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[imthefemalemonster]

Short-haired Uncle Daddy Daemon Appreciation

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 1.04 “King of the Narrow Sea” // 1.05 “We Light the Way”

[imthefemalemonster]

Education

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond's betrothed lusts for her husband-to-be. To her surprise, those sinful feelings are mutual.

Rating: Explicit (18+/Minors DNI)

Warnings: NSFW, mutual masturbation, religious guilt, sexual inexperience, if you community label me i will be outside your house 🤨

Word Count: 2.9k

Check out my other works here! ❤️

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Anonymous Request: Because I just can’t help myself: Smut Dialogue Prompts: 10. "Spread your legs wider." 14. "Do you want my fingers?" 22. "Show me how much you need me.”

A/N: Oh man. This turned into a beast outside of my control and now I kinda want to write a part 2 ft. their wedding night??? Idk.

Tysm for the request & I hope you enjoy!! 🫣

~ Reblogging fics is the best way to support your favorite creators! Reblogs are highly appreciated, especially if you are on my tag list ~

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You never thought that betrothal to your love could be so painful. 

For the sake of propriety and tradition, you were only allowed to spend time with Aemond under the supervision of a chaperone or in the company of others and were seldom allowed even a chaste kiss, much to your dismay.

You were grateful for the moments you did get together, but you longed for the day he would call you wife and himself your husband.

You’d grown up with Aemond and were elated when you were promised to him. While you’d spent much time together before your betrothal in an amicable friendship, he now spent nearly all of his free time by your side, much to your delight.

He read to you, walked with you in the gardens, and even showed you the secret passages through the Red Keep, which he'd discovered in his youth.

You cherished every moment you spent with him, every whisper of his fingers on the back of your hand, and as your wedding date drew closer, your love for him only built, but lately, something else grew inside you too.

Desire.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt such a way, but you’d been taught from an early age that such thoughts were improper and not suitable for a lady of your status. 

You’d touched yourself to your peak over and over again to the thought of his hands and mouth against your body. You always found it difficult to look Aemond in the eye in the morning following, the guilt of your actions from the previous night clouding your mind.

As the son of Alicent Hightower, a devout follower of the Faith of the Seven, you doubted that his thoughts ever drifted to such lustful places, let alone indulging in such indecency. You felt guilty for making yourself come to the vision of his face in your mind’s eye and prayed to the Maiden for forgiveness frequently. 

As your wedding date drew nearer, you began to dream of him as well. Aemond above you, below you, inside you–more often than not, you would awake in the middle of the night, panting and drenched with sweat, your pussy throbbing from the phantom touches of your intended.

Now, two weeks from your wedding, you laid in your bed, your nightgown rucked up around your hips, small clothes discarded, and a hand between your thighs as had become a habit. 

So lost in your pleasure, you did not hear the hidden entrance of the passage behind your bookcase–one of the many Aemond had shown you–sliding open until it was too late. 

Your eyelids flutter distantly, hazily searching for the source of the quiet scraping, finally landing on your soon-to-be-husband, his eye wide and locked upon your body, lips parted in shock.

You jolt upright, scrambling to drag your nightdress down over your legs in a vain attempt to preserve your decency, your face burning with humiliation. 

“Prince Aemond,” you choked. “My apologies, I thought that I was alone for the evening,” your fingers curled into the blankets at your side, gripping them so tightly that your knuckles turned white. 

“It is I who should apologize,” he rasps, seeming unable to look away from you, his cheeks painted scarlet. “I did not warn you of my presence. I shall take my leave,” he steps back, turning from you swiftly, and you feel tears prick at your eyes. 

You had disgusted him.

He was the one thing you wanted most from life, and you were certain that after seeing you in such a state, he would desire you as his wife no longer.

You were impure.

Lecherous. 

“Please, do not ask my father to call off our wedding,” you manage to call after him weakly, a single tear trailing unbidden down your cheek. “My maidenhead is intact, I swear it, and I will be a good wife. This depravity is unbefitting of a lady, and I shall not do it again.”

He looks back at you slowly, his brow furrowed. “I would not call off our engagement over something so trivial as you indulging in pleasures of the flesh,” he says softly, halting his retreat. 

“It is a sin,” you half-whimper, dropping your gaze to your hands. 

“We are all sinners,” he replies, daring to glance back at you. After a beat, he takes a step toward you.

“May I sit?” he gestures to the couch off to the side of your bed, and you nod silently, hesitantly looking at him again.

“You should know that I am not innocent of such things either,” he tells you. “Would it ease your mind if I told you of my sins?” he asks, settling back against the cushions and crossing his legs. 

When you shake your head in affirmation, the corner of his mouth tips up, hinting at a smile. 

“Very well,” he begins. “I suppose I should start with my wrath and envy,” he drums his fingers on his knee. “I have never forgiven Lucerys Velaryon for taking my eye, nor my father for his refusal to punish him for it,” he wets his lips, studying you.

“I envy every person with two eyes, and most of all, I envy my brother for the freedom he is given as a firstborn son while I toil day and night with no acknowledgment,” he continues. 

“But as of late, there is one sin of mine that far surpasses them all: I lust,” his pale eye darkens at his revelation, watching for any sort of reaction from you. 

You inhale slowly through your nose. 

“I confess, this is not an offense with which I am familiar,” he continues, his voice thick in his throat. “It has arisen only recently, as my thoughts have become consumed with anticipation for the night we are to be married. When I will bed you.”

His words send a bolt down your spine, crackling like lightning, and your eyes widen, disbelieving. 

“I…I have not lain with a woman before, nor have I desired to. Not until you,” he confesses, eyes flicking over your features, observing your reaction. “I am relieved to find that you share those desires,” he murmurs, his grip on his knee tightening. “It makes me feel less guilty for wanting you so.”

“I picture your face when I reach my peak,” you blurt out before you can think twice about your words. “I have prayed to the Maiden to forgive me, but I…” you chew at your lower lip, “I cannot seem to stop.”

He seems to be at war with himself, his lips twitching with words that went unspoken, a debate raging inside his head over whether or not to speak. 

“We are to be wed,” he says after a moment. “I should hope that you think of only me, although I fear my lack of practice may leave much to be desired when I lay with you at last.”

“If it is you, I shall desire for nothing more,” you answer truthfully. 

“Still,” he intones lowly, “I would like to know how to bring you pleasure. Reading about the act in books can only provide so much insight.”

Your face burns again, this time in arousal rather than embarrassment.

“I should like to know how to please you as well,” you admit. “But we cannot touch each other until we are wedded.”

“You are right–decency demands that we cannot touch–although there is nothing to prevent us from...observing,” Aemond speaks again after a beat. “For the purposes of education,” he tacks on to the end of his sentence hurriedly, uncrossing his legs and allowing them to fall open lazily, his gaze never once leaving your face. 

“What are you saying?” you manage, voice breathy and faint. 

“Would you show me how you touch yourself, as you were earlier?” 

For the first time since you've known him, he seems hesitant, unsure.

“I can show you how I please myself too. An exchange of knowledge,” he reasons. He slides his large hand up from his knee and over his thigh until it comes to rest over the laces of his breeches. 

“Yes,” you answer with humiliating quickness, face burning at the proposition. “So that we may learn from each other.”

“Good,” he breathes in relief. “Lay back, as you were before I interrupted you. Show me how much you need me.”

Hands trembling with anticipation, you did as he asked, leaning back on your elbows. You reach down, tugging your nightdress upwards, as he unlaces his pants in tandem. 

You can see the large bulge straining against the fabric, and the sight alone makes your cunt throb. 

“Spread your legs wider,” he half-commands you, though his voice is tinged with uncertainty. “Let me see all of you, my Lady.”

You're already soaked from your previous attention to your aching pussy, and as you part your thighs, the chill of the air makes you gasp softly. 

Aemond dips a hand into his trousers, his eyelid fluttering and his lips parting slightly, watching you slide a hand between your legs, placing your middle finger delicately on your pearl, circling it slowly. 

“Do…do you put your fingers inside yourself?” he rasps, flushing a blotchy pink as he begins stroking himself inside his breeches, his hardened cock still hidden from your gaze.

You nod wordlessly, too flustered to speak. 

“Will you–?” his question goes unfinished, but you know what he is asking of you. Slipping your hand lower, you press a finger inside yourself, a sigh of satisfaction falling from your lips at the intrusion. 

Swallowing heavily, he withdraws his hand from his pants, spitting into his palm, before reaching back down, freeing his hard length from its confines, and stroking it slowly, smearing his saliva up and down it.

You watch with rapt attention, feeling yourself clench around your finger at the sight and a new flood of wetness dripping from you.

“Does it hurt?” you breathe, watching his cock with fascination.

It's long and thick, shiny with his spit as he fucks his hand slowly. It's pale, like the rest of him, the tip of it a soft pink, a drop of pearly liquid oozing from it. 

“Not when I touch it,” he answers you, a hunger in his eye that you had never seen before. “It feels…good.”

He swipes his thumb over the bead of white, spreading it over the head and mixing it with the slick of his saliva.

“It feels especially so here,” he groans, dragging his thumb over the tip again. “It gets so sensitive when it’s hard like this.”

You whimper at his explanation, curling your finger inside yourself, searching for the spongy spot within your walls. 

“Tell me what you are doing,” he requests, biting down on his lower lip. 

“There is…something inside me,” you whine. “A rough patch within my…my cunt,” you squeak out the lewd word. “It makes me feel—” searching for the right word, you trail off, crooking your finger and dissolving into a soft moan as you find the spot you were looking for. 

