Domme!Brienne of Tarth please, there’s not enough of her in fics 😭
Smut please! Maybe reader is a princess/lady (18/19/20 y/o) who is known for her rude attitude and brattiness. Brienne is assigned to chaperone and guard her (in general or on a trip) and grows increasingly more frustrated with the reader’s rude behavior. At some point she snaps, pins the reader against something by her throat, and discovers that the apparent way to make the princess behave is by overpowering her, as she’s become very flustered/aroused. Bonus points for biting, choking, degradation, etc! Anger sex my beloved <3
Thanks for the request! I'm always up for Brienne smut. I tweaked it just a little, but I think the main gist remained and I hope you like it! (also I was deliriously tired when I edited this so if you see mistakes, no you didn't hehe).
not so friendly sex (nsfw)
Pairing: dom!Brienne x princess!reader Words: ~3.8 k | ao3 link in title Warnings: smut (minors dni), rough sex - choking, biting, spitting, degradation
Dawn broke on the horizon, creeping in through the window in the room of the little inn you were staying at, inching along the ground, getting a bit farther with each minute until the first rays of light finally caressed your face. It would have been a slow, peaceful way to wake up, cradled gently by the day ahead — were it not for the voice at your bedside ripping you from your dreams.
“We are leaving soon, my lady.” The words were soft, innocuous but the voice was harsh, and even in your dazed state you bristled at the acidic tone.
Brienne of Tarth had been in your mother’s service for years and, at first, the two of you had gotten along. You hadn’t interacted much directly, but she was always cordial with you, and, in a way, you looked up to her — she fascinated you: your complete opposite, a woman unlike any you’d ever met. For reasons you could only guess, however, that dynamic had begun to change. Over time, any fond feelings she may have held towards you had slipped away entirely.
You assumed she was jealous — jealous that you were a princess, that you were conventionally attractive, that you caught the eye of most of the boys (and some of the girls) who passed through your father’s kingdom. As you became older, blossomed, entered into courtships, Brienne seemed to harden as soon as you entered the room, to close herself off to you entirely. It was true that she was always dutiful, a little stiff, composed, but there was almost a hint of contempt on her face whenever you passed — that is, if she even took notice of you at all.
And now, she was assigned by your mother to accompany you on a trip South to meet a Dornish prince. It would have given you some sort of perverse pleasure, Brienne having to protect you when she probably secretly wished you’d disappear altogether — if it didn’t mean that you were forced to deal with her sour attitude day in and day out.
You pried your eyes open and they fell upon the warrior, standing tall at the door to your room, her armor reflecting the morning sun and her hands clasped behind her back.
“You’d look far better if you didn’t frown so much.” You couldn’t help but to provoke her a bit, getting a twisted sense of pleasure from the way the subtle creases on her face deepened.
“I’ll do as I please.” Brienne never quite took your bait, and it annoyed you — she was all work and no play, and she never let any cracks in her armor show. You wondered, sometimes, if she had any feelings at all, aside from, perhaps, the sort of detached disdain she seemed to hide behind. “If we don’t leave soon, we may have to add another day to our travels, my lady.”
Rolling your eyes, you sat up and made a show of slowly stretching out your limbs. “Yes, of course, Ser, I’ll be ready in five.”
A muscle in Brienne’s jaw twitched at your mocking tone. “I’m not a knight,” she muttered.
Of course you knew this.
And you knew it was a sore spot for her.
And you didn’t really care.
“Pity,” you drawled, standing and dismissing her with a wave of your hand. Brienne closed the door behind herself with a little more force than necessary, the bang echoing off the bare walls of the room.
It left a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t like you hated Brienne — in fact, you had once liked her a great deal. It was more so that you wished she liked you. So it wasn’t out of spite that you took ages to get ready, lost in your thoughts and dreading having to spend another day alone with her.
As you made your way out of the inn, you saw Brienne standing by your horses, her lips downturned and her brow wrinkled. She looked up at the sound of your footsteps.
“Your horse is injured.”
You froze. “Pardon me?”
“Your horse. Is injured.” Brienne repeated slowly.
“I’m not daft. How are we getting to Dorne now?”
Brienne’s lip twitched at the faint whine in your tone and she gestured to her own horse. “We have one good horse, we’ll both need to ride her.”
Your nose wrinkled before you could help yourself. “Surely there must be something we can do?”
“Unless you’d like to walk,” Brienne grit out, “which I do not recommend if you’d like to arrive before the end of the month. You’ll have to ride with me. My lady.” The way she added the last two words, as a mumbled afterthought, made you bristle.
“Just what I need,” you muttered under your breath, unaware that Brienne heard you, unaware of the cold shower going through her even as she remained stoic as ever and mounted the steed. You expected her to offer you a hand in getting on behind her — it’s how you were used to being treated, after all.
