#daemon Targaryen x reader smut

[lis-likes-fics]

The Dragon's Wife

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x bride!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Breeding Warnings: NSFW, noncon, dark content, fingering, p in v, slight cum eating, first time, humiliation, crying kink, biting, multiple force orgasms, forced breeding, creampie, A/N: Happy Kinktober, everyone! I think this may be the darkest thing I've ever written, in terms of this is my first noncon. If you catch any warning I missed, please let me know. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this and the rest of my prompts for kinktober! Find the main masterlist here. Also A/N: I had to respost this shit twice but Tumblr fucking sucks and is hiding it. I hate this website sometimes... Enjoy!

The large doors of Daemon's bed chambers shut behind you with a damning thud. Still wrapped in your wedding gown, the events of the night were still very fresh in your mind.

You were angry, outraged by the dishonor done upon you. Like some broodmare, your father gave you away to the Targaryen prince in need of a new wife after the last had passed "suspiciously".

It was humiliating, to say the least. You had produced no heirs for your house and "talked too much for your own good". Your father jumped at the chance to have this brute of a prince tame you. Perhaps you would be a "respectable lady".

But you would give neither of them the satisfaction.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at the door all night?" Daemon's voice spoke behind you, exhausted by you already.

You sighed. "Better than looking at you, dear husband."

You could hear his footsteps against the hard floors as he stepped closer to you. "Someone ought to teach you some respect."

You turned to face him so he could see the way you rolled your eyes. "Apparently, that's meant to be your job…seeing that I am now wed to you."

He gave you a hard look, his gaze dark and dangerous as his eyes rake up and down your body. A long silence filled the space between you as you stared one another down.

"Come here," he commanded, his tone stern but his voice quiet. yet

"No."

He tilted his head and a wicked smile took over his face. Amusement lit up within his eyes as a new goal took over him. He took a couple more steps toward you, stalking closer like some predator to its prey as he sized you up.

"Perhaps I will teach you some respect."

A chill ran down your spine, but you refused to stand down as you glared at him. He stood before you, raising a hand to touch your cheek. You smacked it away. "Don't touch me."

He breathed a laugh, looking you up and down. You moved to take a step back, to put more space between the two of you as an unsettling feeling settled into your skin.

But before you could lift your foot, his hand was wrapping firmly around your throat and pulling you close to him. You gasped out of shock, bringing your hands up to his own to pry it off of you as you stared wide-eyed at him.

"Such strong will you've got," he said, sighing deeply. "I wonder how easy it would be to break it." Your breath was shallow as you clenched your jaw. He hummed, moving his hand up in a harsh trail to your jaw, where his thumb and fingers dug into your flesh and made you hiss from the pain. "Your job is to produce my heirs, little cat, nothing more. You will do as I say."

You huffed. "I am not a whore."

"No," he said. "But you are my wife now…and you will breed if I say you will."

"I will not."

He laughed, a loud one deep in his chest as he pulled you closer by your neck. You were trembling in his grasp, the stubbornness turning to fear as his eyes trailed your face and stopped at your lips.

"You don't have a choice."

He shoved you away, and you stumbled to the ground. You stood quickly, trying to put more distance between you. But you had nowhere to go. You watched as he slowly advanced.

He backed you against the large table in his chambers, the wood digging uncomfortably into your back. He trapped you, grabbing roughly at your waist and regarding you with a primal grin.

"Wait," you begged, leaning back as you grabbed the table for support. "Wait, please. I'm sorry." He pulled back slightly, looking over you as he took in this new sense of fright. You swallowed thickly, staring at him as you trembled, tears pricking at your eyes and threatening to spill. You sighed shakily. "Please don't."

You received no sympathy as a wolfish grin took his face. "Look at you," he teased, laughing again as his hand found your neck again. "Not as strong as I thought then."

His lips crashed down upon yours, a bruising kiss that had lips mashing with teeth, breaking skin and filling your mouth with the taste of blood. You tried to push him away, grabbing at his arms and peeling them off you only for him to grab you again in a rougher grip than before.

You whined against his lips, still trying and failing to push him away from you. He lifted your chin, his hot breath enveloping your neck as he bared his teeth, burying them in your throat and making you yelp.

You grabbed at his hand uselessly. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your blood pump furiously beneath your skin. Desperate to remove him from you, you managed to shove him away with your foot. He stumbled backwards. You took no time to catch your breath as you turned to run. You didn't know where you were going, but you ran.

Daemon watched with an amused smirk, wiping his mouth and advancing toward you again. You hardly got far before his hand was hooking around your neck and pulling you right back against him, your back flush against his front as his hot mouth and breath lingered at your ear.

"I stand corrected," he purred, biting your earlobe.

You shuddered under his grasp. "Please," he watched a tear slip down your cheek. "Don't hurt me."

"Oh," he breathed, pressing his lips against the crook of your shoulder and savoring the way you closed your eyes and whined. "Where's the fun in that?"

He held your body against his own with a tight grasp around you, his arms wrapped around your body and over your arms as his hands roamed your figure hungrily.

It all happened so fast. And he was so uninterested before, you admit, you had become a little cocky with your words the more comfortable you became with your detest for him. You never expected anything like this to happen—although you probably should have.

His hands found the neckline of your dress, and with a monstrous tear, he ripped it down the middle until it pooled in rags around you. He removed each layer from you like some beast tearing the flesh from a quivering animal with its sharpened tooth.

And when you were bare, another rush of adrenaline filled your veins and built another fight in you, a fire that would soon be overcome by a larger, more furious one.

"Daemon, stop!" you shouted in false bravado, kicking your feet to get him away, only to feed his hunger for this enticing hunt you created.

His large hand groped your breast, and you clenched your eyes shut at the sensation of it. You were trapped, and you couldn't do anything about it as he walked you to the table and shoved you to lay on it. Your cheek pressed against the wood, and you could almost swear you felt splinters poking at your skin. But the wood was so smooth, you could have been imagining it.

He bent down, confining you once more as his lips and tongue and teeth clashed with the skin of the back of your neck, your shoulder, your back. He licked and sucked and bit until you were sure you'd be covered in bruises, the marks of his claim coloring your skin red and purple by morning.

"You taste magnificent, little cat," he purred before biting your earlobe once more. A cold tear ran down your cheek as you shuddered, and a dark chuckle slipped from his chest. "Such beautiful tears you've got. Like crystals."

You yelped as his hand smacked down on your ass, gripping the flesh immediately after in a vice grip that burned.

Your whole body jerked when you felt his fingers press between your thighs to feel your cunt, baring your teeth and biting back another whimper. "Oh, that's no good," he remorsed, acknowledging the lack of slickness between your thighs as his crude fingers continued to feel you. "We'll just have to fix that. You do not want to take this dry, I'll tell you that. Especially not when you're this tight. You've needed a good fucking, haven't you, little cat?"

You could hear the smirk on his voice, and it made your skin prickle, a chill running down your spine that soured and turned to fire in your belly when he shoved two fingers inside of you. You clenched around him and tried to hide your face away on the table.

"Daemon, please," you begged. "Please, please, please."

He thrust them deeper, exploring more of you as he listened to your stifled moans and cries. "I know, little thing. You don't want my fingers inside of you… you want my cock, don't you?"

You shivered as another cry shook you at that. He continued, "You do. I can see it. You want my hard cock inside of you, you need it." He shoved his fingers in deeper, adding a third that curled harshly inside you and allowed waves of arousal to coat his fingers. "You need my thick cock in your tight little cunt to fill you with my dragonborn sons and daughters."

He kept thrusting, his pace picking up faster and harder as he set a cruel rhythm. You couldn't help clenching around him, opposing the invasion as the searing pleasure tore through your body.

"You were so confident," he said, his voice suddenly right next to your ear, "until I got my hands on you. You were just begging for someone to put you in your place."

You gripped the edge of the table, wanting nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear, let the Stranger take you away from this cruel world and deliver you to sleep.

"Look at you," he snickered, pulling his hand from you with a sickening squelch. "Wetting my hands like a common whore. Perhaps you needed this more than I realized."

Your legs trembled, and you wrapped your arms around your head to cover your face, to hide away from him. You startled when you felt his hand reach out and comb through your hair, starting from the beginning of your scalp and working his way back until he suddenly gripped a handful of your hair at the base and pulled. He made you look at him, you closed your eyes and whimpered at the pain.

"Open your eyes," he said calmly, staring at your face as you refused. His grip in your hair tightened as his voice lowered to a dangerous register as he nearly growled. "Open your eyes, little cat."

You followed his orders, afraid of the consequences otherwise. He watched another tear join the rest of them streaked along your cheeks, your eyes wet and pathetic as he fed off your misery. "Well, you needn't worry," he whispered, faux sympathy poisoning his tone. "I'll fuck you like you need to be fucked."

He yanked at your hair again, pulling you up to stand and ignoring the way you cried at the pain. He led you to the bed, letting you go with a small shove so you stood in front of it. He gestured to the bed. "On your knees."

You stood frozen, covering your body as you hung your head. You were shaking. He didn't care.

"On your knees."

You bit your trembling lip, moving slowly as you set your knee on the edge of the bed and slowly moving forward until you were sitting as he told you: on your knees, humiliated and cold.

He pressed his hand to your back, and the rest of his body followed to hold you as he harshly kissed the back of your shoulder again, more teeth than lips. Then he pushed you forward so you held yourself on your hands.

"Look at you," he remarked again, another chuckle echoing in his chest. "I shall make a bride of you yet."

You listened to him strip, taking his sweet time to remove every piece of clothing he had from his body and let it drop to the floor like sacks. You waited, hating the suspense. And you flinched when his hand found your dripping cunt, slipping through your lips and leaving just as quick.

There was a quite suckling sound, and then he spoke again. "Mm, you should taste yourself. Such sweet nectar."

His fingers prodded at your lips, you sealed them closed as you tried to move your face away, but he wasn't having it. He smeared your slickness all over your lips and down your chin and cupped your jaw with his cruel fingers. "Taste it."

You let out a choked sob as you slowly opened your mouth. His fingers invaded your mouth the same way they did your pussy, thrusting harshly in and out between your lips as you tasted yourself on them. You breathed heavily around his fingers as he pushed down on your tongue, spread them apart to make your tongue lick between them, adamant on making you lick every drop of your arousal off of his hand.

He finally removed his hand, and you could breathe again as you hung your head and gasped. You felt your blood run cold at the sound of wet skin on skin, a steady shlick making you clench, rejecting what you knew was coming, what you knew you couldn't fight.

You expected him to say something, to whisper in your ear to make you shiver, to taunt you as he fed off your humiliation and loathing.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one deep thrust. It was much worse than if he had warned you beforehand. You'd found safety in his predictability, his need to tease you gave warning to what he intended to do when he intended to do it. He'd taken even that from you.

He groaned as he settled deeply within you. "Ondoso se gods…" he muttered under his breath, taking your hips and pulling you back as he ground inside of you. "Now I know why you were so eager," he breathed. "This is a virgin's cunt."

You gripped the sheets of the bed and clenched, wanting to force him out but unable to. He was bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you. He was carved by war, bled and seasoned by it. If you thought there was a chance you won this fight, you were dumber than he thought.

He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that emptied you out until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. The pleasure burned. As his patience began to wear thin, he was rid of all his slow, tempered thrust and resolved to piston inside of you like a hungry beast.

His hips snapped into your ass with every thrust, in and out was his fast rhythm that split you apart on his cock. You gripped the sheets and squeezed his cock and cried as the ecstasy of his intrusion tore you apart.

You whimpered and moaned, unable to help the way your sobs left you as he grunted and groaned about how good he must be making you feel.

His hand snaked around your waist and between your thighs to find your clit, and he pressed down harshly as he moved to make you cum. The pleasure spasmed when he touched you and you hated it.

His relentless thrusts ached as he built you up. When you came, your whole body shattered and you cried out, your arms giving out as you fell forward into the bed and muffled your sob. Your thighs shook and it took far too long for the shocks of pleasure to simmer. You hated yourself for letting it feel so good.

A hand cracked down on your ass once more as he pulled you close again by the waist. "You fucking loved that, I could tell," he breathed. "You clenched around me so tight. Even now your cunt is sucking me in."

You pulled weakly at the bedsheets. "Daemon, please…"

"So sweet… begging for me like some cock-drunk whore," he smiled. "Oh, my little cat… I'm going to fuck my cum so deep inside of you, you'll feel me dripping out of you for days."

He pulled out of you, and you let out a breath. In the same breath, he flipped you onto your back and spread your legs wide with his calloused hands. You fought to close them, but to no avail—not to your surprise.

He spread you open and sunk into you once more, grasping your jaw with his hand shaped into claws as he made you look at him. He thrust into you, deep and fast, his breath almost like a groan in his chest. "Look at me," he ordered. You obeyed, albeit hesitantly, on the first command.

"Such obedience," he praised. "You love it when I fuck you like this? When I force open your legs and take what is mine?" You wanted to shake your head and throw your hands and shove him off, but you were trapped and already broken in enough. His free hand grabbed at your thigh and clawed into your flesh, tearing you apart like he was doing to you now.

"Of course, you do. I know you do," he continued. His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher into you in a way that made it hard to contain moans that came from the sick pleasure curling within you, burning in your belly and fueling the tears in your eyes. But you were quieter than before, your sobs realizing they were getting you nowhere and accepting that this would be your life now. You could do nothing but lay there and take it as he fucked you, taking his pleasure from you like he would the spoils of war.

And he lasted too long. He held you down and kissed and bit and sucked and clawed at your flesh. He taunted and teased you, made you cum at least twice more with his insistent fingers as the pleasure seared in your belly like a corrosive flame ruining you from the inside out. You winced and whimpered and could do no more.

You didn't know how long you were there. It felt like forever, his relentless thrusts becoming numb to your sore body as you let him use you.

He sat up, pulling you into his lap as he fucked you in a newer, deeper angle. "I'm going to breed you now," he smirked, his strong hands keeping you close as he impaled you on his cock with a new determination. His white hair had fallen messily in his eyes by now, his lips pink and his eyes blown wide with lust.

"Would you like that? Would you like me to plant my seed in your quivering little cunt and make you an heir?" You stared up at him, your eyes tired as you watched him taunt you. Apparently, the question had not been rhetorical as his hand grips your jaw again and sets your head straight. "Answer me, little cat."

A war went off in your mind. If you said no, he'd likely to subject you to more horror, drag out the moment longer than he needed just to make you endure this torture a little while longer. If you came again, the shame would be so thick and so deep, you likely would not survive it.

But if you agreed to him, you would be admitting defeat. You would officially be his little plaything for him to use whenever he felt a little too pent up one moment or bored the next.

But another moment of this would bring more emotional turmoil than you have the heart for right now…

"Well?" he wondered, grinding his hips deep within you as he continued to claw your face, barely holding on enough as his head bowed with his thrusts. You whispered, but he just tilted his head to listen closer to your barely audible voice. "What?"

"Yes…" you whispered.

"Yes, what? What would you like, little cat?" he smiled wide, triumphant in his ability to break you so easily.

You swallowed thickly, your saliva like syrup at the embarrassment. "Yes, Prince Daemon… I want," a new, tiny sob choked out of you as the words stuck in your throat, "I want you to…to breed me."

The pride shone in his gaze like the sun, harsh and bright. "That's a very good girl, you are. I'm so very proud of you," he said as he kissed you roughly again. His hips began to snap harder into your once more, and you felt the unsteadiness of the rhythm, the desperation of the chase for his release hot in your belly.

And when he came, he pulled you down by his hips and pushed so deeply inside of you, it hurt. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, reaching his peak with a roar as he spilled his hot, fiery cum inside of your cunt and fucked it in to stay. You mewled and grabbed uncomfortably at his arms as you lay through the whole ordeal, hating his grabby hands and his thick, pulsing cock and his depraved sounds above you. The warmth filled you like tar.

He cursed under his breath in a language foreign to you. After grinding his hips for longer than he needed, he finally pulled out of you and put an end to your misery. You sighed in relief, laying back as he sat up and removed his heavy weight from your body.

He stared down at you, completely flustered and spent but well enough to tease some more. "Look at you," he shook his head. "Pathetic whore hungry for my cock."

You didn't look at him, turning your head to the side and laying there as he kept your legs open with his body between yours. He chuckled deep in his throat and smacked your side, earning little more than a near silent yelp.

You flinched when his hand found your cunt again, this time filled and smeared with both your cum and his. His long middle finger shoved inside of you and then back inside. With no warning, he placed his hand at your mouth. Another fight kicked through your veins, though noticeably less fueled than the last.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Open your mouth and see how well we taste together, little cat. If you don't, I have other things I can do with that little mouth of yours."

His threat was clear as day as you obeyed. Cracking your mouth open, he smeared your mixed release over your lips again and finally delved into your mouth to make you lick every single drop from his fingers. It was salty and sweet, and you hated it.

"Such a good, pathetic little girl, you are." He pulled his fingers from your mouth and sighed longingly. "Was that so hard?"

He shoved you off his lap, discarding you like trash as he stood to tidy himself once more. And once he finished, he blew out the remaining candles in the room and spared you not a single glance and not a single word more. He rolled over on the bed beside you and eased himself to sleep.

You lay there, staring at the sealing as the soreness in your limbs spread deeper and deeper until it reached your very soul. A heaviness took you, weighed down your heart until you were naught but a body on a bed next to a dark prince. A numbness ate away at your toes, at your fingertips, until the even numbness disappeared and was replaced by a terrible grief when the thoughts of the night flashed behind your eyes like a terrible dream.

And you began to sob. Softly, as not to wake Daemon and invoke him into another frenzy, you cried and hated the way it did not cleanse your soul. You belonged to him, his little wife, his little cat to prey on. You were just a dragon's whore now. Nothing more, nothing less.

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[xdead-writers-societyx]

Sȳz Riña

Synopsis: When your two dragons catch you dancing with another Lord, it's safe to say neither is best pleased. Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Warnings: General HoTD shenanigans such as sexual themes-oral, penetration, spanking, threesome- incest, vulgar language, and the sort so please if any such things make you uncomfortable or if you're underage do not engage with this post or I will feed you to my dragon!

1,955 words

A/N: I'm just so down bad for these two I couldn't help it, I'm sorry!

With your hand clasping tightly to the skirts of your dress you danced around the room in circles laughing politely with your partner, some Lannister Lord or another whose name you couldn’t really recall holding happily onto his hand while he spun you merrily around the marbled floor. Glancing towards the royal table you caught the gaze of your blatantly bored older sister from where she was perched beside the King, that was until your eyes drifted across instead capturing those of a dragon.