“It gives you more pleasure when you touch it?” he supplies, his voice rough. “The same way touching the tip of my cock makes me…feel more.”

You nod rapidly, stroking the spot slowly, barely trusting yourself to speak. 

He grunts, his hand stroking his cock a little faster, the slick sounds growing audible even though he was several feet away. 

As your pleasure grows, you slowly gain confidence in your movements, your embarrassment fading rapidly into bliss, sweat beading on your hairline and beneath your breasts. 

Removing your finger from your fluttering cunt, you return your slick-drenched finger to your bud, no longer bothering to suppress the little sighs that build in your throat. 

“Why did you take your fingers out?” he questions immediately, his eye darting rapidly between your face and your drenched folds. 

“My…my button here at the top,” you spread your lips with two fingers to show him. “Although it feels good to be inside, I can reach my peak from touching this alone.”

You circle it rapidly in a demonstration, eyes locked on his face, watching him watch you. His head falls back heavily onto the cushioned seatback behind him, sucking in an audible breath.

“Can you touch it and put your fingers inside you at the same time?” he manages, gripping tightly at the base of his cock, and tearing his gaze from your pussy to look into your eyes.

You nod rapidly, adjusting your pillows behind you to free up your other arm, continuing your ministrations on your clit and sliding two fingers from your opposite hand inside you with a cracked whine. 

“Do you…” you pause, trying to formulate your question. “Does touching your stones do anything?” you croak, referring shyly to his balls.

“Ye-es,” he looks incredibly flustered at your question but reaches down with his free hand to cup his balls, his position mirroring yours. 

“I have imagined your hands–your mouth too–upon my cock,” he admits weakly. “They are so much smaller and softer than mine. It would feel…” he seems at a loss for words but pumps himself harder at the fantasy, breathing raggedly through his flared nostrils. 

“Do you want my fingers as much as I want your hands?" he chokes, his previous uncertainty long gone, replaced with a feral aura that makes you feel as if your blood has caught fire.

You bob your head, words failing you again, bucking your hips against your hand. Your fingers are not enough. You want to feel the stretch of his thicker digits inside you, want to wrap your hands around his flushed length, and you whimper pathetically at the thought. 

“I need you,” you whine. “I need you to touch me, Aemond–please.”

You know he will not.

He is too duty-bound and devout to give in, but you can see from the desperate twist of his lip and the way he has begun to fuck up into his fist that he wants to.

“I cannot,” he wets his lips, swiping his tongue across them, panting harshly as more drops of his spend drip down his shaft, the wet sounds of his hand on his cock and your fingers inside your pussy blend in the quiet of the night in a lewd symphony.

“Just…can you just hold my hand?” you beg. “I will not touch your cock. I just need you close to me; I–”

“Yes,” he manages with only a moment of hesitation. “Yes, I can touch your hand–fuck.”

He releases his cock and stands, moving towards you and settling beside you on your bed, trailing his fingers down your arm. Even the faintest touch makes you clamp down around your fingers, and he reaches your wrist, careful not to make contact with your mound as he circles his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand from your clit and taking it in his own.

He resumes stroking his length, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in time with his fist. 

“You’re so perfect, my love,” he groans. “Such a temptress. When we are wed, you shall not leave our martial bed for a week–oh.” he breaks off into a throaty moan, squeezing down on your fingers so tightly that it almost hurts. 

“I would not dream of leaving,” you assure him, withdrawing your finger from inside you to rub your clit furiously, your peak fast approaching, “I would let you use my body however you see fit, my Prince–let you plant your seed inside me, let you do anything.”

“Seven–Seven hells,” his voice is low, his movements uncontrolled. “I’m close, my love, I’m going to–” his face is red from embarrassment and arousal, and you grip his hand, matching the intensity of his touch. 

“I’m–oh, Aemond,” you try to warn him that you’re coming, but you don’t get the words out in time. Your back arches, your hips rolling with abandon as your orgasm tears through you, rendering you incoherent. 

You can feel your cunt fluttering desperately, and your slick is dripping down your ass, no doubt leaving a puddle on your sheets beneath you, but you’re far past the point of caring. 

“Please,” you croak through the throes of your pleasure, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

“Fuck,” Aemond swears again, transfixed, “I want to bed you, to claim you–to breed you.” He lets out a choked cry as he spills over his hand, thick, pearly ropes of spend dripping over his cock and his fist, and your mouth falls open, seized by the lecherous desire to taste his seed. 

He presses your hand to his lips to stifle the grunts he makes as he comes, the pretty curve of his mouth firmly attached to your knuckles, his hips jolting unwillingly as he strokes himself through his peak.

You both come down slowly, the tension between you thick and heavy, the smell of sweat and arousal lingering. 

Staring at each other hungrily, you find, to your dismay, that this has not relieved your desire in the slightest. 

If anything, you want him more now, and you whimper softly at the realization, jerking your hand from between your legs, not trusting yourself to keep touching yourself, lest you pounce on him and beg him to take your maidenhead, propriety be damned. 

When he regains his breath, he leans forward, pupil blown wide, obviously wanting more as much as you do. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, his shaky exhalations fanning across your face. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on yours, his gaze boring into you with longing. He is silent for a moment, a war raging behind his eye, and then he speaks, voice hoarse and coated with need:

“The next time I spill my seed, my love, it will be inside you.”

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Aemond Tag List:

(If your @ is bolded, I was unable to tag you. Comment or send an ask to be added to the tag list! :))

@missusnora @babyblue-chaos @m-indkiller @star-dusst @jbaby2 @xceafh @julczimozart @warners-wife @a-beaverhausen @jaime-in-flannel @lauraneedstochill @meggiemay82 @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @boofy1998 @nika-sophie05 @lady-stark-winter-rose @schniiipsel @maximizedrhythms @w7kkio @caught-in-the-afterglow @hb8301 @candypurplebutterfly @melsunshine @namoreno @evisnotok @welcometothelioncage @nupppuff @ripdragonbeans @babyblue711 @partypoison00 @okfashionista @doingfondue @lilostif16 @atherverybest @watercolorskyy @yelenabeleovapocket @starsxmoonsx @joliettes @praline357 @remedyjoys @sweetsweetpsyche @throughgoeshamilton @aemondsdaemons @mxrgodsstuff @kyuupidwrites @alyssa23145678910 @aemonds-wifey

[imthefemalemonster]

Hey honey! I just finished reading your Daemyra x sugar baby reader and I don't usually like this thread but yours was awesome! That said, if you're still taking requests, can I get a part 2 where they go out to a club and reader teases Daem until he's maxed out and when they get home he punishes reader while Rhae watches please? (feel free to ignore)

I'm definitely still taking requests and I'm glad I've been converting people over to the dark side 😈 This is mostly Daemon x fem!reader centric; Rhae is just enjoying and peeping 👀

WC: 1.8

Warnings: Dom!Daemon, pinching, spanking, rough (unprotected) sex, dacryphilia, verbal humiliation, bratting, daddy kink, creampie, D/s vibes, bondage, voyuerism (also aftercare, yay!)

Champagne and Rubies verse

The music pulsed in the air and you could feel the vibrations under your feet as you knocked back your second glass of champagne.  Daemon lounged in the leather seats of the private area, chatting with one of his investors, who had a pretty woman curled against him.  You noticed his shiny wedding band and the lack of her own.  You were directly in Daemon’s eye sight as you pressed the front of your body against the cool railing in order to bend over a bit.  Your black bodycon dress crept up your thighs as you gave a little shimmy in attempt to move in time with the music.  When really all you were trying to do was let Daemon know you weren’t wearing any panties.  You had them on when you left the penthouse with him, but discarded them in the bathroom of the club earlier as he made his rounds.

A soft mewl came from your lips as he pushed against your ass.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Daemon growled as one arm looped around your waist in order to pull you flush against his chest.

“I’m dancing,” you smiled as his large hand fanned out against your stomach.

“You looked ready to fall off the balcony right after you tried to flash your pussy at me, and my guests,” he murmured as his hand inched further and further down.

“I put on a good show,” you laughed before you sucked in a sharp breath of air as his hand pushed under your dress.

“Now I distinctly remember you wearing underwear when we left, skimpy and red…made of silk.  What happened to them?”

“Must of have fallen off somewhere.”  He snorted and pulled his hand away then took a step back.  He took hold of your arm as he guided you over to the private couches.  “Bring her some water,” he whispered to one of the bottle servers.  “And more champagne!” you called out only to met with an annoyed look from him.

“I like the way she thinks, tequila as well,” the man said.  Karl? Kris? Who the fuck cared.  He only popped up every now and then so it didn’t really matter.  The woman wrapped around him gave you a wink as Daemon settled next to you.  The server returned with a fresh bottle of champagne, shots of tequila and some bottled water.  They poured the bubbling, golden liquid into the glasses and you reached out to grab one.  Daemon snatched your wrist then placed the bottle of water into your hand.

You rolled your eyes, but unscrewed the blue cap before you took a swig.  You let your head lean against his shoulder as you closed your eyes.  Your hand crept up his thigh, red fingernails scraping over the soft fabric of his black trousers, feeling the muscles underneath.  There it was….a soft hiss as your hand found what it sought.  You heard a giggle from the woman as you squeezed his bulge.  You opened your eyes and tilted your head to see Daemon’s jaw working slightly, but his fingers dug hard against the curve of your hip.  A smirk crept across your lips as you palmed him over his trousers.

“Jesus, Daemon, you’re lucky….”