She didn’t.
With an exaggerated huff meant to make Brienne aware of your displeasure, you pulled yourself up behind her.
“You’ll want to hold on.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Brienne snapped the reins more forcefully than you were used to, setting the steed into motion so abruptly that you nearly slid right off its back, your hands flying to Brienne’s waist to catch yourself.
“Watch it,” you hissed. You didn’t have to see Brienne’s face to know she was rolling her eyes.
“I told you to hold on.”
“You did that on purpose.”
Your remark was met with the cold shoulder, which Brienne gave you for most of the morning. You held her waist as loosely as you could, your hands barely brushing the armor — whenever you tried to let go entirely, Brienne would subtly change pace to make a point, your complaints falling upon deaf ears.
~~~
Brienne felt a rush of satisfaction every time you nearly slid off the horse, if only because it meant that she was right and you were facing the consequences of not listening to her. The satisfaction soon gave way to a niggling sense of guilt, however — she shouldn’t be feeling like this, not about the woman she was supposed to be protecting.
How she did feel about you, Brienne did not quite know. There was just something about you that riled her up, that managed to push every single one of her buttons and then some. There was an arrogance in the way you dismissed each and every one of your potential suitors after mere weeks, or even days, that got under Brienne’s skin — you should be grateful, she thought, for she’d once have given up everything to have someone actively pursue her, chase her, want her, let alone someone with wealth and power, someone who would have made her father proud.
And here she was, accompanying you to see a Dornish prince whom you had a good chance of marrying, and all you’d done since hitting the road was complain — about the journey, about your companion, about the prince himself, even though you did not yet know him.
She didn’t understand it.
She didn’t understand you.
And, perhaps most importantly, she didn’t understand why she cared so much.
After all, it was only a matter of time before one of the courtships would turn into something more — perhaps even this prince in Dorne — and then you’d be married off, and Brienne would hardly see you again.
And yet, every time you dismissed the notion of love and courtships and marriage, and every time you mocked Brienne for her views on the matter, or for her appearance, or for her status as a not-knight, something inside Brienne twisted. She was used to dealing with frustrating people, used to being dismissed and made fun of, but it hurt more when it came from you, and Brienne could not fathom why.
By the time dusk kissed the horizon that evening, the two of you were still too far from any sort of inn, so Brienne found herself pitching a tent and lighting a small fire in the woods. You were of little help to her, and what irritated Brienne most was the fact that you weren’t incapable at all — you just chose to sit by and watch as Brienne huffed, wiping beads of sweat off her forehead from bustling around.
“You could at least make yourself useful and skin the rabbits for dinner while I set this up,” Brienne growled under her breath, shooting an icy glare in your direction. She was done with pleasantries, done with “perhaps”s and “please”s and “my lady”s. It was as though you were making her life harder on purpose, and she was tired.
“That’s alright, I’m not hungry,” you mumbled dismissively, and Brienne felt her blood turn to lava at your tone.
“Useless,” she spat out, missing the brief flash of shock on your face — it was the first time she’d pushed back in such an obvious way and insulted you so directly. Brienne considered forcing you to help her, though she pushed down the urge — she was, after all, in your mother’s service and, by extension, in your service, at least for the duration of this trip.
So she settled for the next best thing: ignoring you entirely.
If she could pretend you were not there, then nothing could get to her. And then it would just be two more nights, three if she was very unlucky, and you’d have arrived in Dorne, where Brienne could once again put a respectable distance between herself and you.
You ignored Brienne just as she ignored you, and the two of you went to sleep as darkness blanketed the forest, you in the shelter of the tent, Brienne just outside of it underneath the stars.
Exhausted from riding all day, Brienne slept a bit deeper than usual, and so she didn’t notice when you snuck out of the tent, heading a bit deeper into the forest. It was only a few minutes later, as you edged your way back to the small camp, a twig snapping beneath your feet, that Brienne woke with a start, her fingers curling automatically and with a practiced ease around the hilt of her sword, the comfortable weight settling in her palm as she sprung to her feet and brandished the blade in front of her.
“Who’s there?”
Another twig snapped and some leaves rustled, and Brienne saw the outline of a person coming towards her — she lunged forward, leading with her sword, her body reacting before her eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness.
“Hey, watch it!” Brienne froze, her brow furrowing in confusion at the familiar, feminine voice floating towards her on the breeze. “My father will have your head if you nick me with that thing.”
Brienne’s shock gave way to fury in an instant and her sword clattered to the ground as her gaze settled on your form, strolling towards her as if you hadn’t a care in the world.
“What in the seven hells are you doing out in the woods?” she hissed, advancing towards you.