A fire was ablaze behind Daemon Targaryen’s violet eyes as he watched you floating across the floor with your hand entwined with another mans. Casting a glance to his side he saw his wife with a similar fire simmering behind her own as she tightly gripped her goblet taking a rather large drink of the sweet wine in an attempt to smother her own fire.

Having noticed them staring you smirked amused at the sight of your two dragons teetering on the verge of burning Kings Landing to the ground so you turned now wrapping your arm around the neck of the young Lord pressing yourself against him to whisper in his ear, “This has been lovely though I’m afraid I must cut our dance short my Lord.”

Before there was any chance of a reply a large hand was wrapped firmly around your wrist spinning you until you were faced with the leather-clad chest of Daemon. Your nameless Lord excused himself as the Rogue Prince’s wrathful glare bore down upon him, “Rhaenyra is quite tired, and it appears that you have had more than enough to drink Dōna Riña. We shall be retiring to our chambers for the night.” His voice was no more than a harsh whisper against your ear as the heat of his breath upon your face ignited something deep in your stomach. (Sweet Girl)

Staring up at him wide-eyed and pleading a sorrowful pout pulled at your lips, “But I’m having such a nice time with Lord Lannister, Ñuha Dārilaros.” Your voice dropped to a sultry purr at the end of your sentence knowing very well the effect your use of his ancestorial language had on the man. (My Prince)

His hand moved quick as a whip from your wrist to grasp the nape of your neck roughly yanking you closer to his strong body forcing you to face him, “Do not make me take you here in front of all these people.” Leaning down he pressed a searing kiss upon the shell of your ear before continuing, “We both know that I would do so with no quarrels.”

This pulled a whine from your parted lips knowing that he was being completely truthful and would gladly follow through on his threat, so you nodded. Seemingly satisfied with your submission he took a hold of your hand using it to lead you through the crowd of dancing bodies, into the halls of the Red Keep and all the way back to the chambers you were occupying where Rhaenyra was already awaiting the two of you.

Upon entry your eyes widened as you stared shamelessly at Rhaenyra whose bare body was proudly on display lounging across the bed her ringed fingers gently smoothing over the silken sheets. Your already hazy mind drifted even further at the sight of her unceremoniously dropping Daemons hand your steps quickening in your rush to launch yourself above her lips immediately seeking out her own.

She laughed softly at your antics before reciprocating your affections her soft pink lips now moving in tandem with your own, moaning against her you made a move to deepen the kiss only for her warm hands to take hold of your cheeks lifting your face so you could see each other, “I thought mayhap you would rather accompany Lord Lannister to his chambers tonight, Ñuha Jorrāelagon.” Despite her gentle tone, you could still see the poorly concealed embers simmering deep inside of her. (My Love)

Suddenly a pair of rough hands were lifting you from your position atop the Princess instead having you stand upon the cold stone floor of your chambers, “I have half a mind to go back out there and take that Lannister cunts head for the audacity to touch what is ours.” Daemons voice was firm with no hint of a jest in his voice as he spoke, his fingers expertly working to loosen the ties of your dress, “Don’t think you will not be paying for the fun you had yourself tonight.”

Due to the fact that he couldn’t possibly see your face you dared to roll your eyes at the overly possessive Prince, “I hardly think that I did anything wrong with a simple dance.” You drawled while accepting Rhaenyra’s offered hand as you stepped from the dress that now pooled around your feet, “You’d think I was on my knees sucking his cock for all to see with the way you are acting, Ñuha Dārilaros.” (My Prince)

No sooner had the words left your mouth did a soft yelp escape as Daemons hand harshly connected with the delicate flesh of your backside though it was promptly soothed by the soft hands of Rhaenyra, “The way his gaze never faltered from those marvellous tits of yours,” Daemons voice was deep with a mixture of anger and lust as his hand slithered up your body his fingers pinching cruelly at your pert nipple, “That is precisely what that cunt was thinking.”

Head shaking you decided to instead look down upon Rhaenyra your hands running smoothly over her shoulders as hers remained grasping the red flesh of your rear, “Please Nyra, speak sense to your husband.” Earning yourself yet another hard slap you huffed in feigned annoyance, “It was merely a dance, Ñuha Dāria.” (My Queen)

A contemplative noise left her as her hands ran around your body rubbing at the softness of your pillowy thighs while she slowly parted them from her seated position on the bed, “Mayhap our Sweet Girl is right, Valzȳrys.” Rhaenyra’s carnal stare held you captive as she moved to feather open mouthed kisses over your mound completely avoiding where you needed her the most, “It was after all merely a dance.” (Husband)

A jovial grin spread across your pretty face at her words your hand weaving itself through the bright tresses desperately urging her closer till she happily darted her wet tongue out to tease over your needy clit.

Palms still full of your heaving breasts Daemon removed his face from where it had been nestled into your neck delivering a series of delicious kisses and dizzying bites, “You are too quick to give into her every demand, Ābrazȳrys.” Despite his chiding words he easily manoeuvred you from the warmth of Rhaenyra’s mouth before carefully tossing you into the centre of the large bed. (Wife)

Finding himself as the only one remaining clothed you watched with heavy breaths as Daemon started slowly removing his garments starting firstly with Dark Sister which was hanging comfortably from his lithe hips, “Nyra..” Whining pleadingly for her she smirked crawling over to you till she lay with an elbow propping her up greedily taking your hard nipple into her mouth.

“Spread your legs.” Before you even had the chance to comprehend the command your legs had fallen open of their own volition as Daemon loomed above you his leaking cock heavy in his hand, stroking it as his sinful eyes never wavered from the attack Rhaenyra was laying upon your tits, “There’s our Good Girl.”

“Sȳz Riña.” Rhaenyra purred her agreement as she removed herself from you swinging her leg over your body and positioning herself to straddle your chest while her hands lovingly caressed your heated face. (Good Girl)

The intrusion of Daemon's finger entering you had your eyes widening and a wanton moan clawing from deep inside you, “I’m going to fuck you.” He spoke clearly his chin sitting atop Rhaenyra’s shoulder allowing him to stare down at your flushed face for any sign of discomfort as he added another finger beginning to thrust them slowly into your sopping hole, “And you are going to make Nyra cum on your tongue before you even think about cumming. Do you understand, Dōna Riña?” (Sweet Girl)

Nodding your head frantically your hands gripped Rhaenyra’s plush thighs in an attempt to pull her closer to your mouth, “I understand, Ñuha Dārilaros.” Grunting his approval Daemon disappeared from your sight moments before he was thrusting his hard cock deep inside your tight hole, “Fuck..” Taking this as her cue Rhaenyra turned herself around before lowering herself softly onto your face her hands fondling with your tits willingly taking everything that you had to offer her.

Tossing herself forward in her throes of pleasure Rhaenyra’s hips worked hard as she ground herself energetically against your skilled tongue that worked fervently to bring forth her release, her own tongue tangled against that of her husband the pair sharing a passionate kiss full of love and lust while Daemons thick cock was fucking into you at a brutal pace leading you to a fast-approaching high.

“Don’t stop Sweet Girl, you’re doing so well!” Moaning noisily Rhaenyra’s damp forehead pressed upon her husband’s strong shoulder as pleasure slowly overtook her, “Fuck, right there!” Removing a hand from her thigh you coated two fingers in her wetness before pushing them into her quivering hole which is all it took for the dam to break her sinful cries echoing throughout the room while you fucked her gently through her high.

Rhaenyra’s limp body collapsed beside you her head resting comfortably on your still-heaving chest her hand snaking to join her husband’s cock as his thrust became harder his hand moving to apply pressure to the delicate column of your throat, “Such a fucking Good Girl making her Queen cum so hard.” Keening happily at his praise you clenched around him as Rhaenyra’s expert fingers worked circles against your throbbing clit, “Fuck! I shall fill your pretty cunt full of my dragonseed.” Groaning as you gripped him tighter his body lowered capturing your lips in a searing kiss being sure to do the same to his wife as her ministrations against you sped up, “Would Īlva Sȳz Riña like that?” (Our Good Girl)

“Please..” Whimpering your hand tugged harshly against his silver locks the merciless pounding of his cock driving you impossibly closer to the edge of your high, “I want it all. Kostilus, Ñuha Dārilaros.” Your breathy words seemed to have their desired effect as the muscled body above you tensed a series of vulgar grunts leaving his parted lips as he fucked you full of his cum which was enough to tip you over the edge your tight cunt clenching around him milking every drop until his exhausted body slumped atop you. (Please, My Prince)

Laughing quietly at the sight Rhaenyra removed her hand from between the two of you moving from the bed to clean herself before returning mere minutes later with a damp cloth in hand, “Let her breathe Daemon!” Chastising him she shoved the larger man from you till he lay breathless and panting beside you while she cleaned you carefully aware of how sensitive you were, “That’s much better Dōna Riña.” (Sweet Girl)

Settling herself into your side she scattered mellow kisses all across your blissful face, “If I see that cunt so much as look at you again, I shall take Dark Sister to his head.” Having regained his breath Daemon grumbled earnestly rolling onto his side to kiss your temple his arm laying across your waist positioning you flush against him his hand rubbing patterns into the skin of Rhaenyra’s hip.

[i-am-so-riddikulus]

A Nightly Stroll

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary: pure smut, reader has had a low key thing for Daemon for years, now he feels the same way

A/N: I have been on hiatus for a while, and now that I am in college, I felt that I finally had time for writing. I dearly missed it, but with many familial issues and mental health, it was best not to for a while. I hope to still write well for you all :)  also this is my first smut so im sorry if it sucks (still obsessed with episode 4’s scene)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut, non-con, vaginal, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), age-gap, breeding kink, fem reader, im sorry if i missed anything else

“My Lady?”

“Are you okay?”

Their words felt worlds away once you heard your sister would be marrying the King, your best friend's father. Not only did she help you every step of the way through your mother’s death, but she helped when Rhaenyra’s passed as well. She was some sort of a rock for the both of you and now she’s gone with your father, now she’s your Queen.

Feeling the frustration build up, you left the council meeting immediately, Rhaenyra not far behind you. There was no way that you were going to sit there and listen to people who don’t care try to explain why this would be good for the realm.

You sat in the Godswood, the grip on your book as you thought about the day you lost one of your best friends. There was nothing that could describe the loneliness that you had felt now, first Alicent Hightower, now the Queen, had married the king, and then your best friend left for a tour of men that wanted to marry her. You couldn’t be upset with Rhaenyra, she is the Princess after all, and the heir to the Iron Throne, much to Daemon’s dismay.

You had heard of his victories in the Stepstones, and you wondered if he was coming back to the capitol soon. Daemon had been someone that you had always observed in your time at the Red Keep. His chaotic nature was always one that was entertaining to watch, let alone the glances that he held towards you when no one else was looking.

It’s not like you had one-on-one time with the Prince, you had talked with him amongst many other people, but you couldn’t help but to wish that once, he would come up to you on his own. He never did, and once he was exiled, the court became a tedious task for you.

You were brought out of your thoughts once you heard the distant murmur of people talking excitedly, footsteps equally as exhilarated. Without thinking, you left your book to see what the commotion was about, not having heard the excitement of people in over two months. Your jaw dropped as you saw Rhaenyra walking through the hall, not taking anytime as you ran towards her. You collided roughly, Rhaenyra laughing as she embraced you as well, “Oh my Rhaenyra you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” you whine to her as you hold each other.

“No Y/N, I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed you,” she chuckles out.

You sit there for another moment before you pull away, “I thought your tour was much longer,” you say as you fix your hair and dress.

“You were right in your thoughts, I wasn’t even finished with half of my tour. I just couldn’t stand listening to men talk about how much they wanted my Valeryian blood for their future babes,” she sighed.

You laughed slightly, “Well I wouldn’t look at it that way, Princess. You are the future Queen, and the fact that you have a choice in the matter is something that a lot don’t have.”

She looks at you with a somber expression, “Well at least your father doesn’t want you to marry some man with a big castle to ensure his line doesn’t end.”

“No, he has no care for me anymore, not since he married my sister away to the King. It seems that he is no longer attentive to anything I do, he hasn’t even talked to me since Prince Aegon was born,” you barely whisper.

Rhaenyra grabbed your hands, “Y/N, you don’t deserve that, one day someone will give you the attention you deserve,” she smiled sweetly, starting to walk off, “though I fear it’s time to go into the court now, since Daemon is back. I know father won’t be too happy seeing me walk in.”

She looked at you once again before entering the throne room, half of the Kingsguard in front of her. You watched her enter the throne room, hoping the King would go easy on her. As soon as you saw her figure vanish, the words dawned on you. Daemon is back! No wonder everyone was hustling about, the exiled Prince was back. You wasted no time in accompanying everyone else into the throne room, eager to see the Prince you missed.

It was shockingly quiet as Daemon walked towards the King, as if the whole room were their breath. Daemon had on a crown, and to your own pleasure, his hair was cut. There was some conversation, he bowed to King Viserys, declared him his King, and handed him his crown. The King then put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and when Daemon rested his forehead on his shoulder, you knew he had found some sort of peace within himself.

It seemed as if everyone had forgiven Daemon for everything he had done in the past, and the King seemed to be enjoying himself more than ever with his brother. You had been sitting alone on a bench watching the King, his brother, and his daughter speak, when your sister came next to you. As soon as you saw her, your smile faded. She had aided in your loneliness, claiming she had a husband and children to take care of so she could no longer spend time with you. You would never admit it to her, but her carelessness in you left a large wound. “Hello my dear sister,” she had said as she sat down.

“Hello my Queen, to what do I owe the pleasure?” you couldn’t help the sarcasm.

“Well, I just wanted to talk to my sister, I feel as though we’ve grown apart as of late,” she sighed. She feels as though you’ve grown apart? It’s all her doing.

“Well my Queen, it wouldn’t have been like this if you chose to care for your sister, maybe listen to the small things she wanted to say, with no one else around,” the anger evident in your tone.

“Y/N, I’m very sorry-”

“Does there seem to be an issue here?” Rhaenyra’s voice spoke.

“Not at all, Princess, I was just leaving,” and with that you left for an area that was empty in the corner.

You were mulling over the conversation you had with your sister, how could she think that you were at all to blame for your separation. Your father, who was one of the most powerful men in the Realm couldn’t even care for anything you did nor said because of her, and then she chooses to not speak with you or have contact. No. This was her doing, not yours.

The grapes you were eating felt amazing against your tongue, it had been a while since you had this simple fruit. Lost in the fruit, you hadn’t noticed Daemon behind you, “Excuse me my Lady, but I seemed to have seen some trouble with the Queen a moment ago?”

Almost choking on the grape you were eating, “Uh no not at all my Prince, why would you say that?”

“Hm, it seemed to me like you were very uncomfortable, and my dear niece had to break up whatever was going on. I promise I was not the only one that saw.” His head was now cocked to the side, a small smirk playing on his lips.

He had never shown any interest in you besides the occasional look, or conversation that you were dragged in by Rhaenyra, so why speak now? “You seem to have grown a lot since we last met, Lady Hightower.” he spoke.

Your cheeks flushed, “You as well my Prince, it seems that time can do a lot to oneself.”

“Yes I would say so,” he chuckled slightly, “I’m surprised your father has not married you off yet, you are a woman now, he must have to fight through suitors.”

You look down at your feet, feeling yourself pick at your cuticles, something your father tried to get you to stop doing for years, “Well, now that his daughter is married to the King, he needs no purpose for me. He’s as high as he can go in his position. I’m the youngest, and I’m not suitable for a family, or so he tells me.”

You hear Daemon tsk, and his hand cups your lower face, “No my dear, I know you would look astounding carrying a child, having your womb full.” he whispers the last bit, feeling his breath on your face.

Your eyes can’t help but to flutter shut, your heartrate picking up, your breathing quickening. Nothing had made you feel this way, and you even forgot you were in the middle of a courtyard. But just as quickly as the interaction happened, he pulled his hands away, “I will see you tonight at supper, my Lady,” he was gone.

Your eyes quickly scanned the area, for fear that someone had seen you. But, like you were used to, no one had noticed a thing. Daemon had already peacefully put himself back into place with the King, Rhaenyra, and your sister, almost as if nothing had happened a second ago.

In fact, you would’ve thought nothing happened, that you had hallucinated it even, if it weren’t for the way Daemon had been looking at you for the whole of the evening. Normally dinners were very quiet, or if someone had spoken, the conversation never would have included you. But tonight the table was very talkative with Rhaenyra and Daemon being back, so many questions, so many answers, and even more glares from Viserys to Rhaenyra.

When Daemon had been asked many questions about the war, he somehow always managed to ask you something and include you in the conversation, seemingly interested in what little you did around King’s Landing while he was gone. No matter the boringness of your answer, he always seemed delighted to listen, his intent and strong on your form.

Dinner ended more expeditiously than you hoped for, and before you knew it, it was time to head to your chambers. Yet, the room felt… off. Your books were where you left them, bed made, candles lit, what could possibly be the issue? Your intuition proved to be right once you saw a small roll of parchment. The parchment read, “Dear Lady Y/N, I would love if you were to accompany me tonight on a nightly stroll, perhaps we could even see some night life with the common people, please meet by the gates if you would like to join.”

Although the name wasn’t signed, you had a clear idea on who would’ve sent that letter. It took no more than a few minutes to turn from your nightgown to your inconspicuous clothing to meet whoever wrote the letter. Not being important enough to have someone guard your doors, it was an easy slip out. Something that had not been easy was breathing once you realized your assumption was wrong. For some wild reason, you had thought that Rhaenyra wanted to go sneak out with you, but in reality it was Daemon. Your head felt dizzy, heartbeat racing once you realized the Prince wanted to spend the time with you.

His clothing was simple, a hood with some common clothing to hide his Targaryen signature hair. His smile was something else, and you would have sworn he saw a throne instead of you. Approaching him you bowed, “My Prince,”

He hurriedly made you upright, “Sh, Y/N, you do not need to call me prince anymore, just call me Daemon.”

“Ah yes of course… Daemon.” you said.

His hand grabbed yours as he pulled you towards the city. This was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You had been through the city multiple times, but never at night. The people were all having fun, singing, laughing, eating, and drinking. It felt nice to be outside of the walls, outside of the rules, just here to do anything you want.

Daemon first took you to a tavern in the city. The music was loud, but the men carrying the jugs of ale were louder. He wasted no time in buying you both some ale, even though you insisted on some wine instead. “You have been shielded from the life of many with the Red Keep’s wine, it’s time you now taste what a real drink tastes like,” he slid over your ale, encouraging you to take a sip.

After a brief contemplation, you brought the drink up to your lips, the bitterness immediately causing your face to turn. Daemon laughed at your expression, chugging his own down as if it were nothing. The burn it left on your throat actually felt quite nice after many more sips.