His hand slipped down your hip, across your ass and you swallowed at the hard pinch he gave to the area.  That was definitely going to leave a mark and you knew he was pissed.  You pushed his hand away as you wiggled out of his embrace in order to stand on shaky feet in your black heels.  You tugged your dress down before you quickly downed one of the tequila shots and half a glass of champagne then grabbed the hand of the man’s companion.

“Dance with me, this is boring,” you said, the latter part came out in a spat as you quickly tugged her away.  You could feel Daemon’s eyes burning into your back as you guided her downstairs to the writhing bodies.

You pulled her close, fingers laced through hers as the two of you danced.  Bodies pressed tightly together as you shook your head a bit, letting your hair fly around your face.  You were already caught in the flames so might as well dance in the fire.  Two songs passed before you paused, daring to cast your gaze upward.  Daemon leaned against the railing, hands folded together as he watched.  His mouth was set in a thin line and you swore you could see the vein pulsating in his neck.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  The investor came down and looped his arm around the woman, giving you a wink. He gave Daemon a little salute before they left into the cold night air.  Time to go accept your fate.  Your legs felt like jelly as you climbed back up the staircase.

Words tried to tumble out of your mouth in form of an apology, but you didn’t get very far as Daemon pushed you against the wall.  His large hand tight and heavy against your throat.  You couldn’t avoid his angry gaze.  Under the sound of the music, all you could hear was the blood pounding in your own head and his heavy breathing.  Nothing else was said as his hand moved from your throat to your wrist as he dragged you out the back way.  You stumbled in your shoes like a newborn fawn before he shoved you into the passenger seat of the red Ferrari Stradale.  You sunk into the seat like a scolded, pouting child as he drove home.  Perhaps a bit too fast on the dark city streets.

Rhaenyra had been tucked into the bed with a book, enjoying the respite of peace and quiet when Daemon drug you behind him through the door.  You barely had time to catch your breath as he pushed you over the arm of the couch and bent down, yanking the high heels off your feet and sent them clattering across the floor.

“What’s going on?” Rhae asked as she padded into the living room, pulling her loose red robe around her. Her silver hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders.

“Our little brat was a fucking tease all night, and now she’s going to get exactly what she deserves,” Daemon growled as he pushed your dress over your hips while your toes scrambled for balance against the floor.  You worked your lower lip through your teeth as you felt his hard on press against the warm swell of your ass.

A little smirk crossed Rhaenyra’s lips as she took a seat on the couch.  “Please continue,” she hummed as you snapped your head up to scowl at her.  That look was quickly wiped off your face when Daemon’s large hand smacked against your ass, over and over.  Heat bloomed across both sets of cheeks as your hot face pressed into your hands.  He was merciless while you yelped as his hand connected against the tender spot he had pinched earlier.  Despite the pain and feeling his anger spilling onto you; your pussy was dripping.  You tried to turn your head when he stopped and you heard his belt pull through his loops before he tossed it to Rhaenyra.

You squeaked as she tugged your arms straight in front of you and secured the belt around your wrists, holding the loose end like a leash to keep you in place.  “If you want to act like a slut, I’ll treat you like one.  You want to be a little toy for our use?” Daemon whispered in your ear as he pushed the dress further up your body until it bunched over your bare breasts.  His large hands reached under you to cup your tits, scraping his short nails over the hard nubs of your nipples before they moved down the rest of your body.  You couldn’t see your ass but you’re certain it was red with raised marks of his hands and fingerprints.  It was throbbing just like your clit.  

You heard the drag of his zipper before his hands pulled your hips back as he is cock stretched you wide without warning.  He didn’t take his time, just made your pussy swallow him whole.  You could barely move as the dress trapped your shoulders and Rhaenyra kept you pinned down with her grip on the belt.  You were wet enough so it didn’t hurt terribly, just the burn of a stretch.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you blubbered out as tears dribbled down your cheeks.

“Aww is my pretty girl crying? Is she sorry for what she did?” Daemon taunted as he moved at a punishing pace then pushed you further over the arm so your toes didn’t touch the ground at all so he could watch your pretty, puffy, pussy swallow his cock with each thrust.

You could barely push out a response as you cried harder like the little baby you could be.  “Oh no, it seems our girls has lost her voice.  She’s not so bold now when she’s put in her place,” Daemon chuckled as he pulled you back against him.  Your sore ass connected with his pelvis as it felt like his cock might split you in two.  Your walls clenched around him while you tasted the salt of your own tears and a little bit of snot dribbled out of your nose.  He rocked forward and his cock hit the spot inside of you.  A twisted, wet mewl came from you before you felt his cum fill you up. You had your own orgasm in the aftermath.  His cock made a wet, slopping sound as he pulled out and you felt the thick, sticky mess dribble down your cunt and thighs. His large hands held you open while he watched.

Your body trembled as Rhaenyra undid the belt and rubbed your wrists with her soft hands.  Daemon gathered you into his arms, your dress still bunched around your top as you let out a wrecked little sob before you hid your face against his chest.  Tears and mascara stained his white button up dress shirt.

“My poor little crybaby, hmmm?  You’re such a treat when Daddy’s cock is taking you apart,” he teased as he carried you into the bedroom.  “I love those messy little tears of yours.”  Rhaenyra made her way into the bathroom, running a warm bath with the orange scented bubbles you loved.  Daemon placed you down as he worked your dress over your arms before he lifted you up again to gently settle you in the warm water.  Your mascara and eyeliner ran down your face in messy swirls of black ink, eyes puffy from crying and your lips swollen from biting down.  Daemon chuckled softly.

“My messy, pretty baby,” he cooed.  “Close your eyes.”

You did as instructed as he perched on the edge of the tub swiping the saturated cotton pads of micellar water gently across your eyes lids and the rest of your face to clean the mess away.  A nice soak later, you were swaddled in one of his shirts with a soothing layer of arnica cream across your sore bottom.  Rhaenyra had combed out and braided your hair as you found a safe cocoon between them, then let the exhaustion take over your body.

[imthefemalemonster]

[imthefemalemonster]

Now that we have touched on the subject of body worshipping Aemond… can you please write exactly that? I would also love it if Aemond was flustered or a little shy about it at first, just because I think he isn’t used to such adoration… but you’re like “no let me love you 🥺😡”

HERE YOU GO, MY DUDE, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. 18+ Word count: ~800

You look at Aemond as he sleeps peacefully in the early morning light. The bedsheets have slipped from his bare chest. His Adonis belt leads down to where they drape loosely over his hips - a tempting trail that promises infinite reward. Every scar, every minor imperfection serves only to amplify his ethereal beauty. His long white hair cascades like reams of silk across the pillows. It is rare you get to see him so relaxed. The nostrils of his aquiline nose are unflared, his brow is not furrowed with irritation. Even the scar that runs almost the entire length of the left side of his face seems less angry and inflamed.

It is only recently that he has become comfortable enough with you to remove his eyepatch in your presence. It happened around the same time that the pair of you became accustomed to sleeping nude together. A silent, but significant mark of your trust for each other.

You have been married less than a month and, though both inexperienced, you have enjoyed the thrill of clumsy fumbles and exploration of each other’s bodies that goes hand in hand with the excitement of young love. What the pair of you lack in familiarity with carnal acts of the flesh you more than make up for with enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn.

As your eyes roam his face and naked torso, you are driven by the desire to look upon what lies beneath the sheets. You crawl down the bed, and with a tentative hand you reach out and pull back the bed clothes.

Aemond’s cock lays soft against his slim, muscular thigh, a light dusting of silver hairs decorate the base. The plush swell of his heavy stones rests beneath it. You are fascinated by the sight of it all. You grasp at his flaccid manhood, testing the weight and feel of it in your palm, before sliding your hand along its length. You watch, transfixed, as the skin encasing it moves and retracts with every caress. The bulbous pink head quickly becomes more apparent as he stirs to life under your ministrations.

A sharp inhalation of breath alerts you to the fact that he is now awake. You look up to see that his right eye is watching you with keen interest. You smile slightly, continuing to pull him to full mast.

“Skoros gaomagon jaelā, byka mēre?” He whispers. What do you want, little one?

“To taste you”, you murmur back.

“That is depraved.” He says softly, “Līvi hen Silk Street gaomagon lī ra.” Whores of the silk street do such things.

It is a statement, not a protestation and he makes no move to stop you.

You giggle, before poking the tip of your tongue out to run along the slit at the tip of him. The taste is slightly salty, but not unpleasant. Aemond hisses through his teeth at the contact.

Your eyes flicker upwards to gauge his reaction. His pupil is blown wide with lust, his chest heaves with excitement.

“Ȳdra daor keligon.” He commands. Don’t stop.

Confident that your husband is enjoying himself, you take him fully into your mouth. It is a foreign sensation to take such an intimate part of Aemond into you in such a way, but you do not allow that to halt your actions. 

Recalling what your closest lady in waiting had relayed to you about pleasuring men in such a manner, you hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head back and forth, pulling him in and out of your mouth with the movement.

You experience a rush of exhilaration when you feel one of Aemond’s large hands tangle itself into the hair at the back of your head, soft groans pulling from his throat with every wet push and pull of your mouth.

You panic slightly when he knocks the back of your throat, having to calm yourself in order to remember to breathe through your nose and keep going. Aemond does not seem to mind. His hips have begun to buck in sync with your movements.

When your jaw begins to ache with the force of having his sizable cock forced in and out of you, you pull off of him with a wet pop. Your hand returns to its earlier exertions, allowing your mouth a much needed reprieve.

Aemond’s lower abdominal muscles begin to twitch and tense. The familiar sight of his face contorted in ecstasy is enough for you to know he is close to his release.