“I had considered running away, but thought better of it.” Sarcasm dripped easily from your tongue, which only fuelled the fire coursing through Brienne’s veins like molten lava. “If you must know, I was relieving myself. Ser.”
There it was, you were mocking her, again, and before Brienne could think better of it she reached out, her hand closing around your throat, her body pressed flush against yours as she pinned you to a tree just behind you.
“Watch. Your. Tone.” She glowered at you, her head tilted down, her large hand still curled around your throat, fingers at your jaw forcing you to meet her gaze.
She felt you swallow against her palm. Your eyes darted between her own, sparkling like jewels in the darkness, and your lips were parted but, for once, there were no smart words, no witty remarks spilling out from them. Just ragged breaths that hit Brienne’s own lips in short puffs and made her realize just how close her face was to your own.
“You should have woken me,” Brienne started, her words as sharp as the blade of her sword, her own breath fanning across your face as she spoke. “You could have put yourself in danger going out into the woods alone in the middle of the night. I will not let you jeopardize my position like this again.”
She expected some sort of comeback from you, an insult, an excuse, anything. The last thing she expected was the flush rising in your cheeks, the way your body seemed to go limp against the tree — and not from a lack of oxygen, as Brienne was careful not to cut off your air supply fully. You looked intently up at her, and then your tongue darted out to wet your lips — Brienne watched as it poked out from between plush, pink lips, which then glistened faintly, and suddenly Brienne was beginning to feel a completely different kind of heat fill her stomach and rush towards her groin.
“Open your mouth,” she said hoarsely, not recognizing her own voice, unsure what drove her to speak in the first place.
To her surprise, you complied in an instant, your lips parting further, your gaze fixed intently on Brienne’s mouth. You seemed to shiver in anticipation, and it made goosebumps rise on Brienne’s arms. She looked into your mouth and, in that moment, her restraint snapped — she spit onto your tongue.
“Swallow.”
You swallowed. Your lips closed, your throat bobbed against Brienne’s hand. A thrill shot up her spine and her brow furrowed as her eyes searched for yours again, a moment of uncertainty hitting her — this was entirely uncharted territory between the two of you, and she expected to see your usual guarded disdain for her in your eyes. Instead, she was met with dilated pupils, a soft look of want and submission that completely shattered her inhibitions.
She leaned down and crashed her lips to yours.
~~~
You couldn’t help the guttural moan that sounded from deep within your chest as you felt Brienne’s lips descend upon yours — finally, you thought, for the moment you felt them against your own, you had the feeling that it was exactly Brienne’s lips, and nothing else, that you had been waiting for your entire life.
Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands flew to her waist as you kissed her back eagerly and deeply — she froze briefly at the unexpected touch, but quickly melted against you again, her body pressed so tightly against your own that it held you up against the tree. You clawed at her shirt, fisting at the fabric with a desperation you’d never felt before, an attraction you didn’t know you were capable of feeling drawing you to the taller woman like a magnet.
This is a kiss, you thought to yourself, and you decided in that moment that you never wanted to be kissed by anyone else in any other way.
Brienne’s hand tightened around your throat, briefly cutting off your air supply, and you squirmed a bit, gasping for air against her lips. It didn’t frighten you, however — even though you knew Brienne probably could kill you with her bare hands, you had a feeling she wouldn’t. Armed with that knowledge, you felt yourself grow damp.
The pressure on your throat let up, replaced by a sharp, unexpected sting at the center of your lower lip.
“Did you just bite me?” you found yourself asking in shock, your eyes shooting open. Brienne’s own eyes were black, you couldn’t tell where her pupils ended and her irises began.
“Shut up.” She nipped at your lips again before kissing you even harder than the last time, her hand releasing your throat so that she could grip your hips and draw your pelvis towards her own.
With Brienne’s hands as your guide, you wrapped your legs around her waist, her own hands sliding beneath your thighs to support you. A deep growl resonated in her chest as your arms wrapped around her neck, and you felt one of her hands leave your thigh and snake its way between your bodies.
The skirt of your nightgown was pushed roughly aside, hiked up your hips as nimble fingers slipped beneath your underwear, quickly finding what they were seeking.
Seven hells, her fingers are long, you thought, as they sank into your heat, rendering your brain a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your eyelids fluttered and your cunt clenched around Brienne’s fingers, which was met by the feeling of teeth clashing roughly with your own.
The pad of Brienne’s thumb brushed against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips, and Brienne’s own lips brushed along your jaw, traveling lower until they found your pulse point. She nipped and sucked until you were sure there was a large bruise on the side of your neck, then soothed her tongue over the little indents her teeth had left. When she pulled her hot mouth away from your neck, the sudden cold made you shiver.