You had felt the effects of the ale start to kick in, the liquid slightly affecting your judgment. Daemon just sitting there had made you blush, your whole being just feeling on fire under his gaze. His hand reached out to yours to take it once again, wanting to take you somewhere else. The alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were on top of the world, and there was not a care in the entire Realm that would change that right now.

Down the alley, you noticed there were less and less people. But the distant sounds were an indication to where you may have been headed. Daemon’s hood came off once you entered the building, his hands taking your hat off as well. Confusion ran through you as to why he chose now to remove your disguises. The people around you were all in pleasure. Seemingly, they were their true selves, finding their own true pleasure. You knew now where you were.

Daemon stopped leading you after you had stepped into a more private room, the only thing that was shielded from you were the bodies of everyone else, but their moans stayed. You could feel Daemon behind you, his body warmth palpable. Your heart rate quickened, breathing becoming shallow, the true weight of where you were setting in. “You see Y/N, marriage is a duty, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun,” his breath fanning over your ear, “In many marriages, marriage is one thing, and your own pleasure is another. I’m here to offer you a marriage that is not separated from pleasure, one that is full of only indulgence.”

Your lungs felt shallow as you took in his words, now feeling his entire front along your back. How could you say no in this condition? His hand brushed your shoulder, your hand in turn cupping it. “I’d be honored to accept your offer,” you turned to face him, “my Prince.”

His jaw clenched slightly before his hands reached to grab your face, pulling you in for a kiss. It was fervent, almost as if he’d been waiting years to kiss you. Your arms reached up, one on his chest, the other on the back of his neck. You could taste the ale on his lips, the taste assisting in your enjoyment. His mouth switched to your neck, pushing your back against the wall. The cold wall felt strangely thrilling on your back, coaxing a slight moan from you. You could feel the smirk on your neck.

He pulled away, looking at you once more before kissing you again. His hands traveled to your pants, pulling them down swiftly, next was your shirt. Turning your front against the wall once again, you moaned as his hands cupped your breasts, massaging them as he kissed up your neck. His hand traveled down your stomach, stopping to rub small circles on your clit, “Tonight I’m going to make you a real woman.”

Feeling his bulge on your ass, you rocked your hips into his, causing a small hiss from him, “well, well, someone is needy,” he ran his fingers along your slit, “looks like you’re all ready for me anyway.”

Turning you around once again, he pulled his own pants down, then continuing to grab your legs around his waist, rubbing the tip along your folds. Letting out a small moan, your head leaned back, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him nudge against your clit. He slipped in, inch by inch, careful to not hurt you your first time. His head laid against your forehead while he let you adjust.

You tried hard to not focus on the pain, so instead you pulled his face in for a kiss. This one was gentle as he slowly started to move his hips. With each thrust, you could feel the pain ebb away, and soon it turned into pleasure unlike anything you had felt before. His hand grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers, while the other sat on your hip. With one thrust he hit a particular spot, causing you to release a deep moan. This caused him to increase his pace, his other hand joining your hips. The increase in speed felt amazing, “oh yes, Daemon, please,” you moaned out and with each thrust, his abdomen rubbed against your clit deliciously.

You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, every little touch on your body adding to the sensation. The sound of skin slapping was so erotic, and the stench of sex filled the room. “Gods Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around me, letting me fuck you in this pleasure house,” he released a slight moan, “taking my cock so well.”

His words of praise sent you over the edge. Letting out a satisfied moan, your walls fluttered around his cock. His pace became quicker, seeking his own release. You let out a small whine at the overstimulation, causing him to grab your neck, his mouth coming to your ear, “I’m going to fill you up so well, and your cunt is going to take it,” his had moved to your clit, rubbing circles, “tell me you want my cum.”

Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, a second orgasm building quickly, “please fill me with your seed Daemon, fill me until I’m dripping, until I’m stuffed!” And on your final word, you came together, him letting out a guttural moan as his head laid in your neck, feeling each spurt hot cum fill you up.

It took him a moment before he pulled out, still out of breath. You felt so empty without him being inside you, feeling his seed drip out of you. Your legs almost gave out as they hit the floor, but Daemon caught you before they could.

He chuckled at the sight of you all fucked out by him. “You know, I went very easy on you. Our wedding night will be much different than this.”

Still moderately feeling the high of your orgasm, “Yes well I hope there will be a bed,” you said, laughing slightly.

He kissed your forehead, looking at you smiling, “Yes my darling, there will be a bed.”

[themotherofblood]

Hey dear! I saw that you are accepting requests and would like to know if I can get an imagine nsfw with Daemon x poc fem! reader (may be Dornish) who was a dancer before marrying him, but she still has the activity as a hobby and one night when she misses dinner, worried Daem goes after her and finds her dancing, please?( feel free to ignore and sorry for my english)

I absolutely love this ask, however there will only be a small implementation of culture.

ghugroo~ an anklet made of gold bells and a red cloth, worn to dance classical south Asian styles.

masterlist | Part 2

smut, softie daemon (oral f) voyuerism-ish, tw: mentions of prostitution, purity culture and Otto Hightower

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

The floor of the Mirrored Place was cold under your bare feet, the entire palace was dim; other than a few candles that reflected light from one mirror to the other. Leaving the barren hall with a warm glow. There used to be much light in this hall before; when your mother and you danced. The entire Dornish court would gather to enjoy in the art your had inherited from her.

She was a Lysenese courtesan, thought to please men with her dancing from a young age. Her will to dance was different, not because it earned her a coin but she found solace in the sound of the music playing for her body to move on her own terms.

You were raised within the group of these courtesans, a sister hood that protected you at all costs. The reason you learned to dance was for the sheer entertainment of the other sisters, and an unshaken will to mirror everything your mother did. However everyone of them knew your fate since the day you learned to walk, you too would inherit the title of court dancer at the ripe age of five and ten. They protected you still, keeping you hidden in the back of the numbers performed.

Then came along Qoren Martell, on his many ventured to Essos and a budding relationship with the Triarchy, he had found your mother dancing for the Lys court; he had eyes for her and only her after that. The deal may have not been affluential and yet he returned home with your mother and a sister for his daughter Aliandra.

The court at Sunspear was different, mother only danced for familial festivals and taught various girls at court to dance for her joy. No one quite picked it up like you did. Qoren had an entire place made for her, the interior made completely of mirrors for her to dance in.

She passed ten summers before.

You danced for her memory, not on familial events or as a courtesan, Qoren would have anyone’s head if they even mentioned the possibility to you, as far as he cared you were his daughter. Blood or not. You danced in the secrecy of this abandoned palace, alone where only the walls could hear the jangles of your mother’s given ghungroos

That brought you today, and what ails your troubles.

Your marriage to prince Daemon Targaryen wasn’t one of secret, Daemon was sent as envoy from King’s Landing, hoping to settle the issue in the Stepstones. Again, the deal wasn’t particularly affluential, yet the Targaryen prince gained a wife. You.

It was a quaint Valyrian traditional wedding, one with your approval.

You’d fallen for the prince, and what was Qoren to do? Tell his beloved flower no? No she couldn’t have the dragon prince that wanted her just as much.

A royal wedding without the approval of king or his court was a dangerous affair, hence both you and Daemon remained at Old Palce, awaiting news. Whether you’d be presented or court or if Daemon was to whisk you away on his dragon to Pentos.

Daemon only grunted and groaned when you asked who would oppose what the dragon prince wanted

“Otto Hightower.”

Daemon’s words came true like a dying wish, a raven did indeed arrive from king’s landing that Qoren showed you first.

Vile words were used against you, as the king’s hand gathered information of your parentage and the two years you had worked as a court dancer with your mother.

Not that they were lies; you were a bastard, not even a Sand. Yet Qoren had fought tooth and nail to title you and your mother as princesses. Moreover they questioned your purity and how it would muddle the pure Targaryen blood Daemon seems to possess, concerns of what influence I might impose on his daughter by his late lady wife Laena. You grimaced at the thought of even teaching those young girls what the court at king’s landing insinuated. They weren’t wrong in their concerns, and here you hadn’t even told him you danced let alone that you were a courtesan.

Qoren believed that if he could have wed your mother while begin the head of the Martell family, what is a mere second son who cannot accept the apple of Qoren’s eyes. You had left the matter at that, hoping to just let it drown behind your thoughts.

Daemon wouldn’t shun you for this…would he?

The family had gathered for supper, rather large sum of Sand sisters and Aliandra along with your husband and your step daughters. Qoren frowned at your empty seat though he knew exactly where you would have gone after reading that letter.

You’d bent down to ties the ribbons securely against your ankles, the gold ghungroos held weight to them, yet for you moving them was as fluid as a swan. You tapped your feet twice, feeling the tightness of them before exhaling a ragged breath. You tucked the loose end of your shawl on the waist line of your skirts.

Your imagination did the work for you, hearing the beat of the percussion and flute in your head as you hummed the melody under your breath, rhythmic jangles of the bells on your ankles began to echo through the hall. You closed you eyes, picturing your mother dancing next to you. The smile on her face, finally dancing for her love of the art and not the perversions of men.

Your skirt flared out as your twirled, glimmering in the light of the candles, you kept dancing. Following every count in your head as you hands remembered the signs to make. The hard your feet tapped against the marble floors the louder the jangles echoed.

Your life wouldn’t be different if Daemon left you for knowing the truth, but you wondered if anyone would want you because of what you were forced to be. You moved around the room efffortlessly, you hips swaying at the imaginary sound of the strings.

You hadn’t realized your eyes watered until you flinched in fear, watching your husband leaning against the grand posts of the mirrored hall. You stopped, the twirl of your skirts coming to stop and pool around your legs.

His palms crashed together in an applause, a smile of admiration of his face. You noticed the parchment in his hands and he noticed you eyeing the message.

“Do you truly think I care if you were a courtesan?” He shook his head, moving towards you “You were a child.” He scoffed.

You blinked the tears of concern away, you couldn't help from a few others falling free too

“My mother found her prince in Qoren, I believed so had I in you and then this.” You felt vulnerable, “I would never expose your daughters to such vulgarity, that's why I never danced for them and I was pure on our wedding night; I swear it. I wou-” You rambled on, Daemon’s eyes softened as he held you face, he held moved his thumb atop your lip to shush you

“My love isn't so fickle that bloodless sheets would diminish its fire. You are mine, and I yours. I sweared it by fire and blood sweet girl.” He reassured you “That ought to mean something?”

“You would forsake your family for me?” You shook your head, unwanting of such loyalty.

“That cunt of hand is not my family, these are his words; not my brother’s” He sounded irked at the parchment. “I will present you to the court as a good and honourable princess of Dorne, if anyone has objections they may rely on it to Dark Sister.”

You were left speechless, perhaps you had found the right prince after all. You tried to make words form at the tip of your tongue and yet nothing came through

“And as for you dancing,” His voice lowered “You ought dance for your lord husband more often.”

You swatted his shoulder before throwing yourself at him, you nuzzled your face at the crook of his neck. He moved her head, letting his lips capture yours, moulding them and taking charge; exploring your mouth with his tongue. He had been so heated about it you had to pull away to breathe

“Caught me a little dancer.” He whispered, bending down to lift your over his shoulder

“Daemon!” You shrieked “What are you doing!”

“Admiring the art.”

He plopped you down onto the viewing nest, a collection of heavy comforters a pillows that were laid at the edges of the halls for people to lounge.

“We can’t- what if somebody catches us?” You argued as he adamantly began to to strip you like a child pawing at his present.

“Then they will find a prince worshipping his princess.” He said in annoyance, huffing at all the ties on your blouse. He then reached for his inner pockets and threw a key your way.

You sighed in relief, the doors to the palace were locked.

“So fucking beautiful,” He groaned as you breasts spilt free of it entrapment, he immediately latched on the pebbled flesh, suckling on one as her tweaked the other. You chest heaved, feeling his warm mouth assault your breasts. He unlatched himself before paying attention the the other.

“My pretty little wife.” He breathed out, pushing your skirts up and yanking the cotton leggings underneath off your legs. He leaned back onto his legs admiring your cunt, he let a glob of spit dribble onto your folds as his fingers smeared them all over.

One hand working on the eager bundle of nerves and the others scissored at you insides, that familiar warmth of pleasure began to spread through your body as whimpered from your husband. You ghungroo’s jangling as you spread your legs further. Daemon latched himself onto your bud, frantically licking at the little things. You shrieked out his name, feeling him smirk as he took you apart on his mouth.

Just as you reached the precipice of your pleasure he pulled away. A shameless whine tore through you making Daemon chuckle, “All in sweet time princess, just getting you ready for me.” He idly rubbed circles on your rose bud

“Daemon just fuck me.” You groaned in frustration making your husband’s eyes.

“Such filthy words, sweet girl.” He taunted, nearly pushing your legs to your shoulders, even the little strums of the bells on your ankles were taunting you.

“Please, please Daemon,” you whined pleadingly as he ran the leaky tip of his cock through your folds. “I want you!”

“Good girl, begging for her husband’s cock.” He grunted as he bottomed out within you.

Barely allowing you a moment to adjusted before setting a determined pace in pounding you cunt.

You looked up at him as his long silver locks shielded your face, he leaned down to kiss your lips, biting at the bottom of your lip. The ghungroos on your ankle rhythmically jangled to the thrusting of your husband’s hips. He leaned back, throwing your legs on his shoulder as his pounding turned animalistic.

“My pretty little dancer, all mine.” He groaned

Drowning in your own pleasures your agreed in series of all yours- all yours pouring from your lips, nearly far too lost in the sensations radiating of your body. You reached your hands upwards, wanting him closer as your back arched off the ground. He wrapped his hands around you back, letting your legs hug around his lower back as he pounded you to your peak.

“Y/N- gods.” He breathed out in your ear as his cock spurted ropes of his seed in your cunt.

There was Moment of serene peace as Daemon pulled out of you and fell next to you, untill you felt his spend spilling down onto your skirts and you groaned.

“You ruined my skirt,” you pouted, grimacing at the stains

“I’ll buy you hundreds more.” He huffed out, yanking you on top of him.

Just as you helped each other straighten out, he spend a while tying the ties of your blouse, peppering kisses on your back as you undid the ghungroos, quite sure they would have bruises your ankles by now.

There was yet another topic lingering on Daemon’s tongue that he wasn’t sure how you would take

“Rhaena found out at supper that you dance, she could use a teacher…” He said hesitantly, you frowned.

“Just as you learned from your mother, our little dragons could use a lesson or two from their mother.”

You pondered and then looked to him using the word mother.

“Rhaena will make a gorgeous little dancer.”

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 3 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Summary: Things get messier as you both try to ignore the undeniable chemistry between yourselves.

Warning: 18+, smut, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking,

You were finally back home at your parent's when you realised Daemon was going to live with them, thankfully you didn't have to be there forever, you had your own place a few miles away but your parents insisted for you to stay a little longer, none of your excuses worked on them.

It's been three days since you had been here, Everytime your eyes met with Daemon you looked away, ever since he had reminded you that he remembered the night you have been avoiding him and he had noticed, of course he did.

If all of this wasn't bad enough you also overheard Cassandra fighting with him last night, well to be fair she was the one yelling and he was trying to pacify her. Later that night she entered your room with a puffed up post crying face and you somehow managed to keep her away from him after that but she seemed as if she was utterly devastated by this thing ending between them which you didn't understand..

Aemond had been in touch with you via calls and texts but you hadn't met up with him since Bali, also your ex Dylan has been calling you at least ten times a day. When Cassandra finally went back to her place the next day you walked towards Daemon's room and knocked, he had just returned from a meeting with your dad, he wanted Daemon to work for him. The richer he got the more users he befriended which wasn't good for his business and he wanted Daemon to handle his finances now. He trusted Daemon more than anyone else in his life.

Why didn't he stop him from leaving then all those years ago?

As he opened the door he was still in his business suit, he had earpods in and you realised he was on a call so you tried to excuse yourself and leave but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the room slowly, he still had his eyes on you even though he was completely engrossed in that other conversation. Okay he didn't have to be so goddamn sexy all the time.

He had his hand wrapped around your upper arm as he walked back and forth while he kept the call going, taking you along with him like a child on a ride.

"Sorry dear, I had to finish that call" he mumbled as he let go of you and put his phone down on the bed, then he took his coat off, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves one by one revealing those gorgeous forearms. You almost forgot why you were there in the first place.

"What is wrong?" He asked you so you crossed your arms together.

"What did you say to Cassandra? She's a mess..I have never seen her be this way.. usually uhhh it's the other way around" his brows furrowed as you said that.

"I told her the truth.. I'm not her boyfriend, we are not in a relationship..i had to end things so I did" he told you as he took his tie off, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his white shirt. His room smelled like his cologne, you felt the need to bask in it and snuggle to his thick daddy body but you were discussing the matters of your best friend with him instead.

"She ummm.. wants to keep the fling going" he looked at you as you said that, he wasn't fazed at all.

"I don't give a shit about what she wants darling" He snickered so you glared at him and the smirk vanished almost instantly "Why are you upset with me?" He asked you so you shrugged again,

"I am not upset with you ..uncle"

"Then why have you been ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you uncle"

Uncle uncle uncle. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be your uncle anymore.

"Alright Pixie.. whatever you say" he smiled as he walked towards his closet to grab a towel, your phone started to ring so you took it out of your pants pocket and groaned as you looked at another unknown number.

"Well I'll see you at dinner then.. uncle" you turned around swiftly to leave, closing the door on your way out. Daemon knew now that he shouldn't have slept with your best friend but he wasn't in his senses, he felt lonely and he needed someone to distract him, he had no clue Cassandra would become such a pain in the ass, he probably would have kept the thing going if she wasn't such a brat.

While in the shower he looked back at the last three days and he knew you were ignoring him ever since he had reminded you that he remembered that night when he had subtly caressed your lips and kissed your cheek followed by that not so innocent intimate hugging.

He was drunk and he had lesser control on his actions that night, he was just glad he was able to pull away at the right time. However your reaction to him was what kept him up that night, the way you clutched your fingers around his neck and hugged him so tightly was seared in his memory and now you were avoiding him.

Were you embarrassed by your reaction or you felt violated by him? He needed to make sure he hadn't done something that would make you see him differently, sure he had hots for his best friend's daughter but he wasn't going to let it ruin things between him and your family.

At the dinner table he watched you grimacing as your phone continued to bother you once in a while, as your eyes met with him he gave you a smile so you returned it. You didn't want to be rude even though you were starting to feel a bit of underserved resentment towards him.

His plan to enjoy his dinner in peace after a long day also was ruined as he watched Cassandra sauntering towards the table,

"Hello everyone" she smiled as she sat down next to you.