When his hips begin to stutter, you move to take him between your lips once more. But you are not quite quick enough and, while most of his spend splatters into your mouth, it also runs down your chin.

You swallow, it is nothing like you expected. The aftertaste has a hint of fennel. You do not mind it. You pull away, strings of saliva and Aemond’s release connecting you to him and dripping off of you. Aemond looks at you with a lazy, satisfied smirk. “Vaogenka riña.” Dirty girl.

[imthefemalemonster]

Babygirl and his hood moment was too cute 💚

[imthefemalemonster]

My dear author, Thank you so much for "Playing Games" It exceeded my expectation and I really loved it! 💗💗💗💗

My dear anon, thank you so much. (♡♡♡) It warms my heart that you loved it. ♡

[imthefemalemonster]

Game of Thrones — Prince Oberyn Martell

[imthefemalemonster]

Welcome to Dragonstone.

[imthefemalemonster]

Hi I’m the one who requested Daemon raping Aemond thing and you did it perfectly it’s as dark and twisted as I imagined I’m totally in love with it!!! Thank you so much!

Hello sweetie, no problem I'm so glad you liked it. ♡ My requests are closed for now since I'm overwhelmed with work and classes, but when it's up again don't hesitate to come back with more filthy ideas, I love to write those ~

[imthefemalemonster]

Hi! I was reading your stories and they are absolutely fantastic! That said can I get prompts #67, #69 and #95 from here with Daemon T. x fem reader, please?(nsfw)

Hello honey, thank you so much, it's very appreciated. (♡♡♡) Of course you can, I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻Playing Games

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (Smut)

⸻Summary: Daemon x Fem!Reader with smut prompts: “did you touch yourself while i was gone” + “if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god” + “touch me and you lose”

Tags: Established Relationship, Unspecified Timeline, Shameless Smut, PIV, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Kisses, Orgasm, No beta do I want to be him or date him

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: No context, no plot, just pure smut with the man Daemon himself. Requested by anon, hope you like it. ♡

REQUESTS CLOSED

⸻Words: 2551

You laid in bed, half naked, breaths heavy as you tried to find rest after a well deserved climax. It had been days that felt like an eternity to you. You caught a cold, unsure how. You cared little, because the most important thing was that you were forced to rest and to stay all day in bed by your husband. Daemon was simply worried for you, despite you telling him each second of the day that you were feeling good. But until the Maester, and mostly Daemon, told you to rest, you did as you were told.

Boredom was your only companion, Daemon left early in the day, came late into the night. You lived a very happy life alongside him, but it was also a very sex driven relationship. None of you had hidden it when your wedding came, and it always fulfilled you both. However this was exactly the worst part of being sick, you hadn’t touched each other in days. Despite your calls and pleas to Daemon the past few days, he had insisted you rested. It had greatly frustrated you, it wasn’t like him to deny you, or even himself. Both your frustrations mixed day after day, you couldn’t wait for it to be over, to crawl into Daemon arms and make one again.

A frail sheet covered your wetness, legs slightly parted away, your breast exposed to the afternoon sun. You didn’t often touch yourself, it bored you quickly. You only liked it if it was for Daemon to watch, or even participate himself. Body sore, you sighed as you rolled on the bed to face the other side, a familiar face sitting there, staring at you.

“S-shit!”, you gasped.

Your body jolted, skin still hot from your orgasm but tensing as Daemon stood there, observing you from toes to head. It wasn’t the first time you had been found in such depravity, often for teasing or to put on a show for the man himself, but there he had neither been invited nor warned. A smirk grew on his face as you squirmed on the bed.

“Someone had their fun while I was away I see…”

His voice was low, deep, far from disappointed but still with a hint of regret.

“I told you I was fine”, you hissed, “But you wouldn't listen”, you raised your eyes to the ceiling, “So I had to take matters in my own hands.”

He laughed at the words, tongue languidly wetting his lower lip, his stare fixated on your covered legs.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone, pretty wife?”

You pouted at the words, body holding back a laugh, sticking your tongue out like an arrogant child.

“I was simply worried”, scoffed Daemon, amused by your manners, “Since you can reach your own climax yourself, I can definitely see that you are doing bet-”

“I was doing better days ago!”. You threw the words at him, cutting him as he raised an eyebrow at your insolence. You sensed him tense on the chair, fingernails digging in his knees as his palms rested on them. Gods you loved the sight of him frustrated, hungry. His eyes told a thousand words you didn’t need to hear: how he wanted to ruin you as much as you wanted him to.

“I can take care of you then…”, he paused, hungry eyes traveling on your naked form, lilac orbs staring at your generous breast, nipples hard as they were inviting him, “Can make sure to have you moaning and beggi-”

“Hm-hm!”, you hummed as your back hit the mattress with nonchalance. Words got stuck in his throat. Frustration and need burnt inside Daemon as you turned your eyes away from him, you went from amusing him to annoying him. But he knew it was only a game, you would tease him and your insolence only made him grow harder and hungrier. His shaft throbbed in his breeches, he thanked the gods he loved how you played with him and how it only made the intercourse better later, if he only listened to his instincts your knees and cunt would be ablaze from how good he took you from behind.

“Such a bad wife”, he husked standing up like a predator, throwing his top and pants away, crawling closer. His digits brushed the sheets, wanting to sink his fingernails into your tender skin, bite your neck, bury himself so deep in your sweet cunt the sickness would run away in fear, “Such a needy whore for a husband’s cock and-”

“Tell me more!”, you yelled, exhaling loudly as your eyes were closed, mimicking falling asleep next to him.

Daemon stopped, it was fun, until you took it a bit too far. Usually hearing his filthy words as much as yours aroused you both, it was playful and exciting.

“If you interrupt me one more time-”, he warned, creeping closer to you on the mattress, almost above you. You could see each last barrier of his patience breaking. It had been days. You could tease him just a little bit more, and you would get the best fuck ever.

“So help me, Gods!”

Daemon laughed loudly at your comment. Head crushing into yours as your lips brushed, breathing each other’s air, dizzy from the hotness in the room. You couldn’t hold it anymore, mouth starving, folds dripping as you closed your legs to find some friction.

“Eager now are we? Going to beg for your dragon’s cock?”

“I’ve been begging for my husband cock’s for days!”, you shouted at his face, licking your lips in the sinfullest manner you could, saliva running down your chin. He stared in silence, grinning as a thousand dirty words rushed through his mind. You were so perfect. You would take him so perfectly.

Daemon hands reached for your waist, gripping harshly as he intended to flip you over, feeding you his seed by behind. You jumped at the touch, squirming away on the bed. He stared at you, confused, it wasn’t like you to deny him.

“Let’s play a game.”, you spoke, a large smile on your face.

“Now? Really?”, his mouth fell open, “After days you don’t want me to touch you-”

You could have scared him, him the Rogue Prince, from how large this grin grew on your face as he spoke these words he wished he never said.

“Yes!”, you mewled, pushing him on his back, hands resting, “I’ll climb on my beautiful, large, husband’s cock, ride it…”, you paused as the words escaped you mouth, your desire alongside them, “Simple rules: touche me with your hands and you lose.” Your voice was sweet, breath guiding your breast up and down, rejoicing into the sight of him pondering at your words.

“This is unfair”, he laughed, “And pretty stupid, little wife”. Daemon's shoulders moved up as he smirked, his scars beautiful on the pearl skin, “If I wanted to overpower you I would.” His hands tried to grip you but you were surprisingly fast. You moved down between his legs, your palm gripping his erection harshly as he groaned at the touch, head tilted as a warning.

“F-fucking filthy girl”, he howled, head resting back on the cushion, his eyes never leaving you.

You discarded your nightgown easily, standing naked under his burning stare, your skin tensing at the sight. His length throbbed in your hand, your mouth watering, it was so big, always had been. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken him, in hand, in your mouth, your cunt. You gagged and stretched around him, so tight each time it entered. Your motions sped up, starting from the base, brushing into his mess of pubic hair, to the leaking top, wet with precum. It was so angry in your hand, Daemon reacting to all your touches. You laid on the bed, lowering your head so your lips only brushed him. Daemon’s hips moved up to meet your mouth, eager to bury it inside, but you denied him, raising your head, laughing.

“Fuck”, he groaned, biting his lips, hands fisting the sheet, resisting the urge to grab your head and push your mouth open on his erection, “No cocks for days and you still find the strength to resist…”

“So do you”, you mewled against his belly, head lowered to softly kissing his skin as you were still slowly, painfully jerking him off. His hips shamelessly met your hot palm, your fingers pressing at the top, tearing a low gasp off his lips. Your hot tongue roamed on his chest, savoring the scars, loving them like nobody else ever will. Behind curtains of restrain and need, Daemon could still see your devotion and kind gesture and deeply appreciated them.

You lowered your body again, hands languidly brushing his waist, hips, fingernails scratching the skin, set ablaze by your touch. Crawling closer again, you straddled Daemon, resting on his waist, standing on your knees not touching his cock yet.

“You better ride it good”, he grunted, voice low in his throat, it felt like a threat more than an advice.

You smiled, your hand gripping him again. He sighed in relief, ready to feel himself buried so deep inside you. But you wouldn’t quite give it yet. You wanted it to feel like days too, feeling like how long you had waited. If you only listened to the voice screaming deep inside you, you would sink on that cock. But you wanted him to lose it so hard he would fuck you good. As your hand returned to stroke him gently, you brushed the head just slightly between your legs, the tip only caressing your wetness, juices dripping. Daemon breathed heavily, waiting, but nothing game. You only played with his cock, rubbing against your clit and entrance, brushing it against your folds and between your lips, but not letting him get in.

