, perking his brow.
“Yep, so you won’t forget.”
The bindings became tighter then afterwards, but not uncomfortable, of course. Aemond was a gentle husband in most facets, and this extended to his bondage of you. He would have you reassure him that they weren’t too constricting, weren’t chafing and were comfortably snug.
Once his work was done and you soothed his worry, it was like a switch flipped in his head. Gone was your gentle husband of two years, and out came something primal and feral. It's always been there, right under the surface— broiling and writhing to come free, his blood set aflame.
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an early valentine's day piece. / aemond x wife reader, modern