Throughout the dinner she continued to glare at him and even you noticed that, she has known him for mere few days so her obsessive behaviour towards him didn't make much sense to you. What did she want from him? More sex?

Once she was done eating you dragged her back to your room before she'd make a scene in front of your parents.

"Cass what are you doing? You didn't even tell me you were joining us for dinner" you asked her so she chuckled as she sat down on the bed and proceeded to cross her legs elegantly.

"Really? Now I have to take appointments to see you guys? Since when?" She asked you as she tilted her head so you sighed and walked towards her to give her a hug.

"That's not what I meant..look ..he's not the first man you have had a fling with. Why are you so affected by this?" You asked her calmly so she whined like a child.

"I don't know..I just ..I'm not used to guys breaking off things with me..you have no idea how this feels"

Well she was bothered because she hasn't been rejected before in her life? Yeah you couldn't relate.

"He's not just some guy cass..he's my ..hes..like my uncle..you knew what you were getting into right? My dad just got his friend back and I need him to stay.. please just forget about him"

"I need him back so I can reject him" she smirked and you just wanted to slap her in the face at the moment.

"You're being ridiculous" you told her plainly and all you got in response was an eye roll..

Your phone rang once again and you wanted to throw it out the window this time, you had blocked Dylan's number like five times but he was very persistent just the way he was in the beginning of your relationship with him.

As Cassandra finally left you made your way downstairs, you really needed to go out for a stroll to clear your head. On the way out your dad spotted you leaving since he was with Daemon in the living room discussing business and he was concerned that you were going out alone at such an hour so he asked Daemon if he'd mind joining you..

"Can I accompany you pixie?" Daemon asked you softly so you nodded. Well you'd let him do anything if he asked like that.

"Keep her safe mate" your dad said to him so he smiled in response..

As you began to walk away from your parents house there was an awkward silence between you two but you were the first one to break the ice.

"I can walk by myself, I'm not a kid you know" you said to him so he chuckled,

"I don't think of you as one Pixie" his rough voice gave you goosebumps, "that wouldn't discourage me from wanting to keep you safe though" you smiled as he said that

"Mmm i appreciate that"

"Are you alright? You seem a bit troubled. Who's bothering you?"

He asked so you chuckled, at least he cared. You were not used to being cared for. Sometimes you felt as if you were always there for Cassandra but she wasn't always there for you when you needed a friend to share your troubles with or just vent like a normal person..

"Well for one…Cassandra is bothering me with her constant cribbing.. and she's cribbing because of you so you're also bothering me" His smile faded as you said that ..he didn't want that for you. He never wanted to do something that would bother you.

"I'd apologise pixie but I'm not sure how I can fix the situation now "

Well don't fuck her again you thought. You suddenly felt bad about saying that to him, you didn't want to make him feel obligated for your mood swings or upset him in any way. Cassandra knew what it was from the beginning, he was honest with her, he didn't promise her the world and then broke them all.

Late at night you couldn't bear the guilt of supposedly upsetting him or making him sad so you got up and made your way to his room, you didn't have to knock as he had kept his door open.

"You're not bothering me I swear..I'm sorry i said that" you mumbled hurriedly as soon as you entered his room, he was fixing his hair so he put the comb down on the dresser and walked towards you..

"You don't have to apologise"

"I do..I keep snapping at you for no reason and it's not fair...I just forget at times that you're going through something as well and I'm..sorry " you mumbled softly so he smiled,

"I asked you a question during our stroll ..this time answer me truthfully.. Who's bothering you?" You sighed as he questioned you again, maybe sharing with him would feel better.

"It's just my ex..he keeps calling me" his brows furrowed as heard your response.

"That cheating arse?"

"Yup"

"What does he want?"

"Probably wants to get back together.. whatever..i don't even ..want to know" you shrugged as you crossed your arms together, even though deep down all you wanted to do was cry and then cry some more.

"Cheaters always cheat again.. remember that"

"Mmmhmmm ..he didn't just cheat though, he did something else too that i…" his jaw clenched and it wasn't unnoticed. What were you insinuating here? What did he do with you?

"What did he do darling?"

"It doesn't matter"

"It always does"

Your eyes teared up as you felt completely overwhelmed all of a sudden, maybe it was the concern he showed towards you that got you finally. You really weren't used to someone making you feel as if your issues mattered as well. You had the best life your parents could have given you, you were very privileged, never had to struggle for anything you wanted but that didn't mean you weren't hurt or used by other people or had your humanely emotions.

"Hey …come here" he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into his chest, as soon as you felt his warm embrace you broke down in cries, you really needed a good cry but your mind has been so occupied lately with millions of conflicting feelings that you weren't allowing yourself to have a moment of weakness.

Gods you never wanted to leave how his arms felt around you ..so strong, so protective and so very warm.

"I just…feel so inadequate sometimes" you sobbed uncontrollably between your words so he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs, you didn't want to look up, you felt afraid you'd do something stupid if you looked him in the eye..you were so close to him at the moment and you had a feeling that this was the extent of what you could get from him, there was a line that both of you couldn't have crossed..

"I know how that feels..i understand pixie..don't cry sweetheart, you're okay..I'll keep you safe..you just have to come to me" he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, skin was tingling from head to toe and you wanted him to touch you in places he would never ever touch you that way.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry" you mumbled between your hiccups so he shook his head in response,

"Shhhhh..I'll take care of you..I'm here now"

He wrapped his arms around you again and caressed your back until your sobs had diminished.

Why did he have to be your dad's friend? Why couldn't he just be another guy? Those were the thoughts swirling around your head, if he wasn't so familial you'd have made your move and kissed him by now because you really wanted to. You really wanted to just get on your tiptoes and kiss him, and then do stuff with him that would make him see you differently, anything other than the daughter of his friend.

Once you had calmed down you pulled away and finally built the nerve to look at him, his expressions were soft, the problem was that even if he was seeing you differently now none of you could have crossed that line, you would remain forbidden to him and he was to you.

"Feeling better?" He asked you so you gave him a nod and a small smile,

"Are you sleepy?"

"I am tired"

"Then you should sleep.. uncle. I'll see you tomorrow"

"Okay.. sweetheart"

"Thank you for comforting me.. I needed that"

He nodded as you said that, as you left he closed the door and then stood there with his head resting on it for what felt like eternity. When he came back he just wanted to rebuild his life here again, he hadn't forgotten what had happened between him and his friend but he wanted to give that broken relationship a second chance since he gave her a countless chances but he wasn't ready to get caught up in this mess, he never saw this coming, He never thought he'd suddenly develop sexual feelings for his supposed niece. This wasn't supposed to happen and it never should have happened.

The sexual desire combined with the emotional attachment that he already had with you since you were a child made him feel perverse, and he was afraid the longer he stays around you the worse it will get for him.

Next day he didn't see you around the house since you were at work, when you came back you had Aemond by your side and he honestly didn't know how to feel about it, he fucked your best friend so there's no way he could have asked you to not date his nephew.

He watched you giggle and laugh at whatever unfunny jokes Aemond told you at the dinner table and he found himself feeling something he had not felt in a while, he was jealous. Jealous of his own nephew making his so-called niece laugh.

As Cassandra appeared suddenly he groaned internally but pretended as if he wasn't affected by her at all.

"Hey guyyysss" she giggled as she hugged you and then she hugged Aemond , he was a bit surprised but he reciprocated the hug, then she proceeded to greet your parents.

You had an empty chair right next to you but she walked around the table and sat down right next to Daemon. Daemon couldn't help but wonder if you felt jealous of the attention he had been giving to Cassandra?

"Hey Daemon" she mumbled as she looked at him so he gave her a smile. He didn't want to be unnecessarily rude to her if she wasn't acting like a psychopath.

"I can't say how happy I am that you both are dating" she raised her glass of wine to both so you shook your head immediately.

"We are not dating..just friends" you clarified as you felt everyone's eyes on you, especially Daemon's, you wanted to hide from his intense gaze. What was he thinking? It was so weird, when you both were talking to each other there was no awkwardness at all but as soon as you both were around other people you felt such tension between you both. The sort of tension that could resolve by ripping each other's clothes off.

Maybe you needed to go back to your place soon. The longer you'd stay here the more complicated things would become between you and him.

"Mmm well that's good because honestly it's kind of weird.. I mean Aemond is Daemon's nephew and you're like his niece so that would make you both like siblings " she giggled and you just wanted to smash your head against the table. To get away from Cassandra, daemon finished his dinner quickly and headed straight for his room..

"Babe let's have a girls night, i pinged the girls to come here" Cassandra jumped up and down as you both made your way upstairs to your room after seeing off Aemond, she was crying her eyes out yesterday so this sudden change in her demeanour was nice.

"Sure..I'll be right there ..I have to go see mum first" you told her so she went to your room and you went downstairs to your parents' bedroom first but they were not there so you headed towards your dad's office. Daemon was there as well ..they were deep in the discussion while your mum was on the couch reading her book.

Daemon looked at you for a second before he looked away almost immediately..

Your mother just wanted to talk about your day to day life so after chatting with her you mumbled a good night to everyone before you went back to your room.

Girls were already drinking and playing spin the bottle when you joined them.

You felt restless, your mind wasn't at peace, you had made it clear to Aemond that you weren't looking for a relationship or dating at the moment and he was more than decent about it. He was alright being just your friend, however that wasn't the only reason why you didn't want to date him. There was one other reason, a very tall, sexy and scrumptious reason.

"Yay ..y/n's turn" Donna yelped in excitement, making you snap out of your Daemon dreaming.

"Truth or dare?" Cassandra asked you knowing really well that you'd never pick anything but the truth.

"Truth of course"

"So predictable" other girls groaned in unison and it made you smile. Was lusting after your sworn uncle predictable?

"I have a question..why does daemon call you pixie..you never told me the story? He even got your number saved with that name..just curious babe"

Cassandra questioned you and as you recalled the memory it brought a smile on your face.

"Ummm well..when I was twelve I had just returned from the boarding school after years and gotten this very bad haircut due to peer pressure..you can guess which one. I was basically inconsolable because I missed my hair and the cut didn't really suit me" you chuckled before you continued "It didn't help that dad basically made fun of me and I saw mum laughing too but then they took me to go see uncle Daemon. I had never met him before, only saw him in pictures and stuff, but as we reached his home he noticed my sniffles and my tear soaked puffy face. He then bent down to my level and cupped my cheeks to tell me that i was his darling little pixie now and would remain one forever"

He had turned one of the worst days of your life into a sweet memory that you still cherished to this day.

As you finished your story there was a pin drop silence in the room for a good few seconds before they all cooed like birds together. The memory made you feel even more conflicted now, he was your uncle and he saw you as his niece, if there was that five percent chance that he felt attracted to you as well then this must have been ten times worse for him.

"That's so adorbs ..though I gotta say he's so handsome..bumped into him downstairs" Rochelle said to you but it was Cassandra who gave her the deathly glares,

"Eyes off him alright.. it's still complicated between us"

No it wasn't complicated, he was done with her but whatever made her sleep well at night you thought.

When the bottle spinned towards Cassandra, as a dare Donna asked him to go kiss Daemon.

"I don't think that's a good idea guys" you immediately interjected but you watched Cassandra upping from her place despite your resistance and she winked before she made her way out of the room.

Daemon was about to get in bed when he heard the knock on his door, at first he thought it must have been you but he saw Cassandra just in her nightwear, standing on his door with one of her hands resting on the doorframe and other one on her waist,

"What do you want, Cassandra?" he asked her in a no-nonsense tone, his voice didn't carry any emotions for the woman standing in front of him because he didn't have any.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing and wanted to apologise about my behaviour yesterday" she mumbled sweetly so he sighed, she was a vacational rebound for him and he didn't want to hurt her at all but she was just too similar to Stella and that was what had attracted him to her at first and then put him off later,

"Alright i appreciate that" he mumbled softly and he was about to close the door when she leaped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, before he knew she was kissing him in the ways that would turn on any warm blooded man, she wasn't capable of warming his heart but his cock was a different story.

It all happened so fast after that, he fucked her quickly and right against the door, unbeknownst to him, you had come to check up on him and perhaps save him from the situation if Cassandra would blow up again but the moment you heard the sound of her moans and groans, instead of going to your room where your friends were, you ran towards the guest room and then you cried your heart out.

For once you allowed yourself to feel hurt and jealous, hurt that he slept with her again even after he knew she was being unhinged about it, and jealous because it wasn't you he was fucking against the door.

Next morning Daemon woke up with regret, not only had he encouraged Cassandra by giving into her advances but he had a feeling he had disappointed you in plenty of ways and his suspicions were confirmed when you didn't even look at him even once when he met you during breakfast.

"That old man's dick is the best dick. Period" Cassandra mumbled excitedly so you gave her a fake smile in response,

"He's not that old you know"

"Well I'm not saying it as an insult..lord I think I'm falling for his sculpted ass"

Your smile faded as she said that, this thing was about to get messier because he couldn't keep it in his pants, all men were just cunt hungry whores. Your mum was so lucky she found someone like your dad.

It was Saturday and you didn't even have the luxury of getting engrossed in work today so you spent your day trying to avoid Daemon as much as you could. It wasn't fair to him you knew that, it shouldn't have mattered to you who he fucked or how many times but it did.

In the evening while you were napping clutching onto the plushie he had given you there was a knock on the door.

You were just hoping it wasn't Cassandra and luckily it wasn't..it was Daemon instead, he had a black silk shirt on that was loosely tucked in his fitted pants, your dad was taking him out to meet some of his business partners.

"Uncle.. What can I do for you?" You asked him so he smiled and walked closer to you until he was merely inches away from you, his cologne intoxicated you as he stood so close to you. You just wanted to kiss him.

"I know you're upset"

"Why would I be upset?" You mumbled, making him give you that infuriating smile.

"You shouldn't be..but you are..y/n..we are both adults here, yes? You're dating my nephew..i sleep with your best friend, that shouldn't cause any problems between us, I don't want that"

Now you wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss him.

"You're right.. the thing is your nephew won't come crying to you if we break up but my best friend does and then it becomes my problem yes, uncle?" You told him as you raised your voice a little so he tilted his head down and glared at you. You weren't intimidated by him. Not at all. Or Maybe you were, just a little.

"Then maybe you should choose your friends wisely"

Your eyes teared up as he said that so you looked down and he immediately wanted to take his words back "I came here to apologise darling..i didn't come here to upset you further"

"Then why are you doing that!?" Your voice choked as tears began to build up so he cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead, no tears came out but you still felt the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly.

"Ask me to not sleep with her again, and I'd never touch her, if this thing bothers you so deeply then I'd never ever look at her again"

He whispered softly so you looked up at him, this was your chance to tell him that you didn't want him to sleep with her, in fact you didn't want him to sleep with anyone. But as you opened your mouth the truth just refused to come out.

"You can do whatever you want..uncle..it's not my place to ask you for such a thing. I'm just acting out because I feel overwhelmed by my privileged people problems"

He chuckled as you said that.

"At Least you're aware of that"

His fingers ruffled your hair before he kissed the top of your head and stepped away from you.

"Have fun" you told him so he nodded, he wished you had asked him to not touch Cassandra again and he'd have obliged, he cared about you and he didn't want you to feel upset by his actions or feel hurt in any ways. And there was a part of him that just wanted you to accept that you felt something more towards him, something more than just feelings you'd have for an uncle.

"Mister Daemon'" He turned around as you called for him, this was the first time you had taken his name since he had returned.

"I'm not dating or planning to date Aemond..i wouldn't want to do anything that would make you leave again for whatever reasons..i hope you feel the same way.. about staying here ..in London i mean"

You didn't ask him directly but you told him what he wanted to hear from you. You weren't going to date his nephew for his sake..So he had to cut Cassandra off completely.

He was ready for that, but then what? What would happen between you two then?

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀🙃🙃

Taglist

@serving-targaryen-realness @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @mcufan72 @insertsomethingsillyhereple-blog @silentf @ajthefujoshi @stupidthoughtsinwriting @ammo23 @shuichiakainx

[two-white-butterflies]

fuck, rich people. fucks rich people. - h. strong and d. targaryen

Description: You visit the beach and find two men that you can't resist. In which, you end up fucking both men on the countertops. (modern au) Rating: Mature 18+ (double penetration, oral [m. recieving], threesome.)

Fuck, rich people. They always seemed to have a problem of their own - most of the times they're the ones who make the problem - which led to you being stressed about work.

The beach was your favorite place - hearing the sound of the waves crashing on the shore did miracles on your mental state. It was calming, and refreshing. It was a good thing that your parents bought this beach-house, as you were the only one enjoying this scenery. 

You lean into the chair - breathing in the scent of salt in the wind. This was where you were meant to be. You take a lazy sip of the diet coke in your hands - perhaps you’d go on a swim a little later. 

Someone moves from behind you, easing the thoughts off your head. You turn your head to look at the person - and it was Daemon, your childhood friend, and Prince of Dragonstone. “I didn’t think that you’d be here,” he chuckles, holding the foldable chair near his hips. 

“I don’t think I’m ever not here,” your lips settle into a thin line. 

You haven’t seen each other in ten-years, and by the gods was he hot. Handsome to the point that you’d expect him on the cover of Calvin Klein. He had that smile - that made you think that he just finished having sex. His hair is all over the place - but at the same time, it falls perfectly into place. 

“How’s work?” he asked, folding the chair so he’d be sitting beside you. “Shit, as usual.” you answer - a chuckle escapes his mouth. “How about you? Still bothering the King?” you tease, remembering his bad-boy streak during university. He hasn’t changed - but he’s done a great job hiding his dirty laundry. 

“Oh come on, Viserys loves me.” he defended himself, staring at you with lust. He was a fucking predator - a beast in heat when he’s around you. 

“Only because he has to,” you sip on the straw, placing your phone on your lap - open for a conversation. 

Just a conversation for now. 

He pretends to search for something in his pockets, taking off his sunglasses to see better. “Shit, I totally forgot to bring any drinks - do you mind sharing?” he inquired and you nod. 

Where was this going? 

He scoots closer, bridging the wall between you. His hands reach for the can on your hand - taking his sweet moment once his hand settles on top of yours. You couldn’t remove your hands - some special force was preventing it. 

He brings the can to his lips - coating the rim with his sweet saliva. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, he removes his hand away from yours - to your surprise he wasn’t returning back to his chair. His hands were now reaching to cup your cheeks. He gives you a small kiss, letting go of you with a smile. 

“I’ll see you sometime.” he whispers, standing up and retrieving his chair. 

Working as a lawyer sucked - especially when your firm is one of the highest rated offices in New York City. You had to get out - somehow. You were on the beach the next day, but Daemon wasn’t there. His roommate, Harwin, was though - but you were unaware of this relationship. 