Daemon had just enough. Abruptly he stood up, resting on his elbow. His hands hadn’t touched you yet, but he craved to grab your waist, push you down on him and fuck your cunt open until his spend coated your walls.

“Put it inside. Now.”, he rasped, fists digging into the mattress, “Or I’ll have to do it myself.”

You pouted, lips closed as you were still rubbing against him, you palm shy against his throbbing erection. His voice was hungry, lustful, threatening. His eyes matched his words and motions, filled with hunger. Looking at him with doe eyes, looking falsely innocent, your finger pressing against your lips, face red and flushed from arousal. You waited, waited for him to just give up, to lose.

You glimpsed something dark in his eyes, just before his broad chest moved closer, his hands grabbed your waist and forcefully sunk you down on him. You gasped, air escaping your lungs, you moans accompanied by his bestial groans as he seated himself there. You knew, despite all the time you had taken him, again and again, he was too big, every time felt like the first time. It broke you in half, stretched you open as you squirmed to adjust, feeling every veins pulsing against your flesh. The game had ended, and you let him take the lead now, just like you had wanted it. You loved his hunger, his desire for you, you never really expected him not to touch you, you just wanted to feast and come right at the moment he would lose it to his hunger for you.

“Oh, I t-think I lost…”, he mewled in your ear, both your chest meeting, hips glued to yours as he stood buried deep inside, your walls clenching around him, meeting every throbbing of his cock, “So sad, little filthy wife… I think I’ll have to make it up to you. For breaking the rules.”

His breath was hot against your ear as you took him whole, little mewls and moans escaping your lips, your hips jolting, your body begging for friction. You let one hand rest on his shoulders as he pushed his entire weight above you, sinking you into the mattress and burying his cock even deeper, his balls slapping your skin. Your other hand found his hair, pulling on them in a desperate attempt to get him to move. He laughed at the motion, both your body so hot you felt like burning.

“Beg.”, he grunted against your lips, your eyes meeting in a delightful and sinful stare.

You laughed against his lips, meeting each other in a wild grin. Gods you would beg with every word of everything known languages for him.

“Fuck me, Daemon”, you cooed, “Hard. Until I can't walk thinking about anything else but you inside me.”

Sinking his toes and knees into the mattress, Daemon could do nothing but obey, drown into your embrace and cunt as he moved out, and slammed in again. Your skins met one another at each bestial thrust, your cunt dripping around him, mewling into his ear how big he was. You could feel his head, all his length to the hilt inside. When he left, you only waited for him to slam back against, air leaving your lungs as you begged for the next thrust.

“F-fuck!”, he yelled as his pace grew quicker, erratic, wet sounds or juices and flesh mixing escaping your inner thighs, “Dirty girl and a good fuckable wife.”

You moaned at the words. You were everything he wanted and more. All for him. Fuckable. Breedable. Manhandled. Good. Better. Perfect. You gave up under his weight, crushing you onto the bed, his chest and breaths heavy above you as he lost it to pure instinct. Your legs shaked, a familiar sensation in your lower belly, burning as you approached your climax. Your body shivered, stinging everywhere as the feeling overwhelmed you. You cried out, screamed a mix of his name and noises as you clenched around him, trapping him inside as he rode your orgasm. Your mouths met, ecstatic, movements erratic, from hips pounding to lips eating one another, tongues fighting. Daemon explored your mouth, grunting inside, sending shivers down your whole body as you felt him shake, throb against your tight walls, releasing his seed deep inside. It was all so loud you wondered if the whole castle just heard you both reaching your peak in unisson.

The both of you catching your breaths, Daemon rested his head against your neck, licking and nibbling at the skin playfully. Your cheek brushed his hair, sweaty, red and flushed. His weight crushed you gently, his embrace finally taking over all your body, outside and inside. You laid there a moment, feasting on his size against your sensitive flesh, legs locked around him.

“Delicious”, Daemon commented, slightly standing up on his elbow, contemplating your mess of a face, “Worth a few days off.”, he taunted.

“I wouldn’t say it was worth the wait…”, you laughed, meeting his beautiful, impressive stare, still bare and naked under him. His. His possession and his gorgeous, sweet wife, “I’m glad we finally fucked thought.”

“Dirty…”, commented Daemon, “But my sweet, little, precious wife…”, he snarled, teeth biting the soft skin of your cheek, mouth creeping toward your ear as you shivered under him, “I do not think that’s over yet.”

[imthefemalemonster]

Be good for me 

♥ pairings: rhaenyra targaryen x handmaiden!reader

♥ summary: the queen has figured out that you have been stealing from her, so she decided to take matters into her own hands.

♥ warnings/rating: 18+ (minors dni) nsfw. use of ropes/restraints. finger sucking. facesitting. oral sex (female receiving) breathe-play. slight dub-con. bdsm. femdom!rhaenyra. praise kink. degradation. 

♥ word count: 1.4k 

♥ read on AO3 <33

Keep reading

[imthefemalemonster]

Hi I have a request I’d like to make ^_^

Can you write something where Aemond is a bit shy when he cums, so he’s always burying his face against her neck, but this time reader really wants to see his expressions when he climaxes so she’s on top for the first time. He’s a little taken aback but he can’t deny the view is great. When he almost gets to climaxing he’s like “w-wait! I’m close..!” And she just grabs his jaw, making forced eye contact and proceeds to ride him even harder until he cums.

I LOVE it when people reach out off of anon. Very brave. Much courage.

ANYWAY, your wish is my command. Pls enjoy.

Warnings: As if this needs any. You know there will be smut. NSFW. 18+ Word count: ~1k

Aemond had always been a generous and attentive lover. Despite not having much in the way of sexual experience prior to your marriage, he was a perfectionist and eager to learn. He had spent hours poring over every tome that the Red Keep’s library had to offer on the act of pleasure, and plentiful practice had meant there was never a day that you were left wanting physically.

It had taken a while to convince him to remove his eyepatch in front of you. His claim of “I have no desire to frighten you, my love.” had made your heart ache. He was clearly self conscious of his disfigurement, but you were desperate to see all of him. The night that he had finally relented and allowed you to lift it from his face had been a tender moment for you both. You had pressed gentle kisses to his scar and reassured him that you loved all of him, he didn’t need to hide any parts of himself from you.

Despite this, one of those frustrating factors for you in your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince was that during the act of love he would always hide his face from you at the point of climax. Either by burying his face in the crook of your neck if you lay below him or throwing his head back if he took you from behind. You knew it was fuelled by his insecurity regarding his eye and it bothered you that there was still an element of discomfort for him in your relationship. You were determined to fix it.

You’d tried to outsmart him one morning, sliding down the bed to take him into your mouth, watching his face carefully as you’d bobbed your head back and forth along his thick length. However, as he’d reached the apex of his pleasure, he’d turned his head away into the pillows, leaving you with a mouthful of his spend and an overbearing sense of exasperation.

A week later the two of you lay together in your marital bed, each of you on your side, facing each other. The ever increasing passion of your kisses and the way Aemond’s hands roam the curves of your body make it explicitly clear where things are headed. An idea strikes you.

Hooking a leg over Aemond’s hip, you roll him onto his back, sitting astride his hips.

A slight raise of his eyebrow, that would have been imperceptible to anyone else, lets you know that your actions have shocked your husband and you grin down at him.

“What are you doing, dōna ābrazȳrys?” He asks curiously. Sweet wife.

“Just trying something different, my dragon.” You purr back.

His right eye watches with keen interest as you reach between your bodies, positioning his hardened cock at your entrance before sinking down slowly.

You gasp at the stretch of him and the unexplored depth and angle. This is a new position for both of you, but it is not an unwelcome sensation. From the sharp inhale through his nose that Aemond takes as he grits his teeth, you can tell that he’s enjoying it too.

Gingerly, you begin to grind your hips back and forth against his. Unsure of what you are doing, your lack of experience causes you to hesitate, so you are grateful when Aemond grasps your hips and helps your movements along as he thrusts up into you.

His right eye drinks in the sight of you appreciatively as you ride him. From the contorted expression of pleasure on your face, to the bounce of your breasts and the roll of your hips against his. “Vok.” He whispers, as you move above him. Perfect.

His praise instills you with renewed confidence and you move your hips faster, harder, until Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his breathing becoming ragged. The familiar tensing of his abdominal muscles and pulsating of him inside of you are all you need to feel to know he is close to his end. You smirk down at him.

Panic washes over his features as he attempts to turn his face away. “No, no, I’m close!” He groans.

“I know.” You breathe out, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn him back towards you. “I will look upon your face as you fill me.”

You continue to ride Aemond. The beginnings of his protestations die on his lips as his release takes hold. Your lips part, eyes wide with both wonder and enjoyment as you take in the sight of his pleasure drunk features as he pumps you full of his seed. 

His brow is furrowed. The blue iris of his right eye is no longer visible from the dilation of his pupil. The bridge of his nose is scrunched ever so slightly, distorting the positioning of the scar that runs along the left side of his face. His mouth hangs agape as an almost feral sounding grunt escapes him.

You have never seen anything quite so beautiful as your husband in the throes of ecstasy. You cannot quite believe that this is what he has been hiding from you all this time. Your own pleasure is long forgotten to you as you gaze adoringly down at him.

Suddenly he pushes you off of him with a force that causes you to collapse onto your own side of the bed.

“I’m sorry you saw that.” He mutters, turning away from you, clearly distressed.