Her lips moved lower until they reached the hem of the nightgown, and Brienne’s free hand reached up to untie the bit at the front with trembling fingers, just enough to push the fabric down and free your breast. Her teeth sank into the soft flesh, leaving an angry red imprint. The more you whimpered and whined and groaned, the harder Brienne bit, her teeth finding your nipple, nipping gently — then soothing you with a lick, before biting again.
The rough bark of the tree behind had begun to hurt your back a little, scratching at your skin through the fabric of your nightgown. With a particularly quick thrust of relentless fingers, Brienne pushed you harder against the tree, and a bit of the bark tore through your clothing and nicked your shoulder blade — you yelped out in pain.
“Quiet.” Brienne’s voice was rough and gravelly, her tone leaving no room for argument. It turned you on immensely, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the warrior as your cum flooded her fingers, dripped down her hand.
Brienne shifted her weight and pulled you off the tree, her fingers still pumping rhythmically inside of you as her other hand held you against her, nails digging sharply into your ass. Your thighs tightened reflexively around her, your own nails finding purchase in her shoulders as you ground down on her fingers, biting your own lip in an attempt to keep quiet, just as Brienne had asked of you.
“Who knew a good fuck was all you needed to shut up?” she sneered, curling her fingers in such a way that they drew a muffled groan from your lips.
“Is that… what you want me to do? Shut up…?” you panted, and Brienne growled, slowing her pace inside of you.
“W-wait…” You could feel her fingers start to pull out of your cunt and you felt yourself clench desperately, as if trying to keep her fingers where they were. “P-please…”
“Please, what?” Her voice was cold and you felt tears of frustration well up in your eyes. You were so, so close…
“P-please don’t stop… please k-keep going… I’m sorry…” You had never begged anyone for anything like this before, a wave of humiliation bringing a deeper flush to your cheeks, forcing your tears over their threshold and down your cheeks.
“Brat,” Brienne snarled, but she resumed her ministrations, the pace of her fingers quickening, her thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure.
To give herself more leverage and take the pressure off her arms, Brienne pushed you roughly back against the tree again, the air rushing from your lungs at the contact — though through the haze of your impending orgasm you hardly felt the scratches the bark was leaving on your back.
Your fingers laced through Brienne’s hair, tightening around short, silken locks — Gods, was her hair soft — as Brienne’s hand curled around your throat again, using some amount of force to tilt your head to the side. Her lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, biting, sucking, marking as you rode out your high on her fingers.
She waited until you slumped against her, your grip on her hair loosening, before slowing her thrusts to a stop, pulling her fingers out of you, pressing them against your lips. “Suck.”
You did as you were told, and Brienne watched with fascination as your cheeks hollowed out, your tongue swirling obediently around her fingers sending a pang of arousal through her. Tears clung to your lashes and sweat dripped from your brow, and there was a string of saliva clinging to your lower lip when Brienne pulled her fingers from your mouth. She kissed you, long and hard, holding you against her as she stumbled backwards toward your little camp, getting on her knees a bit awkwardly and placing you on the fur she’d been lying on earlier.
You watched through half-lidded eyes as Brienne sparked the fire back to life, your chest still heaving, your muscles deliciously sore, your thighs sticking together with cum. It wasn’t until she knelt beside you and rolled you onto your side with your back to the fire that you felt the ache of the scratches the tree had left on your back.
“Shit…” Brienne traced a finger carefully along a scratch at your shoulder blade, where the bark had cut through your nightgown and directly nicked your skin, and you winced. “We’ll have to keep an eye on this one,” she murmured, her voice laced with something like remorse. It seemed, somehow, that the act of fucking you had drained all of the anger out of her, leaving some part of her naked, open, laid bare. With her guard down, she almost resembled the Brienne you’d once known.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell father,” you said with a smirk, rolling onto your back just in time to see the blush rising in Brienne’s cheeks. It suited her, you thought, showing vulnerability. The flickering light of the fire made her flushed skin glow, softened her features, danced in her eyes, turned her hair to molten gold. “You’re very pretty, you know…”
Pink turned to red and Brienne’s brow creased, her lips pulling into a disbelieving frown. “I would appreciate it if you would stop mocking me.”
It was your turn to frown. “I’m not mocking you. You are pretty. Beautiful, even.”
“Please,” she scoffed.
“Let me return the favor.”
Brienne’s eyes widened, her lips parting in what you could only assume was utter disbelief. She blinked. “Return… the favor?”
You let your gaze travel slowly down Brienne’s body, imagining what it would look like beneath her clothing. Muscular, you guessed, hard, but still womanly… your eyes lingered at her chest, her hips, and Brienne felt her cheeks might burst into flames.
“You don’t have to do that…” She tried to wave away your offer, even as you inched closer to her.
“Oh, but I want to… Ser…”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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