“It’s nice here,” Harwin smiled, writing his name on the sand. He was a jolly person to be around - he seemed to uplift other people’s mood without realizing it. “I agree,” you breathe with a chuckle - now sipping on a glass of coffee. 

You lend your hand - waiting for a handshake. “I’m (Your Name), I live in that house.” you point at the four-bedroom bungalow. He smiles at you - joy reaching his eyes. “I’m Harwin. Harwin Strong,” he shakes your hand, quickly inspecting your face. “I live in that house - I have a roommate.” he points at Daemon’s house and you nod. 

He didn’t seem like the type of guy who gets a roommate. “It’s nice meeting you,” you smiled in return. 

The devil possessed you - he lured you in with his kind smile, and now you were about to suck his cock inside a house that you weren't allowed to be in. Gods, the news outlets were going to fuck your reputation. "She's pretty huh?" Daemon tilted his head sideways, acting like you weren't in the room with them.

Harwin responded with an amused chuckle, watching you with your hands on his knees. He opened his legs wider, giving you a clearer view of his hard cock dripping with pre-cum. He cupped your cheeks gently, staring deep into your lust-filled eyes. The tabloids would have to wait - this cock in front of you was fucking delicious. You leaned down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss on his thighs.

"Good girl turning us on," Daemon growls playing with your hair - he's loved you since he was eighteen. All of his fucking teenage fantasies replayed back to this moment - his goddess on her knees like a slave.

Your tongue swirled around, pumping the mass inside your mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed. He could hardly speak with the heaven that he was feeling. You swirled your tongue around - making sure to reach every nerve ending on his penis. He moans your name, forgetting himself in the middle of bliss.

Daemon watches the both of you - turning himself on with the sight.

"Keep going," Harwin pleaded, wrapping his arms around your hair and pumping you on his length. His dick tasted salty and metallic - a faint reminder that he was human and that he tasted like a human. You gag around his length, taking your sweet time in adjusting.

You swirl your tongue again, smiling in content as his eyes flutter. Harwin was a good little boy. You licked the stripe of his length, sucking on his dick like a lollipop - fondling with your clothed pussy. They both turned you on.

You swirl your tongue.

Again.

Again and again, until his breathing heaved and tightened.

You could feel Daemon's hand on your head, bobbing you up and down the length of his roommates' dick. It only took a few moments until Harwin was spasming around your mouth.

"Open," Daemon commanded and you obeyed him - opening your mouth slightly to reveal the milky goodness underneath your tongue. He bites his lips, forcing his finger inside your mouth and splattering the cum inside. He removes his hand, wiping it on your face.

"Swallow, baby." Harwin ordered - and you found yourself obeying everything that they say.

You rise from your kneeling position.

Daemon welcomes you on top of his lap. You could feel his bulge press against you. He stares at Harwin who was still trying to regain his stance from his orgasm. "You good?" he inquires, wrapping his hands around your ass. Bouncy and firm like he likes them.

"Yeah," Harwin replies removing his shirt. "Get around her," Daemon motions, freeing his cock from his pants with ease. "You ever had two men at once," he teased, and you shake your head. "Prepare to be mind-blown," Harwin giggles, pressing his cock on your anus.

You lean slowly against Daemon's chest, providing Harwin with more angle - and Daemon lesser weight. You let out a small whimper, feeling Daemon enter your pussy. He groans feeling your tightness clamp against him.

"Dae," you moan - bouncing against him.

His tip was barely missing your womb, trailing along your cervix - making your eyes roll back.

Thank god for birth control.

He keeps pressing his cock inside - leaving you a moaning mess. He filled you with so much pressure that your cunny couldn't bare another second. You cum - squirting around his cock and leaving a white residue on his thighs.

You were about to collapse into him, but the familiar pressure began building once you feel Harwin behind you.

"Time for me, baby." he hums.

taglist: @schniiipsel @areaderinlove @edum123 @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @rozendiors @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @naturallyspontaneous @feyreduarte @hc-geralt-23 @ethereallocs @tired-ninfa  

[pinkydevil16]

Masterlist 2.0

Requests open

Wednesday masterlist

smut: 🥵

Aemond Targaryen

Series

All mine: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader

Completed

Sunshine Aemond Targaryen x Twin! Reader

Completed

One Shots

Imagine 🥵

Imagine 🥵 Sub!Aemond

Imagine

Imagine

Imagine

Imagine

Imagine

Imagine

Imagine

Jealous Imagine 🥵

Aegon x Reader x Aemond 🥵

Aegon x Reader x Aemond Jealous 🥵

Aegon Targaryen

Monster: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Completed

Obsessed: Aegon Targaryen x Sister! Reader

Ongoing

One shots:

Imagine

Imagine 🥵 Sub!Aegon

Imagine (Not romantic)

Imagine

Imagine Part 2 🥵

Imagine 🥵

Imagine 🥵 Innocent! Reader

Jealous Imagine 🥵 (implied)

Aegon x Reader x Aemond 🥵

Aegon x Reader x Aemond Jealous 🥵

Aegon x Reader x Rhaenyra

Daemon Targaryen

Series

True wife: Daemon Targaryen x Niece! Reader

Ongoing

One shots

Possessive Daemon 🥵 thoughts

Rhaenyra x Reader x Daemon 🥵

Rhaenyra Targaryen

One shots

Aegon x Reader x Rhaenyra

Rhaenyra x Reader x Daemon 🥵

Viserys Targaryen

One shots

Imagine

Jacaerys Targaryen

One shots

Imagine

Imagine 🥵

[shuichiakainx]

Daemon Targaryen in "The King of the Narrow Sea"

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Remnants

pronouns: she/her warnings: smut, use of the word ‘whore’, angst, disease, character death, fluff, infidelity, slowburn, classism at first (daemon is a shit) summary: They say that you never forget your first love but the vultures are prey to weakness and intend to infiltrate Daemon’s own desires to preserve his adere riñus (slippery girl). Some say the woman will forever remain in his conscience, guiding his bloodied sword and singing sweet lost lullabies to lay his rest. For it has been too long since the volatile dragon slept peaceful. A prince with more gold than he can keep. A prince who can demand whatever he wishes and command any army. And yet all he is left with…All he is left with are the remnants of her which he swore to cherish as religiously as he would an idol. A/N: reader has dark hair for a plot point to work but i think you can still ignore it if you want to :) dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 6,797

There is nothing like a sunset that is more comforting to him and yet his comfort is limited. How he stares at the strewn stars like figments of grace and kind. How he stares each as though in the eye and recounts sonnets as they emit. How he begs and pleads for the Gods to last the warmth of sunlight just a little longer each time. And each time it fades. Each time his eyes grasp any trace of her to sew back into his mind after it has been torn from him with viscous delight. He should have known. The Gods do not listen to begging. Not even from Crown Princes. No matter how many bottles he shatters in the heat of his dreams. He likes to think that their love was red and as flowing as his ever-heating dragon’s blood. A Syrax in its own right. But there was no Goddess of ecstasy blessing them. No. It was a curse of bluebells and belonging to that of Gaelithox, surely to punish him for his foolishness. He looks up at the sky. The dark array of black and blue. Of silver specks and promising folds of purple. There is nothing like a sunrise better to send the Rogue Prince into a spiel of decay and sickness. The absurd golden bonds squeezing out another day like an artist with their last inch of oils. The crawling brightness that comes to threaten the moon. Abysmal lies sung to him as his brother attempts to push him into seeing beauty in all that inductees his churning stomach. 

He wills the flowers to wither. 

It was under the rising sun that Daemon had stumbled and forced his way out of the obnoxious hooting Street of Silk. Perhaps he had been desiring only ale or the rancid smell of sweat to intoxicate him. At just two and twenty, he had been visiting the volatile heap of taverns and brothels for the past eight years. It was religious in his dark desires. For dragons did not obey the whims of men and Daemon did not obey the whims of his brother nor father. And certainly not the whims of his wife. His nose turns up at the thought. Marriage would not contain him like they desired and yet still, he receives the constant demands to visit her. Of course he only intends to sink them in water until soft enough to shred, rejecting their presence all together. It would be easier to burn them but he does not think them worthy of his flame. His begrudging circle had even begun threatening to hail her to the Red Keep. To keep her in his presence all torturous times of the day. He knows his mother wouldn’t have let this happen, surely. Never would she sell him like prize cattle just to tame him. He is a dragon does not fuck plain featured sheep, he burns them but he would not devour them like his brother wished. His tastes were precise and he would not settle. He is a prince. He deserves nothing less than a woman matching his silver strands. Which is what he thinks of as he stumbles through the dark night struck streets, hopefully back to the castle gates at least. He despised people seeing him in such a state but he could usually hold his liquor better than tonight. And he assures himself that all will be well…until his cloak catches on a hook and he crashes to the floor in a surge of red blurred vision. 

He blinks awake the next morrow with a pounding headache the size of Caraxes. A wince cracks at his muscles. Daemon grunts, a rough sting along his left cheekbone. A blur of dark hair and feminine presence has him assuming he had fallen asleep in the whorehouse again but instead his eyes flit across the plain room, brows pinching at the plain room. It is unfamiliar, he realises. His lips part in time for a resounding click of the unknown woman's fingers to snap him into alert. Anger swells in his chest but his limbs are weakened with exhaustion and ale. His sharp eyes choose to narrow instead as quickly as she takes a step. His brain swishes with questions. Where is he, why is he here and most importantly, who is this already insufferable cunt of a peasant? "You." He sneers, clicking his own fingers but she ignores him, returning to a small room he presumes to be a...kitchen? It is small and brown and littered with pans, some empty, some filled. "Tell me, who are you?" It is a demand. They both know it is a demand and yet it goes ignored. Rage firms his brittle state. "Answer your prince!" He stands on slightly shaky legs, uncaring to his indecent layer of clothing, or rather, lack of. His tunic...Where is his tunic? It isn't panic that raises the bile but it is discomfort. The odd woman merely chuckles at him. Anger flares once more. Daemon's swift hand snaps to his scabbard only to find it empty. "Relax, your highness," He doesn't like the mocking lilt seeping from her untrustworthy tongue. "it will be returned to you, I merely made certain you would not awaken with a missing appendage." His face scowls petulantly at her and he takes a step forward. 

Daemon builds up his broad shoulders to square though he is not entirely a man full-grown yet and his boyish features attempt to harden. Intimidation is a powerful tool he knows. "You will hand me my possessions and I will take leave far from your slums or I will–" She spins around, facing him not with fear or mal-intent but with curiosity. Her sly smirk is the first thing he notices alongside her narrowed fox-like eyes. “Or what?” She returns, impishly .His mouth hangs. She had been washing one of her thick pans but now she has tucked the pathetic wet towel into her small apron and folds her arms. The pan is left forgotten on the side after a loud clang. She raises her brows. “Or what, your highness?” She repeats as though he is nothing more than the village idiot or town fool. Begrudgingly he has never felt more like a child, not even after marrying the bronze bitch. Daemon’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. She snorts. “Will you harm a sweet village girl? Add blood to your taxes? Ah, apologies, my lord, you are no foe of such demands, you are the taker.” The snide doesn’t pass him. “No girl is of worth to a Dragon.” He says, finally regaining composure. She doesn’t cower, she sneers. “In that we can agree.” Her voice, once mellifluous and playful, now turns cold. “Except the ones fucking dragons and I assure you, I have no intentions.” He swallows, noticing just how close they have approached once the hit of warm breath fans over his mouth which towers just above her. He ignores when his eyes flicker to her wet lips. How can a peasant look so nourished? 

Daemon may ignore it but the peasant does not, her lips slowly curling upward smugly. She hums as she takes in his dilated pupils now wielding more than just rage. Slowly, her calloused hand begins to dip into her apron pocket. In a flash, his palm snatches her wrist and rips it out of reach. She blinks, slightly disoriented, but then raises her brows comically. “Do you not wish me to return your sword, my lord?” She lilts, Daemon’s face softens. “I am your prince, not your lord.” He snarls. Again, her sickening chuckles lift in the stale air. “You are an ingrate that we are all in service to, my prince. Do you wish for your dagger or not?” He hesitates. Who is to determine that she is not attempting to fool him? That she will not snipe his weapon and slice it through his throat; would she leave him bleeding on her floor or scatter him amongst the mongrels of flea bottom? Daemon casts his eyes at her apron. She sighs, allowing his thick fingers to swipe through the various utensils stashed away. The prince grunts when he makes contact with a blade, groaning behind his taut lips. He slides it out once he finds the hilt and dances it between his fingers like a peacock presents its feathers. A smirk twitches. 

The peasant girl sighs, unamused as he watches the shining steel. “Do you intend to frolic through the streets and freeze?” She asks with a thin layer of mocking. His eyes narrow on the blade. “No,” He articulates in a frozen phrase. “You will lead me to the garments you have stolen from me and in return I shall allow your pitiful life to remain.” It isn’t a chuckle that escapes her this time but instead a snort. His nose wrinkles at the unabashed noise. “Will I?” She returns, biting the inside of her cheek. Daemon lets a glower settle, breath heaving at the disrespect. He clenches his jaw. “You will or you will taste your own blood.” Daemon spouts the words, attempting to poison her flesh, he can already imagine the boils that would litter her soft skin. The peasant merely winks. “It wouldn’t be for the first time but I am afraid that it would be in your best interests that you stay a moment more.” She sighs as though the fact physically pains her. A hand sneaks behind her back, which connects against the rough counter edge, and produces a small wooden bowl, heat emitting in steam from the top. “Would you not prefer to break your fast before you leave? A weak prince is not a wise one.” 

He leans down, sneering. “I am not weak.” She leans up at him and tilts her head. “Then how do you know I was talking about you?” She pushes the strange broth to his chest and slips past him once his confusion lessens his hold on her other wrist. His head snaps to face her figure again. “You are an insinuating little tart.” Daemon comments but much less interrogative than before. He eyes the broth cautiously as he takes a seat at her short stocky table. His legs plead for freedom under the trapment. He ignores them. The girl glances him over and he can feel the scrutiny piercing his skin, ready to seep inside. Begrudgingly, the heir seats himself at the small table of her home and huffs like a petulant child.  The threat of judgement crawls like an insect over his tense muscles, it feels like twenty-thousand little cockroaches are bumping one another from the inside of his skin. It begs to clamber into the strange peasant instead, what does a peasant fair against a prince? She must know that it would be further than a sin to place judgement on a Targaryen prince while she is nothing more than a lowly film of dirt atop his shoe; filth he is desperately trying to scrape off until his hands are raw and bloody. 

His eyes take this moment to rake over and through her as she stumbles around the much too small hobble. Her hair reminds him of toiled waves, crashing messily and unkempt–even though it is tied up–against the harsh wind sneaking through her window. Her apron is dirtied and there is flour on her face. She looks every inch the commoner he despises. Because she thinks she’s better than him, he’s sure, he can see it in her smugness, her eagerness to keep him dependent on her already. She has a vile brown dress beneath it, his skin itches just looking at the rough worn-in cloth. The prince’s eyes trail to her bare feet, he winces but attempts to ignore it, glancing over the muddy wet end to the dress. He lets a sigh release and shakes his head, inspecting the rest of the abode. Just looking at her made him long to cleanse himself. Daemon’s nose turns up at the sight of a myriad of blue wilting flowers in the corner, well he supposes to her it is reminiscent of a myriad. Her. Why is it her mind, her thoughts, that he wants to explore like the depths of the great sea he has always been kept from? Then his eye catches on the deep red cloth that drapes along a lone wooden chair. His eyes narrow. Is it stolen? She doesn’t look as though she could afford such vibrancy. Or perhaps she is a whore and it was gifted by a client. That must be it. She’s a whore. Daemon clicks his tongue and looks down at the half-eaten broth. He stirs at the odd liquid, raising the too large spoon and pouring the broth back in the bowl before dipping it back in again. It takes all his willpower to stuff it into his cheeks and let it play on his tongue. 

He swishes it across his taste buds. Daemon wants it to be foul, he wants it to reek of vomit-inducing grossness. It is a childish word but he is running out of insults. His hope also falls flat because for some reason it tastes good. It tastes better than any soup the high paid cooks have ever offered him, it tastes almost better than any rich meal he’s consumed. His eyes narrow. Is she a witch? Is this set to bewitch him or send him into sleep? No, it makes him feel much too energised. Then is it to gain his favour? Constituted to trick his submission? She will not achieve it, he refuses. He finishes the lukewarm meal while taking his time. He watches her hum and shimmy about the room, searching for something he does not know. He scans her curiously. “My garments.” He states in demand, standing and approaching her swiftly. She doesn’t react, doesn’t even stop humming. She moves about a few thick books, all handwritten and all with olden pages–yellow with use. 

His fist rests sideways against the presumably oak bookcase so he can lean over her, forearm following suit. He wants it to reflect dominance but instead it twists his gut and warms his lower stomach. “You have something that belongs to me,” Daemon purrs. His eyes narrow. His free palm outstretches. “I want it back.” “I have more than one thing, milord.” The snark drips from her tongue with charisma he loathes. His jaw clenches at the forced display. “Then return them and I shall return this.” Her eyes snap up to him and frown at the sealed letter in his grasp. Daemon can see as the panic swells and tenses her muscles, he can see as she takes in an inhale sharper than Dark Sister, he can see as her eyes widen because Daemon is not merely a swordsman and soon-warrior; Daemon Targaryen is also an observer. The peasant girl swallows. “Very well.” She chokes out and he finds himself surprised to have won this game of cat and mouse. Of dragon and sheep. Almost disappointed. The prince nods and steps back but as she prepares to swipe it from his hands and pulls it back with a visibly pensive expression. “I will give it to you once you return my possessions.” Eyes meet and again, his gut twists. She tilts her head, guard seemingly lowered. “How curious,” She breathes out. Daemon’s brows knit. “What?” He questions. “You said possessions not belongings. Most would use the latter.” 

When he eventually does return to the castle, fully clothed and prepared to sleep off the remainder of his disturbed night, He keeps a firm stance and intends to forget the strange day so far but his mind circles the events like a fly. Daemon growls as he shrugs off his shirt to replace it with one of pure white and tosses the prior into a drawer. He roughly grasps a red doublet in his hands and tugs it over. His breath comes out in grunts and curses until he is redressed. It is the same shade as the peasant girl’s cloth, of course it is. It was his favourite until today and now childishly, it feels tainted by the resurging memories of humiliation being sewn inside. His nose scrunches up, a grotesque taste rubbing against his tongue as he recalls one incident in particular. The prince, a man to be respected, can visualise as he was shoved to a thin mattress and tossed up the mix of bile and sickness from his stomach. All. Over. Her. Floorboards. Daemon winces and shakes his head, trying to shake the memory into the deepest depths of his subconscious, never to be seen again. He sighs and turns around, pausing when a slight fluttering falls as soft as a petal from his trouser. He frowns and peers down at the paper. There sits a thin parchment, not unlike the letter he had returned to the peasant girl. This one however is in cursive words much more eloquent than the past one and written in a phrasing he’s unsure of. He looks at the wax seal this time. It’s blue and the paper around it is curled. Daemon glances over the creases. Perhaps his business is not yet forgoing. 