You reach out a tentative hand, stroking his shoulder. “Aemond, we’ve spoken about this…”

He sighs. “I know, ñuha jorrāelagon, but it is one thing for you to flatter me during idle conversation. It is another entirely for my disfigurement to rob you of your pleasure.” My love.

You pull him gently onto his back, looking down at him with concern. “What do you mean?”

“You saw my face when I…when I- and you didn’t peak.”

Your features soften as you chuckle slightly. “Aemond, you were so breathtaking to me in that moment, that I quite forgot that that was the intention.”

Aemond eyes you suspiciously. “Really?”

You nod. “Aemond, my words to you are not just flattery. I mean it when I say I think you are perfect. Please never hide your face from me again.”

He appears to consider this for a moment before speaking. “Okay, dōna ābrazȳrys. But you must allow me one exception.”

“And what is that?”

Aemond smirks wickedly at you as he lowers himself on the bed. “My face will be hidden when it is between your thighs. No wife of mine will go to sleep unsatisfied.”

[imthefemalemonster]

Daemon “the lack of violence is making me an anxious kid” Targaryen

[imthefemalemonster]

As The Gods Intended

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Aela Targaryen) Warnings: DD;DNE, twincest/incest/Targcest, explicit smut, dubcon/noncon, angst. 18+ Word count: ~4k

Summary: In the wake of Lucerys' Velaryon's death, Aemond panics and makes some life altering choices that will have catastrophic consequences for his twin sister, Aela. Based on this request.

Thanks and spanks to my emotional support grotbag @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for enduring my snippets, beta'ing this into something readable and her unparalleled knowledge of High Valyrian. Love you forever.

The head and neck of Lucerys Velaryon’s dragon, Arrax, washed up beneath the cliffs below Storm’s End three days ago. Lucerys’s body has yet to be found. 

It has been almost a week, six agonisingly long days, since Aela Targaryen last saw or heard from her twin brother, Aemond. He is presumed dead, along with his beloved Vhagar. 

Aemond had been sent to Storm’s End to acquire Lord Borros Baratheon’s allegiance to their brother King Aegon II in exchange for agreeing to marry one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters. It had transpired that Lucerys had also been sent, acting as a messenger for his mother, Rhaenyra, to acquire Lord Baratheon’s allegiance to her own claim to the Iron Throne. When neither prince had been heard from following their arrival, further messengers were dispatched. Lord Baratheon had revealed that Lucerys had arrived in the Round Hall while Aemond was present and had received a frosty reception from his uncle. An altercation between the two had caused Borros to ask them both to leave. The two had not been seen since and neither had their dragons.

Aela had wept upon hearing the news of the discovery of Arrax’s remains. It was not difficult to imagine what had happened and it had clearly ended in tragedy. She’d lost her nephew and her beloved twin brother. The colour went out of Aela’s world that day. While a funeral for Lucerys had been held, one for Aemond had yet to occur. Their mother, Alicent, could not bring herself to say goodbye. For this Aela was grateful; she was not ready to let him go either.

It is long past midnight as Aela sits by her window, staring out over King’s Landing. Sleep has evaded her since Aemond went missing. Whose bed will she climb into when she has a nightmare now? Her twin flame has been snuffed out and she is lost.

A shadow in the candlelight of her peripheral vision causes her to turn her head toward the door and she freezes. Aemond. There he stands, a serene look in his uncovered blue eye, staring at her from the doorway. Her heart leaps into her throat at the sight, quickly replaced by a feeling of overwhelming joy as he closes the gap between them and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Hāedus, it is so good to see you,” he murmurs, stroking her long white hair. Sister.

Aela feels tears of happiness prickle her eyes. She pulls back to study his face, still unable to quite comprehend that the man in front of her is really her twin brother. “Aemond… I thought you weren’t coming back… You are alive!” He gives her a gentle reassuring smile. “I am alive, but for how long is up to you, dōnus mēres. Will you help your brother?” Sweet one.

She nods her head without hesitation. “Anything for you, lēkys. But first, we need to tell mother you are safe. She will be so pleased!” Brother.

“No!”

Aela flinches at the harshness of Aemond’s tone. He has never spoken to her with such a lack of care before.

His face softens and he cups her cheeks. “Forgive me, Aela; I do not mean to be so cruel. But you must understand that my life depends on your discretion.”

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Why can no one know that you are back?” He takes a step back from his twin sister, grasping her hands in his. He inhales a deep breath before he speaks. “There has been a terrible tragedy… one that I will surely get the blame for.” A sense of unease creeps over her. “You mean - what happened to Luke?”

He pauses for a moment, his thumbs rub circles on the backs of his sister’s hands. “So you have heard? You must understand that it was an accident. Would you really allow your brother to be punished for something that is not his fault?”

“Of course not!” She is horrified by the very idea. “Then you must come with me, hāedus. Only you can save me. Get dressed.” The urgency of Aemond’s voice is enough for her to know there is no more room for questions or arguments. She hurries behind her modesty screen, strips out of her nightgown and begins to redress in the clothes she had discarded earlier that evening. 

Her eyes go wide with surprise as she sees him reach for her nightgown as it hits the floor. She wonders what he is doing, but her train of thought is cut short when he throws a hooded cloak over the screen at her. It is the same one she has worn many times to sneak around Flea Bottom unrecognised.

“Put that on. Hurry,” he commands.

Aela does as she is told and wraps the cloak around her body, coming out from behind the privacy screen.

He steps towards her, pulling the hood over her head and stroking her cheek. “Good girl,” he praises, taking her hand and leading her through the same passage they have used to sneak away from the Red Keep many times before.

Aela notices her nightgown is still bunched up in Aemond’s free hand. He is walking at too quick of a pace for her to be able to ask about it, despite her burning curiosity. Her legs struggle to keep up with his long strides as he hurries them down Aegon’s High Hill, along Shadowblack Lane and out towards the Blackwater Rush.

She gasps as she watches him discard her nightgown onto the muddy bank.

“Aemond - what are you doing?”

He turns to her, his face eerily calm as he speaks matter-of-factly. “They will say you were so stricken by grief over the death of your twin that you drowned yourself. Don’t you see? It is the perfect plan. We can disappear forever.”

She feels a chill run down her spine. She stares at him with abject horror. “You want… people to think we’re dead?” The negative intonation of her response seems to go unheeded by him. He simply nods. “It is the only way. I cannot face what I have done. I will be branded a kinslayer.”

“But you said it was an accident…” 

She feels like she is experiencing a nightmare from which she is desperate to wake up. Her heart races as she stares at her twin brother’s face, searching for any sign of regret or remorse for his actions. Waves of nausea pulsate through her stomach.

“It was an accident,” Aemond insists. “I only meant to scare him…”

She feels her heart constrict, and a sob bubbles in her throat. “Gods, Aemond… What did you do to Luke?”

 “I didn’t do anything!” he snaps, his nostrils flaring with annoyance as he stares down at his sister. “If that stupid bitch Maris Baratheon hadn't taunted me, I would never have gone after him. Had Vhagar heeded my commands, he would not be dead. So, you see, none of this is my fault.”

Aela reels at the revelation. Hot tears roll down her cheeks. She shakes her head, backing away from Aemond. “You are a murderer-”

He grabs her by her upper arms, his grip so tight it will surely leave bruises.

 “I am your brother! He was a bastard, he took my eye! How can you be so cruel?” He shakes her slightly, continuing. “Have I not suffered enough? Would you prefer to see me dead? Do you not love me?”

A pang of guilt blooms heavy in Aela’s chest as she looks tearfully at his frantic face. “Of course I do-”

“Then you must come with me. Do this for me. There is no one that will ever love you like I love you, Aela. We are twins.”

He takes her hand once more and leads her along the banks of the Blackwater Rush and away from King’s Landing as he speaks. She is too overcome by grief and shock to fight it.

“It will be a bit of a walk, I’m afraid,” he informs her. “I could not land Vhagar too close to the city without drawing attention.”

At the mention of his dragon, her pace falters a little, remembering her own. “What of Myrmex? I cannot simply leave him.”

When Aela and Aemond had been born, they’d each had a dragon’s egg placed in their cradle. While his had never hatched, and he’d later claimed Vhagar, her own had. A beautiful emerald green dragon, named Myrmex who she’d grown and bonded with over the years. The thought of leaving him behind in the Dragonpit was simply too much for Aela’s heart to bear.

He does not look back at her, leading her along the riverbank. “A necessary sacrifice, I’m afraid, dōnus mēres. Taking him is too much of a risk. You’d be seen.” She sniffles, allowing herself to be pulled along by her twin brother. “But he is my dragon… I love him…”

He stares coldly down at her. “I am your brother. Myrmax may have hatched in your cradle, but you and I shared the same womb. How can you be so selfish?”

His voice softens, and she looks away guiltily. “He will be well cared for in the Dragonpit. And who knows? Perhaps he will find you again one day. Your bond with him is strong. Almost as strong as ours.”

Aela’s heart aches for her dragon. She and Aemond walk the rest of the way in silence until the gargantuan frame of Vhagar looms ahead.

“Where will we go?” she asks meekly.

“I have found us a place. You need not worry. I have spent the last few days preparing for your arrival.”

“You - you planned this?” She knows she doesn’t even need to ask this. Of course he has. Aemond had always been too clever, too calculating for his own good. It was a quality she had once admired. Now, it frightened her.

“I knew as soon as I saw Luke fall from the sky that there was no coming back from this. And I could not just leave you,” he says, helping to lift her into Vhagar’s saddle, climbing on behind her. “Worry not, hāedus, lēkia will take care of you now.”

Her mind goes blank as soon as Vhagar takes to the sky. The rush of cold air and the weightless roiling of her stomach with every movement supersedes all other thoughts and feelings. Though she has ridden on dragonback many times with Aemond before, she imagines she feels his chest pressed tighter to her back than usual. His arms seem to wrap more firmly around her waist. Surely it is just that, though; her imagination.

Eventually, as dawn breaks, Vhagar lands in the foothills of the Red Mountains, close to the stormlands' border with the Reach, east of the Cockleswhent and southeast of the Blueburn. She looks out over the ruins of Summerhall Castle, once used as a place for members of House Targaryen to spend their summers. It had been almost destroyed in a fire and never restored to its former glory.

“Here, Aemond? You can’t be serious,” she says as her brother helps her down from Vhagar.

“I know it’s not much to look at, jorrāelītsos, but I think you’ll find it rather comfortable. And no one will come looking for us here.” She hopes that he is wrong. There is nothing she wants more than for them to be found and an end to this madness. As though he senses her trepidation, Aemond’s eye makes contact with hers, her feet finally reaching the ground. “And you’d better hope no one finds us - you are implicated in this, after all.” Little love.

She is too trusting of her twin brother to pick up on the subtle threat in his voice. Anguished, she protests. “But I haven’t done anything!”

“It would not seem that way to anyone from the outside looking in.” He cocks his head at her. “You are my twin sister. You have faked your own death and come away with me after I killed our nephew. Some might say you’d had the whole thing planned all along… I would simply hate for that to happen to you, hāedus. My heart could not take it.”

She wails piteously at this. She dreads to think what people will say about her. Her heart breaks at the idea that she could ever be considered a co-conspirator to murder.

“Do not worry, dōnus mēres,” he soothes, pulling her tight to his chest. “Lēkia will protect you.” He holds her a few moments longer, until her tears finally subside. “Let’s get you inside and show you around your new home, hm?”

Aemond places a hand on the small of his twin sister’s back, ushering her inside. Large portions of the castle are without a roof and in complete ruin. 

“We will repair all of this eventually, restore it to its former glory,” he says airily, guiding her through.

The few rooms that are habitable have had the remaining furniture pushed into them to create a makeshift solar, sleeping quarters and a space for them to eat. It does not quite live up to the lavish surroundings of the Red Keep, but is certainly not the squalor that she had been expecting.

“This is… nice,” she says, a slight hint of surprise to her tone.

He smiles warmly. “It will be the perfect place for us to start our family.”

“Start a family?” she asks. Dread is beginning to gnaw its way through her insides. She is almost afraid to hear Aemond’s answer.

“Yes, hāedus. We will marry and create heirs. We will start our own faction of House Targaryen.”

“Aemond, we cannot! You are to be betrothed to a Baratheon and me to a Lannister. You are my brother. My twin!”

Her heart races as she looks at him with pleading eyes. He remains utterly unaffected by her resistance.

“Those betrothals are null and void. They are a part of old lives. We are forging a new one. And so what if we are siblings? Helaena and Aegon are married, and the Conqueror married both of his sisters. Why should we be any different?”

She is panicked. She does not know what to say. “Because… because… I don’t…”

“You don’t love me!” he accuses, cutting her off, his brow furrowed, his blue eye alight with outrage.

“I do love you, lēkys, I do!” she attempts to argue back, tears welling in her eyes.

“Then you will obey me,” he states coolly.

She gasps as Aemond’s mouth descends upon hers, the sound cuts off as an “mmmph” as he presses his lips to hers. He tangles his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place as he kisses her. It feels wrong and yet she kisses him back, ignoring the pit that is opening in the depths of her guts, eager not to anger him further.

She has kissed her brother on the lips before, but they have been chaste kisses between siblings. What he is bestowing upon her now is a passionate kiss, filled with lust, the type reserved for lovers. She has never experienced a kiss like this before. She never anticipated that the first time would be with her twin brother. She feels nauseated.

When he finally pulls away, he scoops her into his arms, carrying her towards the bed. “We shall create an heir today, jorrāelītsos.”

Her blood runs cold at the suggestion. “Aemond, we can’t - I can’t - I’ve never… My virtue is still intact!”

She attempts to squirm out of his arms, but he is too strong for her.

His voice is saccharinely sweet as he smiles down at her. “As it should be, hāedus. You have waited for your brother like a good girl.”

She shakes her head, panic rooting itself deep inside of her as he lays her on the bed. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words will not come.

“You see, Aela, we are two halves of the same whole. You and I were created for each other. Isn’t that beautiful? No one else can have you but me.”

He cards his fingers through her long, white hair and strokes her cheek, before pulling at the lacings on the front of her bodice.

Aela finally finds her voice, feebly attempting to push Aemond’s hands away. “Lēkys, no, please!”

Aemond shushes her, swatting at her hands and continuing to undress her. “You love your lēkia, don’t you? I have waited many years to see you all grown up. You will not deny your beloved brother his prize, will you?”

She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to think about the fact that her twin brother is now stripping her naked.

The cold air causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh as Aemond finally pulls away her small clothes.

 “Open your eyes for me, dōnus mēres,” he whispers.

As her lilac eyes open slowly, she is met by the sight of him sitting above her, drinking in the sight of her with appreciation shining brightly in his gaze. 

“Gevie,” he states simply. Beautiful.

It is then she realises that he has also removed his clothing. She stares at him wide eyed. She has not seen her brother naked since they were children. They had shared a bed up until they were thirteen years old, until one morning she’d awoken to find the hardness of his arousal pressed against her buttocks. She’d been unsure of what it was and after speaking to her mother and seeing her horrified reaction, she’d understood it was something wrong. Aela and Aemond had been made to sleep apart ever since.

“Feel what you do to me,” he murmurs, taking her hand and wrapping it around his hardened cock.

She whines, attempting to pull her hand away, but he keeps it there. He is firm and warm to the touch.

“You - you cannot put that inside of me,” she squeaks. “It will not fit.”

“Silly girl,” he chuckles. “You were made specifically to take me inside of you. No one else. But I will prepare you first.”

Tears well up in her eyes as he passes his digits through the delicate silver curls of her mound, swiping his fingers through her folds. He roughly inserts his middle finger inside of her, curling it upwards and dragging it in and out. She has never even touched herself so intimately, so to have the intrusion of her brother between her legs is surreal and makes her want to curl in on herself to hide her shame.

“So tight,” he comments, almost as if he is speaking to himself. “And becoming so wet.”

“Aemond, I don’t like this!” she whines, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh, but your body tells another story entirely,” he says, his tone mocking as he inserts a second finger.

She cries out at the sensation. “That’s too much! You’re putting too much inside of me!”

He chuckles dryly. “You’ll need to take much more than two fingers if I’m to fuck you. How else will you bear my children, idañītsos?” Little twin.

She shakes her head against the pillows, attempting to close her legs around Aemond’s wrist and halt his movements. “I don’t - I don’t-”

Never slowing the movement of his fingers inside of her, he cuts her off. “You don’t… love your twin brother? You’d refuse me and break my heart? Are you really so cruel?” She sobs, her own guilt outweighing the disgust and shame she feels at the unwilling invasion of her body. “No, no, no. I love you, Aemond, I swear I do!”

“Mmm,” he concurs. “Then this is how you show me you love me. Do you understand?”

She freezes as he withdraws his fingers from her, replacing them with the tip of his cock. She screws her eyes shut, screaming out at the pain as he pushes inside. It feels like she is being torn in half.

“Gods…you are so tight,” he grits out. “You have to relax, or I will never get inside.”

Her body is wracked with sobs. She feels like the intrusion is unending. The pain is unlike anything she has ever experienced. White hot flames of agony lick their way between her legs and up her spine.

“Allow me to put you out of your misery,” he says softly.

For a moment, she dares to hope he will have mercy on her and stop, until she feels him clamp a hand over her mouth. In one rough shove, he pushes himself into her to the hilt. Her agonised shriek is muffled by his palm.

His eye flutters closed in satisfaction. “Finally, we are one. As the gods intended.”

Her mind reels. Surely the gods would never intend for something that feels so vile and so painful? 

Beginning to thrust in and out of her, barely giving her body time to adjust to him, he grunts. “Does this feel good, hāedus? Is lēkia making you feel good?”

She is mortified by the question. Why would anything so vulgar ever feel good?

“No,” she answers honestly, “You are hurting me.”

“It doesn’t feel pleasurable because you don’t love me the way that I love you,” he states, continuing to thrust inside of her. “This feels good for me, because I love you with all my heart. Lēkia will help you to love him. Don’t worry.”

Aemond presses a finger to the pearl at the apex of her sex, rubbing tight circles as he continues to rut into her. 

Her hips jolt at the new sensation, unsure of what’s happening to her body. Her hands fly to his shoulders, clutching at them desperately. “What - what - are you doing to me?”

His face is smug as he moves above her. “You’ve never touched yourself have you, idañītsos? So innocent and all mine. I will bring you pleasure like you have never felt before. Only I can give you that.”

He speeds up both his ministrations to her bud alongside his thrusts, and Aela can begin to feel the inside of herself clench around him. It is completely involuntary, but it’s apparent that he feels it too.

“Oh, you like that?” he mocks. “Good girl.”

The moan that escapes her mouth sounds alien to her. The slow burning ache between her legs that builds towards a heated pressure is unfamiliar to her. Her eyes go wide and she feels like she needs to push towards something, but she is unsure how. She whines, clawing at his shoulders, desperate to ground herself.

“You are about to peak, hāedus,” he tells her. “Let go for lēkia.”