A moon passes before he finally returns through the winding streets, trying to recall the pattern in which he returned home, backward. Daemon finds himself humming a tune to which he should not be familiar with but it is the only thing that consumes his mind as he passes through the Street of Flour. Finally, he reaches a small doorway and raps at it. No one answers to which he sighs and takes a step back, peeking through the opening of his hooded cloak at the abundance of civilians. Daemon’s eyes dart amidst the unknown area and his feet follow, investigating a series of yells and glances one last time at the door. The street is in uneven bumps and the people there are clumped together as they holler and whistle. Daemon halts his tune and uses his substantial height to attempt to see over the large mass of bodies. He can barely make out the sight of steam and two large wooden stands. The hollers burst through his ears like pellets of rain, forceful and punishing as a storm. 

Then a familiar voice is raised above the others, a mock resounding in his ears but with the playfulness and wit of a friend. His violet eyes snap up to find the woman haunting him. She’s laughing raucously, obnoxious and loud. Daemon’s lips slightly twitch at the teeth she bares. Again, his gut stirs. The heat becomes smothering but that doesn't stop him in his pursuit in finding the peasant girl who he now sees tossing around a pan filled with water and meat. From the brief glances he can snatch up, she’s almost finished while a man beside her is kneading a similar meat lined in fresh pink. Daemon pulls his lips taut, tensing as he watches the show. His little peasant seems to be enjoying herself. Witch, he thinks briefly but she doesn’t look like a witch and nor does she particularly sound like one. Are witches not supposed to be tantalising and hibernate an illusion of raw sex? Of primal appeal to tempt him? She doesn’t appear to be trying very hard. The flour is gone from her face now, he notes, but in its place lays a curved slice, colour as deep as that of Dornish wine. If she is a witch, would she not surely cover it? The hiss of her heated pan hisses throughout the street and Daemon finds himself surprised that no one has stolen from the small bag of coins in the centre. 

A cacophony of enjoyment and not one has a trail of bitterness. He watches as the girl glides a hand around her neck to push back the hair escaping its tight wrap atop her head. Only joy amongst the miserable. Perhaps that should worry him but he is too enthralled in the display. The woman’s hair is tied high again but much clearer than the moon prior–the day he last saw her. She is still wearing the same rags but this time that revolting red cloth is wrapped around her shoulders like a shaul. Not a whore either then. A whore would not be parading her squeals for free and nor would she wish to wear rags when surely many men had solicited them. So she is not a witch and not a whore and yet he finds himself stalking after her presence like an injured pup. Daemon growls at the very thought. He is a prince. How many times must he remind himself? Princes do not chase after strange peasant girls. The scolding floats through the wind when the peasant girl cheers and hurls the pan down on the wooden market stand. Her opponent groans half-heartedly, grinning like a mad man as he stretches out his arms and embraces the girl, one rough large hand resting to cup the back of her head and his other reaching to slap her back like Daemon has seen other knights behave. But this is not a knight, this is a peasant. The fact twitches his nose in distaste. But so is she. A voice whispers in his ear, he swats it away, watching as the surrounding peasants cheer. 

Daemon watches as the children let their little hands grasp the food and jump in bubbles of excitement. If he had a warmer heart, he may have found the sight sweet. But he does not, he has a mission to complete. He approaches the peasant girl with sly steps but she has already noticed him, how, he does not know. He steps behind her and opens his mouth but she beats him to it. “My prince,” She speaks with a burning smugness he doesn’t have to look at to be aware of. Against his better judgement, a sly smirk spreads across his pale lips. “You remembered.” He quips to which she hums in approval and folds her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately I did.” Daemon shifts in intrigue. He hesitates for the first sun of his existence. “I almost thought you wouldn’t bring it back.” She comments, amusement slipping in between her teeth. A snicker passes his mouth, a mouth rarely barred. “I had not imagined you would need use of such a thing left so easily misplaced.” Daemon’s hot words burrow through her ear, as determined as their wielder. She turns her head, baring her soft neck and piercing eyes to look up into his. The heir’s breath hitches. 

“I misplaced nothing, my prince.” The peasant purrs boldly. The intimacy of a whisper drips from her like an aphrodisiac. Daemon grins. “Is it my name or merely my title that you know of?” He chuckles, a confident hand reaching wind at her waist. Her own hand cups it. “Of course, my Prince Daemon Targaryen.” He swallows and a shuddered chill draws down his back. “Might you tell your prince your own for adequate compensation?” She leans a little closer, only a breath apart and fanning across his twitching lips. She interrupts his thoughts by slapping his hand enough to stun him. “I shall not.” With him vulnerable, she twists away from him with cautious grace. “I like to leave my men wanting.” She calls with a growing impish grin. He surprises himself by returning the gesture, straightening his back as he does so and raising his brows. “And I am one of your men then?” He retorts easily and watches her sashay apart from him. Before she is too far, he pats down to find the letter in his pocket but already knows it has been swiped. Instead of berating his own foolishness, he smirks at the smart, slippery girl and steps away, sure to see her more in the growing time. 

As the moons pass and his brother grows increasingly irate with him, Daemon Targaryen sneaks away into the night. He ignores the hailings of his Lady Bronze and replaces her calls with the sweet melodies his newfound companion intoxicates him with. The soothing lilt of her lullabies and the calm braids she strews across his hair. Daemon stands, now a man of 27 years, at her side. Y/n, she had told him. Her name was Y/n. She was of no surname and no wealth but she was beautiful and kind. She was fresh and witty and every inch the insinuating tart she had been the night they met. Her fingers stroke through his tangled mane with a snort before landing her hands, rough with work, on his shoulders. He leans back and flutters his eyes shut. With all the bread she has kneaded, this is not the first time he longs for her embrace. He hums in swift pleasure, reaching up to coil his fingers with hers. “How is sweet Rhaenyra?” Y/n asks, voice ripe with interest and honey as always…Only this time, there is something burrowed beneath, he can feel it. He can feel it better than he can sense Caraxes’ heartbeat. “She is well…Almost full grown already.” Daemon responds, his fingers lingering as they caress Y/n’s hand. Why does it feel so much frailer than it did before? “Are you hiding something from me? Are you aware that it is a crime to lie to your prince,” The joke falls flat as she leans forward and shakes her head, arms stretching across her lover’s chest. She doesn’t speak and he doesn’t pry but they are both aware of the deep mulberry bags beneath her eyes. 

But Daemon has always been a man of actions and impulses and so, he lets instincts take over, leaning back his head to look at her. His hands both reach up to cup her face and descend it toward him with gentle prompt. “I brought something for you,” He breathes, twirling a strand of her hair around his fingertips. She tilts her head and tightens her lips. “Whatever for?” He lets a mischievous grin twist his mouth and stands, settling Y/n down in the chair instead. Daemon cups her cold hands in his warm ones and folds them in her lap. “Close your eyes.” She does so begrudgingly but she is long past arguing with him when he’s in his moods. She chuckles. “You told you there was nothing you required for your namesday and while I respect–” She interrupts him, groaning with amusement. “Because it is not a namesday, I will never know my namesday,” She chuckles but her tickling throat gives her away, choking the words out of her dry throat. Daemon hums lowly. “But it is the day that you were given shelter.” She rolls her eyes at the quip. “That place was hardly a shelter.” He leans down to kiss wetly along her jaw and up to her earlobe. “And yet it brought you to me, kept you safe and waiting.” She snorts and raises her brows, a pointed expression inching over her. “I was hardly waiting.” He chuckles this time and kisses up the column of her throat. As she begins to breathe out gentle moans, he takes her distracted presence to skillfully thread his hand over hers, sliding cold steel onto her finger. She gasps and flutters her eyes open to see his cocky smirk. “Well?” He asks and kisses the finger. He licks his lips and lets a shaky breath flow through him. 

Y/n regains composure and stares at the ‘something’ he had brought her. She brings it to just in front of her sights and swallows. “Is-Is it…?” “Yes,” He whispers and looks at the carefully crafted jewellery too. “I want you to have a part of me, always. And in return…” He pauses and turns the ring around her finger slowly to reveal a carved dragon, its wings spread for flight. “I want all of you.” He slowly kneels in front of her. “I want you to marry me.” It’s instantaneous that her mouth parts and her eyes widen. “Daemon…” “That woman is not my wife.” He states coldly before warming at the sight of her softening brows. “You are my wife in body, in soul and I want so in law too.” He takes in a breath. “Please, do not this deny of me. “I told you I would give you everything and I intend to. “Your brother will never approve of it.” A growl ripples through his mouth. “I do not care, he has tried to be my dictator since we were children and now I am a man grown, I should be allowed to choose my own wife. To let her choose me. He has not yet had an heir, let me take you to Dragonstone.” He leans closer until only a single breath can part them. “Let me make you my wife in the ways of my ancestors.” Silence cups them in a bubble, so easily popped. Too easily popped…and yet, she turns the ring, roaming the dotted rubies that form the dragon’s eyes and in slow movement, she stares into violet irises as she kisses the dragon’s head. “Yes.” She whispers. “I will be your wife.” 

He doesn’t take a moment more to grasp the sides of her face and kiss fervently at her soft pliant lips. She returns the force in tandem as the sun sets behind them. The golden rays darken in a way only the most beautiful of moments could demand. Daemon’s hand drops to scrunch at the material at her thigh, at the skirts of her dress. It is in moments that both his hands reach to pop and tear at the incriminating fabric, ripping away her bodice until he can paw at his prize like an animal starved. Her teeth sink into his lip and the wet resounding noises surface upon their lips. His breath grunts as hers quickens in high pitched desperation. Her own hands slash roughly at his doublet, shoving it away from him like a criminal. His hips grind against her in hard strokes, desperately trailing his kisses down her neck while she clutches and pulls at his long silver hair. A high moan tears from her mouth as he sucks his marks into her, the need for possession clawing at his veins. Her pearl throbs as she twists to plunge him onto the floor. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck and pushes his face against her neck again. He growls and snaps off her smallclothes. “When we met,” He groans, eyes fluttering back. “I thought you were a whore.” A breathy cackle drips from her animalistic mouth. “I’m starting to rethink denouncing that. You are much, ah, much too talented to be a baker.” He moans and burrows his head into the pillows of her breasts, lips wrapping to suction once more, to claim. “And you,” She interrupts herself to moan, tossing her head back. “Are much too unkempt to be a prince.” He bucks his hips. “Tell me,” A shriek breaks as he tugs roughly at the pelvis of his own trousers, desperately trying to be rid of the material. “Tell me you’re mine, Rogue Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.” A gasp drips from his tongue while he finally gets a grip of his fabrics. He tosses her to lie on the floor, her back pressed against the wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” He babbles like a hormonal desperate teenager. With thick hands grapple his own trousers and tears them off with haste. “All yours, only yours.” 

He throbs as he kisses down her body, planting wet marks as violet as his eyes and crimson as his blood. He props up her right leg to drape over his shoulder and sucks at her thigh. His tongue probes at the flesh. His palms squeeze at her thighs as he slowly dips down between them and worships her mound in deep licks, drinking in the slick. He wants to drain it into a flask and carry it in his satchel. He wants to carry her around to sip from at any moment. He could die happily between her legs. Daemon Targaryen does not need wine or whore because she is his sin and he will anger the Gods happily if he can keep this temptress at his side. He pulls back to fan his breath along her throbbing cunny. Such a sweet filthy little thing, he thinks to himself, blowing down on it and revelling in her small jolt. His tongue drops to play with the bundled pearl, rolling it over the muscle and sending vibration as reward for every little moan that she lets pass. Her hands reach down and tug at his hair. “You should not have tempted me, adere riñus,” (slippery girl) His dark eyes level to meet hers. “I told you I want all of you and I intend to take it.” With an animalistic grin, his mouth descends once more to lap at her. Her back arches, grinding into him impatiently. “Be careful,” The woman pants. “Or I may start suspecting you to be a whore yourself.” He growls as she smirks and pushes up her body, slamming a forearm by her head and stretching her leg. She winces for a moment but recovers as his fingers replace his tongue. “A private whore then.” He speaks, removing his hand from her bud to palm at his length. “For a have already told you,” He grunts, chasing her mewls as he plunges into her entrance. “I am yours.” And so he pushes deeper, pushing roughly and lets his sweat pound into her flesh until they absorb one another. 

Months have passed. He knows they have but he doesn’t feel it. All he can do is fight and slay and watch as men burn and bleed. So long it has been since he last saw his true wife, since he last kissed her lips. A comment in passing has devoured his entire mind. A half-hearted promise that he has clung to now is visible but only in part. He wants it now more than he has ever wanted anything. “Yes, well, you may marry her if the Stepstones are ever retaken.” A King will be true to his word and his brother has never proved untrustworthy but the phrase was meant in jest, he knows. However, Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince and man of twenty-eight years, will let himself be damned before he rejects the prospect. He will make his wifey his own if it is the very last thing he does. He has returned to his brother, a crown of bone within his grasp and presented it to him with but one request. He shall take his own wife and he shall take her at court for all to see. Before every lord, lady or royal proudly. For the first time, it isn’t frustration or malice in his brother’s gaze in response to his boldness. It is gentle and merciful. Because that is what it feels like to be gifted the honour of his adere riñus. It is mercy, it is a blessing, it is his salvation. It is the rise of his sun and the fall of his stars because he only needs one. He only needs one shining star to keep his moon afloat and begging. 

Finally he can return home to her with more than a title and unfair vows. He can return with a heart full. Daemon’s hand twists at the wooden door he has slipped past so many times before but he freezes at the sight. An array of mess greets him and horror balls in his throat to gag him. His eyes snap at every corner, panic rising like the flow of sharp wind. His feet travel through the cluttered space, wariness biting at him but then he sees blood splatter on a cloth. It is as crimson as the shirt beneath his tunic and that alone makes him scream for her. Her name resounds through the open space and his legs run swiftly to the only other room there, the one where he had professed his devotion to her until the words bled out. He bursts the door open with the force of ten thousand men, the hinges yelling at him. He settles his sights on his weak love. She is shivering. With widened eyes and swiftly snaps to her side in one breath and kneels there, clutching her hands. “What is wrong, my love, who has hurt you?” The words are loud, demanding and cold. She almost doesn't respond and his heart stops. “I am well, husband.” She calls him such…She calls him such without even knowing the good news, the news he had only dreamed of whispering into your ear but not like this. Never like this. “My love, you are not.” Daemon chastises and fumbles with her bedsheets. He reaches to cup her cheek. “My love what has happened, has someone thieved you, please tell me what has happened.” She merely shakes her head. “I,” She coughs into her hand, rich thick blood dripping from it like a cursed potion. His face hardens but he lets her finish, lets the quiet remain. She’s trembling like a little lamb. “You knew that I was in an…unseemly state when you left. I am glad to have you return to me.” She has never spoken so proper, so rehearsed to him before. How long had he been blind? “I am taking you to a healer.” He snaps instantly and stands. She winces. “No,” She begs weakly. He shakes his head. “No, please, I do not wish for you to see me in this state.” “Shame is not for this time!” He yells. “I return home to my wife sickly and bedridden and you expect me to not alert a maester? Nonsense, you are coming willfully or I will make you.” 

The nights are cold and they pass without progress as he lays by her side at all hours. Her eyes stare up at the ceiling. “It is in the sky that you are free,” She utters. “Caraxes will be missing you.” Daemon shakes his head and glides a hand up her waist. “And if I should fly him then I shall be missing you.” “He is an animal as wild as you, my love,” She berates with the softness of an angel. “And he will wait.” “And for how long? Until I am old in my grave.” “Do not say such things!” Daemon chastises. “It is mere truth, husband.” She sighs and curls his hair in her fingers. “He needs flight and so do you.” He doesn’t respond, his petulance growing.”I am not getting better.” She wags a finger in his face when he tries to argue. “I will continue not to but if you do this justice for me then I will grant you an army of love.” The mischief still holds on her tongue after all this time. The gentle mocking of his salvation and he smiles. He smiles as water pricks his eyes. He can’t speak. He won’t make it so, not if it is only going to claw at him. 

Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches as the ivory moon lowers before him. He watches as gold forgives the darkness and they embrace. The twine of beauty and misery thread together in a beautiful seal. A seal of love and beauty. He twists a ring in his hand, one made of Valyrian steel and shattered promises. He sits upon a red cloth. Parchment is strapped to his thigh, awaiting acknowledgement, a web of bluebells encapsulates it. A letter of hopes, a letter of dreams unfulfilled. Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches the sun rise and with it, his future. He has felt his slippery girl slip from him and now it is time for him to breathe new air. He is only left with the remnants of her but that is enough for him to resume his newfound duty. A duty to her, to her memory and to her desires. As he watches the night close, he finally takes acceptance. He accepts peace. Her love is not red, it is not blue. It is in what she has left behind and it is in what she has gifted onto him. Finally he understands what she meant that fated day. She does not own him. He belongs to her.

Her love is her remnants. And he has an army of it. 

Remnants Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @chompchompluke @eyelinerandcigarettes

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter

[inklore]

now i haven’t seen the show so idk nothing about daemon but i do know that he is HOT and i do know that i would love to have his hand around my throat🥰 idk i think he’d like it too xx

pairing: daemon targaryen x princess!reader warnings: choking kink, insinuations of dry humping/thigh riding. etc: i’d let this man put me in my grave and smile while he covered me with dirt and i have no shame about it!!!

The smile that spreads across your lips is a threat to the man above you. A threat of what is still being put to debate in his head; the surprise evident on his features when he wrapped his fist around your neck—a show of repercussion of a teasing game you should not have been playing—pushing your backside to the cold concrete of the corridor.

You smiled.

Men and women fell to their knees before him, sacrificed the ones they loved, bedded, barely knew to save themselves from his wrath—his blade.

And you had smiled at the threat.

Princess' coward, begged for mercy, pleaded, questioned 'why them' and 'please spare me's'.

They did not wear sinful smiles upon feeling a tight grip encase the column of their neck. A sneer spoken just before that, a warning that had done the opposite of its intention. Their mouths did not hang open on a whimper when that grip tightened, having full knowledge that the man in front of them could drain the life from their corpse in a matter of minutes.