He gives her nipple a harsh tweak and increases the pressure he is exerting between her legs.

Aela’s back arches off of the mattress with the force of her pleasure, jerking her body against his. He places a hand against the rear of her pelvis, holding her against him as he fucks her through her orgasm. White hot sparks shoot their way through her body, a loud cry of pleasure releasing from her mouth. Her body goes limp in Aemond’s gasp. Her eyes are heavy lidded and pleasure drunk.

He uses her body, seeking his own end. A few more thrusts and he spills deep inside of her with a low groan. She barely registers the feeling of him filling her up.

When he pulls out, her cunny is a mess of blood from her maidenhead being broken and his seed leaking out of her. He hums appreciatively, mixing it together and pushing it back inside with his fingers.

She hisses, a mixture of pain and oversensitivity causing her to jerk her hips away from his touch.

“Forgive me, hāedus. We do not want this to go to waste if you are to be with my child.”

Aela knows she should protest, but what’s done is done. It is too late. 

She is pliant, allowing him to pull her to his chest and hold her close.

“Avy jorrāelan, idañītsos”, he murmurs, kissing her temple. I love you, little twin.

Too tired to fight him any longer, Aela finally gives in. “Avy jorrāelan, lēkys.” I love you, brother.

Aemond smiles as his twin sister drifts off to sleep on his chest. 

“I know you do, jorrāelītsos. We will make such a happy family.”

[imthefemalemonster]

the waves came in over my head

a/n: if you told me that in the year 2023 i would be this insane abt a character played by matt smith i would've killed you but. here we are. lol. anyways. this is set in ep1 right after the gold cloaks scene. on ao3

summary: your husband comes home earlier than expected, and he wants what is his. 

wc: ~1.6k 

cw/tw: 18+, noncon. dark!daemon. forced marriage. dacryphilia, p-in-v sex, crying, spit, loss of virginity, unprotected sex. tags are not exhaustive. 

title from ‘how to disappear’ by lana del rey 

---

You are not sure what wakes you. It might be the steady patter of rain on the windows of your room. It might be the comings and goings of  handmaidens and knights. Or it may be all in your head. 

Whatever the reason, you do not expect to wake up and see your lord husband standing at the foot of your bed. 

You choke on your breath and sit up, back thudding against the intricately carved headboard. You scramble to pull the blankets up over your body. You are dressed in a baby pink nightgown -- thin and gauzy -- with the straps already slipping down your shoulders. You will be damned if you let him see what is underneath. 

“My lord,” you gasp, voice sluggish with exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” 

“What?” he asks. “Are you not happy to see me, wife?” 

You lick your lips as panic clogs your throat, and you scramble to answer him. “I was not aware you were to come home tonight.” 

He does not answer and the silence spreads into every corner of the room. Anxiety swoops low in your belly. You have not been alone with Daemon in the six months of your farce marriage. Ever. 

Then, he smiles. His teeth flash in the moonlight that drenches your room. His skin -- milky white -- seems to glow. You can’t help but think that he looks every bit like the monster you were warned he was. 

“I want to ask you something, darling--” the pet name is saccharine sweet and artificial “--have you taken another?” 

You blink up at him. “I--tak--what?” 

He sits down on the bed and you pull your legs into your chest. His lips twitch. 

“Have you taken--” he deliberately pauses in between every word “--another?” 

You cannot help the laugh that escapes you. “Your first order of business couldn’t have possibly been to come and ask me if I am still a maiden?” 

“Ah,” he says, eyes flashing with triumph and you feel stupid. 

“Get out,” you snap. “Leave me be, husband--” you wish to imbue the word with as much vitriol as you can, but your voice shakes. You know he catches this “-- and go find your pleasure somewhere else.” 

He kisses his teeth. “Now that is no way to speak to your lord husband, is it?” 

This is a game, one that is unfamiliar to you even though you have played it the odd times Daemon has come back to King’s Landing. Cat and mouse, where he sinks his teeth into you and doesn’t let go. 

You scoff. “And it is now that you remember your duties, Prince Daemon?” 

“Poor thing,” he purrs, trailing his hand over the blankets that cover your calves. “Have I neglected you?” 

Your heart rattles in your chest and you lose whatever bravery you had. You are demure and compliant once more. “No, my lord,” you whisper.

His hand comes up to your knee and he fists the soft cotton of your nightgown. You try to pull back but there is no where to go. “Oh, but I have. And I think it is time to remedy that.” 

That is when you stop breathing. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart. It is a feral thing. Wild and unashamed. 

He moves his hands up, hooking them behind your thighs and yanking you forward. You let out a yelp as your back hits the mattress. You suddenly feel so, very afraid. 

You squeak out his name as his fingers dig into your skin, spreading you open. You try and pull your legs back together -- no one has ever seen you like this -- but the grip he has on you is too strong. 

“Mmm, pretty,” he mocks, staring at your cunt and the smooth skin of your thighs. 

Hot pressure builds behind your eyes as he pushes your nightgown over your stomach. You do not want this to happen. 

Almost pathetically you clear your throat. “No, Daemon,” you say. It comes out as a whimper. “Get off.” 

He shushes you and presses two fingers into your slick hole. He runs them up, bumping your clit and you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood. 

Something flutters in your stomach. Warmth pools in the very marrow of your bones and you let out a sob, tears leaking out the corner of your eyes. 

“No,” you murmur, hitting a palm flat on his shoulder. But he is a mountain of a man. A soldier. A Targaryen, with dragon blood that simmers hot in his veins. He does not move easily. “No,” you repeat, but he ignores you. As is his right. 

You twist onto yourself, trying to deny him access to the very thing you hold holy, and all he does is laugh. It’s a raspy thing; tinged with fire and ash.

“Ah, ah,” he scolds, pressing a hand onto your face. His fingers press into your eyelids and the smell of smoke and leather and fragrant lemon soap threatens to choke you. 

You think of the sea and the journey from your home to King’s Landing. 

Twenty days and twenty nights of briney salt water splashing in your face. Your skin peeled and your shoulders glimmered from the sun. When the moon hung fat in the sky, you imagined jumping into the sea, letting the sparkling blue water swaddle you like the wool blankets of your childhood. 

All your sorrows will return to the sea. That is what your mother said before she sent you away. 

“Tell me, lady wife,” he pants above you, swirling his finger over your clit. You let out a sound, something in between a yelp and a moan. “Do you like it?” 

His question curls tightly around your throat and you try to bite his palm. Try and do anything to make him leave but your disobedience seems to spur him on. 

He hooks his thumb past your lips, forcing your mouth wide open. He cradles the back of your head and you are now forced to look up at him. 

His skin has gone pink and his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. You blink and he bares his teeth. You think he means to eat you. Consume you until you are no more. The thought is almost soothing. 

That’s when he spits down on your cunt and your leg shoots out -- almost reflexively -- and you kick him hard in the thigh. He grunts and digs his nails into your cheek, but his shoulders shake with laughter. 

He moves his face down and snaps his teeth almost playfully at your chin. It is then that you realize that your face is wet with tears. 

“Naughty, naughty,” he breathes with a voice dipped in sugar, as his cock drags through your slick folds. 

He is hot. Pulsing. Alive. And he pushes in slowly, rocking his hips forward in a way that is almost gentle. It still hurts as he sinks down, the tip of his cock pressing up against your womb. 

Your cunt is sopping wet, the slick sounds of it reverberating in the room. You are embarrassed at your weakness. At your body's willingness to let him in. 

You let out another sob and he groans as you clench tight around him. His pleasure pricks you like thorns. It snaps at you with teeth. 

Your heart flutters like a trapped bird as he continues to fuck himself into you. He is not an inexperienced man. He knows what he is doing and you hate him for it. Hate him for creating little fissures of white hot pleasure that lick up your spine. 

You bite at your tongue to stop yourself from asking for more. 

He’s saying something above you. Something about that pretty little cunt and how it takes him so well. You ignore him, thinking back to the crash of the waves against the boat that belonged to your father and how the sounds of it would drown everything out. Even your own thoughts. 

All your sorrows will return to the sea. But the sea is in your stomach. It is in your bones. It is in your heart. Your mother should have wished for something else. 

His hips stutter with his release but he keeps his finger working on your clit until you let out a high pitched wail and clamp tight around him. 

He pets at your face. “My darling wife,” he coos, drunk off pleasure. 

You are still crying. 

He pulls out, cock already going soft, and moves up, smearing slick and spend over the soft skin of your stomach. He kisses your tears. 

“I hate you,” you sniffle, voice raw like a festering wound. 

He smiles. It is tinged with triumph. “No, you don’t,” he says, smoothing a hand over your belly. 

“You are vile,” you say, trying to push him off but he lays the entirety of his weight on your body. He smells like old blood. It reminds you of tarnished jewelry. 

“Mmm, I have to agree,” he replies, sounding smug. “But you, lady wife--” he presses the pad of his thumb to your lips. You think of biting him. Let him live in the belly of the beast. “--will do your duty. Do you know what that is?” 

There is only one thing you are good for. That is what your father drilled into your head. 

“You, my darling girl--” he smooths your hair down “--will give me an heir. You will get fat with my child  and we will make a family stronger than what my brother has created. Understand?” 

You swallow a sob as he moves his hand down, pushing his seed back into your swollen cunt. 

“Understand?” he repeats. 

What is there left to say?

“Yes, my lord,” you whisper. “I understand.” 

---

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks in my inbox are always appreciated!

[imthefemalemonster]

bedtime activities include: rhaenyra pretending not to know she’s scandalising alicent right before going to sleep and seeing how far she can push her