They didn't get off to the idea, to that power.

But maybe that is why Daemon liked you so. Maybe that's why his interests had peaked when he first lay eyes on you—even after you had gotten on his nerves with your games.

When your father all but offered you up on a silver platter for wolves to feast at; himself being the biggest and baddest of them all. He had saw something in you. Something unobtainable, traits in a lady that should anyone find out were there would have her hanging from a tree.

His wrist making the perfect noose.

To hang you from that dark tree of temptation. To let the unobtainable be contained by his own doing. His own hands.

"Does it feel good?" Daemon asks. Brings his lips hovering above yours as his fingers dig into your neck, that whimper finally releasing itself from your lungs.

The nod you give him is all it takes to chisel away what's left of the resilience he had been holding on to to behave. To not take a bite of the tempting fruit that you were.

He's in enough trouble.

But when has he ever denied himself something as delicious as this? Especially when it looked as devouring as you did playing innocence for all to see but devilishly guilty when only his eyes were looking.

Something that felt this inviting and heavy on the hardness of his cock the more it grew with the desire to lay you out below him, and peel back every dark layer you may have, every seed that might match his; was not something you kept yourself from.

He was never a man of self control to start with anyway.

Daemon pushes his knee between your legs, his free hand pulling your skirts up enough to have the heat of your cunt pressing at his clothed thigh. "By all means then Princess, take what you need." He smirks down at you, running his thigh along your heat.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

Early evening (smut)

It was a request, hoping you’d like it.

Pairing: Daemon x chubby female reader

 Abstract : just a little smut between a chubby reader and Daemon when he visit at night

Warnings: oral sex (female recipient), penetration (fingers only)

Disclaimer: this is the first time I write a smut so it may seem short. Oh and English is not my mother tongue.

Only the light of the full moon lit up the room. You were dressed only in a simple nightgown, looking out the window at the city of King’s Landing, some areas were visible by the candlelight emanating.

Your contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a large stone being moved. You were quietly moving towards the noise when you saw Daemon coming out of a passage emanating from the wall. Surprise, you watched him close the last passage. It wasn’t the first time he visited you during the evening, but the first time he used secret red keep passages.

"What is it?" You watched it move in your direction.

He wouldn’t answer you, putting his hands against your cheeks and kissing you with a mixture of passion and frustration. You answered his kiss, getting closer to him, placing one hand in his hair, and the second against his back. He gently bit your lower lip, you opened your lips, amplified the kiss, you felt one of his hands slip on your buttocks, grasping with a handle one delle.

You opened your eyes when Daemon interrupted the kiss. You could see in his eyes, an intermingling of desire and frustration, he put his right hand on your hip, caressing it through the fine fabric of your night dress. You pulled back the head slightly, smiling softly, you moved your hands to place them on his chest starting to detach his top, Daemon began to kiss you again, first on the mouth, then the cheek continuing to deposit kisses up to your neck, a heat emanated from your body, your breath was cut when you felt his lips against your throat, he sucked certain parts, leaving future marks, he sucked a certain part more strongly, you clung to his hair and back, leaving a sweet moan between your lips.

He would only stop to finish getting rid of his top, his breath was running, his gaze inflamed, he took your round body against him, moving you a few pats towards the bed.

He sat down on the bed, the bump in his pants was visible, he took off his shoes, sending them flying across the room.

You untied your nightgown letting it fall on the ground, the fabric forming waves around your feet, it left the field open for Daemon’s gaze on your naked body, his gaze detailed you, leaving his gaze lingering on your breasts slowly descending towards your crotch, His lustful look began to make you wet, Daemon let a rumble pass when he noticed the glow on the inside of your chubby thighs.

You walked up to him wanting to open his pants, but he grabbed your hands, forcing you to move on the bed, once properly seated, he knelt down on the bed, slowly rising towards your face, leaving kisses first on your ankles and then on your knees, they then went towards your thighs, continuing their way lingering on your belly, to place two more kisses on your breasts, one in your neck and finally on your mouth, Daemon stood above you, caressing your arms, moving his hands towards your thighs grabbing them, you moan gently, opening your legs, letting Daemon watch you.

«  Iksā gevie »

He kissed on your lap, and formed a kissing path on your thighs. Kneeling between your thighs, you watched him eagerly, feeling your blood boiling in your veins, the closer his kisses got to your pussy, the more sweet moans came out of your mouth, Daemon loved to make you languish, to see you move your hips towards his face, Holding the sheets in your hands, he wanted one thing, for you to beg. You the only person he would destroy Westeros for. He wanted everyone to know that you were his and his alone.

He would linger in the hollow of your thighs, leaving hickeys on your thighs, raising a hand slowly towards your breasts, caressing them, placing his index finger against the halo of the nearest breast, grazing your nipple.

« Daemon... Please … »

“Please what my dear ?” He was Smirking

« Please... Touche me...” Your mind was mired in all the desire and pleasure it could generate without even touching your pussy or more rough on you.

“Be more specific, my love” Oh he liked to play with you.

“My... My pussy, please... Lick me, eat me... touch me... “ Your voice was just a murmur mixed with your moans.

“Louder, I didn’t hear you.”

“Eat me Daemon!” This time your voice was clearer, the guard at your door had no doubt heard, but you didn’t care at the time.

Daemon smiled with envy, he laid one last kiss in the hollow of your thigh, he drew his face closer to your pussy, you felt his moaning breath, you couldn’t wait any longer.

You moaned more strongly when you finally felt Daemon’s lips against the lips of your pussy, he started gently, licking them, you put one hand against his head, spreading your legs a little wider, your other hand grabbing your pillow.

He would lick your pussy in, then he would go up to your clitoris, kiss, gently lick his contour, he would suck your clitoris at the same time as he would enter a finger and then two into your pussy, he could feel how wet you were, how the walls of your vagina began to convulse around his fingers.

“D... Daemon...!” You were moaning more and more, grabbing her silver hair.

'Let go. Go ahead, come for me.'

All of a sudden, the only thing you could see was stars. You weren’t thinking about anything anymore, whether it was Daemon looking at you admiring you while bringing you to the end of your orgasm or the fact that it was just a start, or whoever could hear you.

At the end of your orgasm you looked at Daemon who had just come up to your face, you exchanged a kiss, you could feel the fragrance emanating from your enjoyment, but it was nothing.

« Rest, ñuha jorrāelagon. It’s going to be a long night. »

Translation :

-          iksā gevie « You are beautiful » in high Valyiran

-           “ my love” ñuha jorrāelagon

[lis-likes-fics]

The Dragon's Hoard

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x wife!Reader Word Count: 2.7 words Warnings: NSFW, smut, masochism/sadism, choking, hairpulling, oral (m and f!receiving), biting, scratching, marking, claiming, knife play, overstim, Daemon sort of ignores her when she says stop, brief aftercare, all of this is consensual... A/N: This was an ask I got like...months ago. I finally found the time to write it and I'm satisfied with how it turned out. This is on the shorter side of my works but I think it's good. Thank you and happy reading!

Daemon slams you into the wall with the brute force of his desperation. It knocks the breath from your lungs and leaves you gasping into his kiss.

Still, you seek him out, hungry for the feeling of his biting teeth in your lower lip as you claw at his arms and at his back. Daemon's hand wraps around the column of your throat, and with too much strength, he pushes you back against the wall with a heavy thump. His eyes examine you, face fallen into cold indifference as he watches you with swollen, bitten lips.

He says nothing, inclining his head to watch you down his nose. Slowly he leans forward, and you go to meet him in the middle, your movements like a yapping, nipping creature as he continues to pull away. His hand tightens when his lips and teeth mash with yours, bruising and cutting.

He shoves you down onto your knees, bracing one hand against the wall as the other tangles in your hair so tight, you feel he may pull it out. You take his demand for what it is as you undo his trousers, tugging and pulling until you've rid him of the burden. You're hungry for him as you take him into your mouth, laving your tongue against the heat of his cock.

Suckling around the tip, you close your eyes and moan at the sting in your scalp and the salty taste on your tongue. He doesn't give you too much time to relish, however, before he's bracing himself against the wall and tightening his grip in your hair. He holds you still as he shoves his cock into your mouth, down the tight squeeze of your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, and you gasp uselessly around his cock as he fucks into your throat with a fervency you have to catch up with.

He curses under his breath at the way you continue to suck. “That's it,” he huffs, looking down at you with dark eyes. “Just a cock hungry whore wanting me to fuck her stupid.”

Your moan comes out as a gag in between thrusts of his cock and only elevates his pleasure. Pressing himself down all the way, just one last time, he lingers there before he pulls out. You gasp for air as he catches his breath, grasping your arm roughly and forcing you to your feet. He takes your jaw in his harsh grasp and pulls you in for another kiss, biting your lip so hard that you taste the blood on your tongue when he pulls away.

You lick it, smiling drunkenly at him. “I’m not sure you’ve marked me quite well enough, my prince. You should try again, just to be sure.”

He’s amused by your antics but so lust-driven that he doesn’t return your suggestion with any words. He shoves you away so you stumble toward the table, bracing your hands on it. He comes up behind you and turns you around to face him, bending you back until you’re laying upon it.

He leans down, nuzzling his face in your neck and inhaling your scent. With a dark hum, he bares his teeth and begins licking and sucking and biting at the skin of your neck. You whimper as he paints bruises into your skin, marking you up so deeply, he may as well be carving his name into your flesh. His possessive hands tug at your clothes until he’s actually ripping your nightgown from your body, letting them fall in rags to the floor. His dull names dig into your skin, and you love the sharp sting of his claws.

When he eases up, it’s only to trail his bruising kisses down your chest, your belly, to the heat of your cunt. He doesn’t waste time in teasing you. He laps at the seam of your pussy and sucks around you as you let out a gasp. His fingers sink into your dripping cunt, wringing your pleasure from your body as he continues to use his skilled tongue to taste you. Sitting up, his hands thrust in and out of you with a speed and a strength that makes you dizzy as you moan his name for the whole castle to hear. And when he’s done with that, his fingers retreat from you and he grips the underside of your thighs, all the lift them up and fold you in half so he can continue to taste the sweet nectar of your cunt.

Daemon is merciless in the ways of pleasure, just as he is in the ways of pain. His nails claw and his teeth bite and he makes you cum over and over and over again on his tongue and on his fingers until you’re dizzy and sobbing. Your sensitive clit between his lips has you choking when his teeth threaten to bite down on it. There’s a point he’s sure he’s heard you say, “Please, Daemon,” in between sobs, “I can’t. Fuck, stop.” (Or maybe you were saying “I can’t fucking stop.” Either way, he cares little.)

But he knows better. He makes you cum twice more before he even considers pulling away. He’s content to spend forever making you shake.

He likes you like this. He likes watching you cry, watching you writhe in his grasp, watching you fall apart in his hands until you’re nothing but the little whore he knows you to be under your regality and poise. It doesn’t matter how powerful you are, you’re always his weak little creature when he has you in his grip.

When he’s satisfied with your trembling, he stands to his full height once more and lets your legs down. He turns you over on your stomach and watches your legs twitch. You cry out when his palm strikes the cheek of your ass, the harsh impact making you sting and ache where he’d hit you. His fingers tangle in your hair once more, and he pulls you back as he bends over your body and leans into your ear. You moan at the heat mixing all over your body, the pain and the pleasure and the desire mixing into a beautiful cocktail.

“Look at yourself,” he purrs. “You cry like a baby, pretty girl.” His hand spanks you again, just as harshly—if not worse—than the first time. You whine, your legs shaking even more. “Do you want me to fuck this little cunt of yours?”

You nod, catching your breath as you grip the edge of the table. His arm snakes around you so his hand settles on the column of your throat. He squeezes, and he can hear your breath straining around his grasp. Your eyes flutter, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Use your words.”

Your lips part and, around the tightness of your throat, you speak. “Yes, my prince.”

The smallest grin curls his lips devilishly. “Such a good girl,” he hums. “But if you want me so badly, you’ll have to do one thing for me.”

Your breath picks up just a bit. “Anything.”

A flash of silver catches your eye as he pulls a blade from off the table. He presses it to your cheek, the metal cold against the heat in your face. “Hold still,” he murmurs, kissing your neck before letting the blade ease down your body as the anticipation and anxiety mixes in your belly. He pulls away from you, turning you on your back. He looks into your eyes, his gaze intense and penetrating. His voice is taunting but his words are careful.

“Promise me you'll hold still,” he mumbles.

You nod, trusting a man who isn't trustworthy. “I promise.” Your eyes are glazed and your words are sticky, but your promise is true.

Daemon wastes no more time being sentimental. He secures his blade and holds your side. You bare your teeth when he presses the sharp blade into the flesh just under your breast, just deep enough to scar. You squeeze your eyes shut and flex your muscles, whimpering meekly as you strain to keep still. It hurts but the searing pain has the twisting in your gut curling even more. You're as hot and as wet as the blood pooling in your wounds.

You feel like you've been there forever, bearing the pain for him because he'll reward you ten times over. And when he's done, his lips grin mischievously at the injuries he'll ensure scar. “Now you'll never forget who you belong to.”

At the bottom of your torso, small letters spelling DAEMON’S are carved into the skin above your ribs. He smiles, his hand squeezing your thigh, his cock twitching. He bends down kissing you roughly, his teeth taking your bottom lip and letting it go to let it slap back against your teeth.

“I love you, Daemon,” you gasp shallowly, dizzy and in need.

He doesn't answer you as his blade clatters to the floor. You're too dazed to notice his non-response. You groan when he lifts your legs over his shoulders, hooking them there by your ankles.

“Now shall I fuck you until you beg me to cum,” he breathes, “or until you beg me to stop?”

You whimper, your hands searching him out. He takes them, gathering them in one of his as he presses them against your chest so you can move them. “Until you beg me to stop, then.”

He thrusts his cock inside of you, fucking you in long, rough strokes. He presses in so deep, slamming the blunt head of his cock against the deepest parts of you and pulling back to do it all over again. Tears slip down the sides of your face, and you can’t help the moans that tear from your throat. You chant his name, begging him for more, more, more.

His hips slap into you ruthlessly. You clench around him, urging him to go harder still. It doesn’t hurt enough. You wanted to go blind with pleasure, to gasp for the breath he robbed from your lungs. He lets go of your hand to squeeze your breast, groping you roughly as he flicks your nipple with his thumb, circling it around and pinching it between his fingers.

His breath is heavy as it passes in and out of his throat, a rough dragging of air through his lungs. Groans fall from his lips, possessive grunts that fill your ears and cloud your mind with lust. With the pad of his thumb, he rubs mercilessly at your aching clit. You tighten around him as he circles the sensitive bud.

“That’s a good girl,” he hums, baring his teeth as he continues to fuck into you. You moan for him, letting him bear witness to all your sounds, all the ways he’s making you feel so good.

And when you cum, you cry his name as he fucks you through it. But he doesn’t stop. No, he promised he wouldn’t stop until you were begging him to. He promised he wouldn’t stop until you were a sobbing mess underneath him, shaking with exhaustion. You don’t think he would stop even then, addicted to the sight of you broken down to the pathetic whore he likes to reduce you to. He loves watching your dignity melt away into nothing but a twisting pile of debauchery before him.

He never lets up. Not when you cum on his cock the second time, or the third, or by the time the both of you have lost count, your heads clouded by a raging lust. And you do beg. When you’re sure your body can’t take anymore, when you’re sure your tired and aching limbs have had enough, you beg him—if not to stop—then to slow down so you can at least try to catch up with him.

But he doesn’t.

He wraps a hand around your throat and he squeezes and he tells you how beautiful you look when you cry. He uses your body to his own will, chasing his high now that you’ve finally reached that breaking point he so loves.

The truth is, Daemon does—in some ways—have love in his heart for you. But, by the gods, to see you tremble like prey beneath him trumps any kind of adoration or respect he holds for you. It unlocks something in him that has him squeezing his hand around your throat, watching you claw, the both of you unsure of whether you’re fighting to loosen his grip or to grasp tighter. He loves watching you fall apart.

“D-Daemon,” you strain, hazy and faded from your lust-driven thoughts. “Please, I can’t. No more, please.”

But he knows you. You can try to beg, but he knows what you want. And he gladly delivers. With a new strength, he takes a breath as he braces both hands at your body and fucks into you in search of his own release. Your eyes flutter and you choke on your own moans. It’s so much, all of it at once. You try to breathe, but all you do is gasp and sigh. His name stutters on your tongue and all you can do is gasp and sigh.

Knowing he’s close, you gather all the sense in your mind to tip him over the edge. And, because he has love for you, it works. “F-Fuck, Daemon. Breed me.”

He spills inside of you with a harsh grunt, slamming his hips into you as deep as they’ll go and then grinding some more to ensure none of his release can escape your womb. You moan, closing your eyes and bringing his hand back to your throat just to feel that tingling feeling once more. Daemon’s muscles flex and strain through his skin, and his teeth clamp shut as he tries to compose himself once more.

When he straightens his spine, he looks at you down his nose. His hair is a mess in his face, his eyes are down and lust-blown, his chest heaves with gasping breaths. He lets your legs down and steps away from you, his naked body retreating from you as you lay limply on the table. You’re so fazed, all you can do is lie there and await his return.

You don’t know how much time passes between him leaving and returning. When he does return, he has a newfound gentleness that warms you. He cleans the both of you up as best he cares to, taking extra care to push whatever has escaped the seam of your cunt back inside of you—who was he to deny your wish?

You wince when he sprinkles salt in your wound, waiting a moment before he cleans that up too. And once you’re properly cared for, he stretches his exerted muscles briefly.

You would have hoped he would carry you a little more carefully, but you don’t necessarily mind the way he slings you over his shoulder because he sets you down gently onto the bed and fixes your covers. He joins you a moment later, just soft enough from his exhaustion to wrap his arms around your body and hold you to him.

Daemon is not an affectionate man. You know where his heart and desires lie, you’ve been fully aware since the day you were married. But you are his wife, and you’ve been together with your special arrangements and agreements for too long for him not to feel for you. It doesn’t matter to you if he never says that he loves you—you’ve come to peace with the fact that he may never truly love you, at least not more than the love his heart has already set for himself—you will always relish in the moments where you get to hold this gentle thing of your husband in your arms for as long as he is him.

Your husband rests his head in your chests and wraps his arms around your sides, noticeably careful where he’s carved his name into your claimed flesh, and you hold him until he separates sometime in the early hours of the morning, happy to call him yours.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

[badgirl411]

Masterlist

Eddie Munson

Summary: They say soulmates exist when you meet yours you never expect you two would end up the way you did. In a world where you can feel everything the other person can turns out isnt such a great thing.

- Empty

The Corinthian (Sandman)

Summary: (Y/N) has been the same recurring dream of a mysterious man in a crowded bar and it always ends the same until it doesnt. One day going about her daily routine of going to work she encounters the mystery man. Strange things star happening, feeling things from her dreams in the waking world and seeing people who shouldnt exist. This story explores that relationship. WARNING CONTAINS SMUT IN SEVERAL CHAPTERS AND DD/LG THEMES THROUGHOUT.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three  (18+)

Part Four (18+)

Part Five

Part Six (18+)

Daemon Targaryen

- Two Halves of the Same Coin

Summary: (Y/N) and Daemon were destined to be intertwined for a long time. Call it what you will fate or coincidence but some might say they were two halves of the same coin. This story explores their relationship and what happens when Daemon goes to war without warning one day. WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND EVENTUAL SMUT.

Part One 

Aemond  Targaryen

-The Enemy

Summary: Aemond and (Y/N)  were inseparable from an early age but when the Greens and the Blacks begin to move their chess pieces and relationships begin to be tested they are torn apart forced to choose sides in a war. Lovers become enemies until Aemond holds (Y/N) captive after her family visits the capital determined to win her back. But things turn upside down when (Y/N) loses her brother but her determination to avenge her brother might just break her own heart in the process.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three (18+)

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six (18+)

Part Seven (18+)

Part Eight (18+)

-Intoxicating (Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader AU)

Summary: An AU about Modern!Aemond x Reader, Aemond is a tattoo artist owning a studio with his siblings. (Y/N) is Aegon and Helaena’s best friend and also happens to be Aemond’s ex. (Y/N) is meant to be getting tattooed by Helaena until she suddenly takes ill and ends up being stuck with her possessive ex boyfriend.

Part One

Nikolai Lantsov 

A Work Of Art

Summary:  Pyotr Lantsov is the CEO of the world famous Lantsov Art and Antiquities and founder of the Esthetica Gallery in New York, after he dies (Y/N) finds themself the new owner of the gallery she has helped be a success. Meanwhile world renowned and ellusive art thief Sturnhond and his crew hit the biggest galleries across the globe stealing back precious art. At a charity gala announcing (Y/N)'s success what happens when Sturmhond threatens to make an appearance and a familiar face haunts (Y/N).

Part One

Part Two 

Part Three 

Part Four 

Part Five 

[i-am-so-riddikulus]

His Lady Wife

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary: part two to A Nightly Stroll, readers wedding night with daemon, and the reaction of all who find out

A/N: Wow! I was not expecting so much love on my last post! Thank you all so much! I wrote this as fast as I could for you all, so I apologize if it’s not as good. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: angst, smut, vaginal, unprotected sex, fingering, breeding kink, sorry if i missed anything

There became a moment when Rhaenyra started to notice something. She had always been close with her uncle, and when he was around less and less, she knew something was amidst. At first she thought he might be focusing on himself. After all, he was just back from the war at the Stepstones which took a little over three years to end. But with each conversation, each glance, each touch, she had figured out her mystery. All she needed now was to talk to you alone.

She chose to do so when you were in your chambers for the night, cuddled up with a book that Daemon had gifted you. A knock rapped against your door, “Come in,” you said, fixing your nightgown. 

Rhaenyra walked in, still in her dress from earlier in the day. You quickly walked over to her, “Good evening, my Princess, what may you need at this hour?”

She smiled, pulling you into a quick hug, “Oh Y/N, you know you do not need to be so formal around me, it’s just the two of us, and you are my best friend.”

“Forgive me, it’s a habit Rhaenyra,” you apologized.

“No need to apologize either,” she laughed.

She walked around your room, looking at all the books that you had laid about. She picked up one, examining the cover, “I believe that I can trust you with anything, Y/N,” flipping through the pages, “and tonight I want us to be totally honest with each other,” she finally stopped at the last page, where Daemon had left a note for you. She looked at you with knowing eyes. 

She started to walk towards you, “I myself have done something that I wish to tell you,” she paused, smiling sweetly, “I have taken Ser Criston Cole to bed.”

You couldn’t contain your giggling, knowing that Rhaenyra had found the knight most attractive for sometime now. You grabbed her hands, dying to know more, “Gods, how did it happen!”

She laughed, pulling your hands, “First I need you to tell me something that you did.”

Your heart started pounding, feeling your hands start to grow sweaty. You thought no one knew, not a single word about the night had been spoken by anyone. How did Rhaenyra know?

Did Daemon tell her? You knew they were close. “I,” you cleared your throat, “Well, recently I have had relations with the Prince,” you closed your eyes, expecting anger from Rhaenyra, but instead she was smiling.

“I knew it! First I noticed Daemon partaking in much more conversation with you, and then I saw all of the signs,” she seemed very proud of herself. 

You were very confused, “What signs are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh you know, the glances, the touches. I’m surprised your own father had not noticed,” She picked up the book once again, “Not to mention this book from his own collection with a note to you.” she smirked, “So tell me dear friend, how did you woo my uncle?”

You laughed softly, “I wouldn’t say that I wooed him, it was definitely him doing the wooing.” It comforted you knowing that Rhaenyra wasn’t upset, she even seemed excited.

—

While you were having your talk with Rhaenyra, your father had finally noticed you. Unknown to you or Daemon, he had spies in the pleasure house. Otto had wanted to be rid of Daemon for years, dispersing spies all over King’s Landing to catch him in whatever chaos he chose to start. Otto Hightower prided himself in knowing just about everything that went on with his daughters. Alicent, she was married to the King and she bore him an heir. Y/N, she was his second born and all she did was read around the keep. He knew she didn’t do anything else, she had no suitors, and her only friend was Rhaenyra, or so he thought.

The night his informant came back with the news that Daemon Targaryen had taken his daughter, his youngest child, in a pleasure house, Otto was enraged. His room was a mess, books scattered across the area, table turned over, the food spilled on the floor. Immediately, he had gone to the King, only to find Daemon already there. “Ah, Otto,” the King spoke, “I was just about to summon you.”

Viserys walked over to the Hand, giving him a goblet, “Daemon has just presented me with a fine idea,” he smiled at his brother, “Daemon should marry your daughter, Y/N. I think they would make a fine couple, and I’m sure Daemon would treat her very well.”

Otto was quick to respond, “Yes my King, but Daemon already has a lady wife.”

Viserys’ smile faded, “Did you not hear, the late Lady Rhea Royce has passed.”

Otto looked back and forth between Viserys and Daemon, now realizing there was not a single way that he could say no, it was a fine choice for his daughter, a prince.

—

After your night, Daemon had become quite more open with his flirting with you. With no one knowing about what happened, it felt like your own little secret. His glances were longer and more open than before, as if he wanted everyone who’s you were. Each touch was longer, each movement of your hair seemed to linger around your face, making you lost in his touch. No one could question why he was doing it, now that you were openly engaged. 

You wish that you could have told Alicent before the King did, before Daemon had proposed, but you did have enough time. Your relationship was falling apart with Alicent, and this had been the final straw. After a dinner with your father, Alicent had finally approached you since your engagement with Daemon. “I would think that you being wed to someone would include me,” she said immediately.

Surprised from the sudden intrusion you jumped, “Well, Alicent, I would think plotting to marry the King would have included me as well, but here we are.”

She let out a scoff, “You’re really still upset about that? I did the duty I had to, the duty of our house! At least father cares about what’s going on with me, because if he’s letting you marry Daemon he really has no care for you.”

You could feel the burn of your tears forming, begging them not to spill, “Good thing I’m not important enough to do my duty so I can marry the man I love!”

“You know nothing about love,” she said bitterly, “you barely know Daemon, you’ve done nothing with him, and if you did I would know.”

You walked right up to her, in her space, lowering your voice, “Oh yeah? Then explain to me how the Prince Daemon Targaryen fucked me raw in a pleasure house, and you had no idea.”

The look on her face made your pride swell. Your relationship with Alicent had finally broken, and you were no longer upset by it. She had been the block all along. Your entire life you felt you needed to to be just like her, you lived in her shadow. But now you truly realize your life is better, you can do what you want, you can marry who you want.

—

The preparations for your wedding started almost immediately after your argument with Alicent. Not much of the planning was on yours or Daemon’s part, as the King was extremely excited for his brother to finally be subdued. A royal feast was to be held after your ceremony, and then you would finally be alone with Daemon, for the first time since that night. You couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of finally being with Daemon again, feeling him again.

The day had gone by wonderfully, you and Daemon were now man and wife. Your sister Alicent was nowhere to be seen during the event, something to which had not gone unnoticed by the King. Before the end of the celebration, Viserys himself had apologized to you on behalf of Alicent’s behavior, assuring you that it will not happen at any other event of celebration for your matrimony. Daemon assured his brother it was okay, taking your hand to kiss it.

Daemon’s hand led you to your now shared chambers, his fingers woven in with yours. Once the door was open, you saw that there was fruit and wine on the table, and many more gifts around the room. 

Once the door had closed, he wasted no time in bringing his lips to yours, already grabbing at your hips. “You looked ravishing all night, darling,” you felt his hot breath as he whispered against your ear, “and it was so hard to not just take you then and there in front of everyone.”

Moaning at his words, you put your mouth against his again, moving your hands into his hair. His hands ran along your waist, stopping to grab your ass, “All mine now,”

Daemon slowly untied the back of your dress, helping you climb out of it, you help him out of his as well. He walked you to the bed, laying you down, spreading your legs apart. His hand started massaging your thigh as he ran his fingers up your slit, “all this for me? I haven’t done anything yet,”

Your cheeks flush at his words, rutting against his hand, “Please, Daemon,”

He plunged two fingers into you, curling them into a spot that you didn’t know was in you. His hand laid across your navel, his thumb rubbing swift circles across your clit. Each kiss along your thigh surging with pleasure. You could feel the pleasure building, closer, closer, your eyes shutting, hips meeting his fingers. His movements stopped, “you’re cumming on my cock tonight.”

Daemon crawled up your body, fixing himself between your legs as he nipped along your neck. His hand cupped your breast, pinching your nipple. “I’m going to fill you up,” he said as he rubbed his tip along your clit, reveling in the way your body shuddered for him. He sunk inside you, giving you no time to adjust, his hand finding its way to your neck, squeezing slightly. 

Each thrust hit that spot inside you in such a delectable way, making your mouth open in a silent cry. “Look at you, all cockdrunk on my cock,” his thrusts increased in pace, moving your knees to your shoulders. You couldn’t control the cry you let out as he hit so deep inside of you, stretching you so good, immediately making you cum on him.

His face scrunched in pleasure, his hair fanning around his face “mm Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me, your cunt taking me so well” his words already building another orgasm. 

Each touch felt like fire, igniting pleasure along your skin, you moaned deeply, nails clawing against his back, head flying back as you came together, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he fucked you through both of your highs, bottoming out. You could feel him twitch with each spurt.

Daemon stayed inside you for a moment, catching his breath, before laying his head against yours. For one moment the chaotic Prince softened, his hand caressing your cheek as he kissed you softly. You smiled softly as he pulled away rubbing your hand along his chest. He looked over at you with a smirk, “Are you trying to go again?”

You laughed lightly, “I don’t know how you could possibly come to that conclusion, my Prince.”

He moved himself over you, hands on either side of your head, “Oh I think you do, my Princess, shall we go again?”

---

@imnotyourbcbe​

[themotherofblood]

Dear author, you don't know how happy I am to see that your ad requests are open. That said can I get an extremely romantic, overwhelming, passionate and rough smut with Daemon x Martell fem reader inspired by the song "Ang laga de", please?

you have no fucking idea how happy this ask made me, like kicking my legs and smiling like a lunatic happy. I have envisioned this very smut scene at least a hundred times. It is a little dark, both Daemon and Y/N are kinda crazy in this. Madly in love, literally

masterlist

smut, talks of murder, blood, loss of virginity, oral (f), more blood, fingering and evil daemon being a softie.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!Martell Reader

“I refuse to be your mistress!”

That is the last thing you had said to your beloved dragon prince.

The Dornish were said to be a shameless lot regardless, and here you fell for a married man.

The Rhoynish gods were laughing at your stupidity, there wasn’t even a lure placed for you to catch. You simply fell for him, hard.

What had been a month long endeavour to see your younger sister wed a distant Targaryen cousin. Turned to your own nightmare. You had never craved for something as much as you had Daemon Targaryen. His flirtatious deeds, bringing your flowers and trinkets had bouncing like a little girl. It was frustrating, you had tried courting before and yet it felt flat, you truly believed that men simply were not capable of pleasing you. Until he came along, him and that stupid red dragon that made you want Daemon even more

He became the thing you wanted to cry to the gods about, the sweets yours parents wouldn’t let you have or that fine silk dress that was far too big for you to wear. His niece Rhaenyra, also egged this fire further and not once had either of them mentioned that he was married! It was painful, really fucking painful, learning that his loyalty was sworn to another.

You’d spent nights unable to sleep on foreign beds, awake in the royal gardens of the Red Keep, where the prince kept you company till the sun graced the horizon and you had succumbed to slumber with your head in his lap. There was serenity, shared comfort that dwelled between the two of you. You had heard stories, counted first hand of the nights he’d spend in brothels with his whores. You didn’t care, you wanted him.

“I refuse to be your mistress.”

It was a lie, you would happily become his salacious secret should he have asked a second time. There was no dignity, no obligations or customs, to you there was just him and the one truth that boiled your blood hot. You had already given him a piece of you heart as you boarded the ship to return home. You wanted him to ask again, to whisk you away on his dragon and yet he allowed you the curtesy to return home with your honour intact.

“If there is anything the crown can provide for Dorne, do not hesitate.” Viserys coughed his words out as he presented his farewells to you in a crowded court

“Should I ask, you wouldn’t be able to provide it your grace.” You wandered, keeping your head low in respect for the man and your wants

“What is it that a king cannot provide,” Otto Hightower questioned, taking offence to your wording.

“Daemon Targaryen.” You stated, gasps echoed across the throne room. You had committed a crime, stained your honour for good. You didn’t care nor did you give Daemon a last look before boarding your ship.

Honour- what was it compared to feel of being in his arms? What was devotion if not sound of his voice relaying Valyrian poetry? What was love, if not your heart that drowned in his blood?

What was love- if not the letter of his wife’s untimely injury?

Rhea Royce, bedridden of her paralysis, remained frozen and useless to her husband.

There was much that Daemon Targaryen was capable of, much that you were capable of. The sheer fire that burned your passions would have soaked your own hands in Rhae Royce’s blood.

She didn’t love him.

You did.

Then came your brother, his stupid alliance and vengeance against the Targaryen’s was costing you your sanity, you had pleaded with him for weeks and then you succumbed to the insanity that perhaps there was venom in your heart for whoever kept you from your dragon prince.

It festered for days, the mirrors in your room painted with clay. Refusing to look at yourself until he laid eyes upon you as his wife.

You had sat at supper with your brother, his disappointment was clear. You wanted to lay with the enemy, if loving Daemon was treachery then you would happily lay your hands forwards retribution. There should have been sorrow, a searing burn of guilt- he was your family, your blood. You shared a cradle and a mother; nothing more. Your sweet brother, for now was thorn digging into your palm as you admired the flourishing bud of devotion. He had to be plucked out.

The forbidden subject was brought up once more, there wasn’t a request in sight but a demand from his brazen sister.

“Let me be his, let him have me.” A prayer, Qoren grew irate over your insolent behaviour.

He loved you dearly, his sweet sister who was blinded by the rage of love. He wouldn't allow it, claiming to chain you to your chamber if you made an attempt to contact him. You said nothing as you nibbled on your food, spatters of blood dripped onto your pie. You could feel your throat constricting and yet it was nothing compared to the agony you had been in without Daemon.

Qoren coughed profusely, blood dripping from his nose as his eyes widened at your betrayal. In truth he had betrayed you first, choosing to keep you away from the one thing you had ever truly wanted. You could taste the copper on your lips, corners of your eyes welling with tears as you ripped the small pendant from your neck; even with the antidote to the poison in your system. The despair never stopped.

An unpleasant event truly, yet what was anyone to do, Qoren had no heirs and your blood-bled mustard. In the true picture of your house’s words, you remained unbent; raging on in sheer will for one man.

Even tainted in blood, you wore white for him; to remain pure, awaiting him to paint you in the colours of his house

He will return for me, for my love

There was no assurance that he would fly to you, no evidence that Rhae Royce’s accident wasn’t a mere coincidence; yet your arrogance had you rubbing rose oil onto your skin.

My dragon would return to me, you were sure of it.

For days the men sworn to the Martells had sighted the skies day and night, all in hopes of seeing a red dragon looming over the palace. The very ladies that had dressed you since you were a child urged for you to see reason, men often toyed with naive noble ladies for their amusement. He hadn't toyed with you, you were his cherished doll, one he stole because he simply could.

“Princess,” A young squire heaved, a folded parchment in between his fingers. Sealed with a three-headed dragon.

Your wish was my command princess.

Even without a name, the curls on his lettering were indicative enough an answer for you.

He had indeed harmed Rhea Royce for you, just as you had killed your brother Qoren for him. In your heart, you knew he would find you soon; just as your orders for exotic flowers and wines were distributed to merchants, people in your household began to whisper of your delusions.

Then the black skies graced your hopes, almost taunting all those who questioned your faith in him. The moon, full as is lit the ocean in its milky glow, from those very black skies came your faith. Loud whistles of a dragon echoed through Old Palace. Yet another young squire mumbled out in laboured breaths.

You smiled to yourself as your ladies sat in silent shock, their efforts in dressing you in white and gold would bear fruit tonight. Their feet sprung to action, the jangles from their anklets were muffled in your ears, and you just smiled to yourself. You hiked you skirts up as you skipped down the corridor, the jangles on your gold anklets seemed to have been cursing everybody who questioned you.

The doors to the Old Palace opened as Daemon Targaryen rode in on horseback, and along with him came a small entourage. He sat tall atop his horse, finally a Targaryen worthy of conquering Dorne. You were sure your ancestors were screaming bloody murder, shunning you and wishing you ill will, and yet as you stood at the enterance of the Old Palace, your father’s name meant nothing infront of the man you loved.

“In a bustling court you asked for me, may all see; I have arrived.” Daemon proclaimed as he stood with his arms out. You feet hurried down the steps, hoping to grace him with an eternal embrace and yet he raised his hand to stop you dead in your tracks

“I applaud you, for a devotion even I was unknown to. You stripped yourself bare of your honour and dignity for a relationship you had no right over.” He retorted, you couldn’t understand was her perturbed? Is that what he was here for, to lecture you?

“What reasoning do you have for this madness?”

“Love.” You stated, even the word in itself felt lacking for the true tempest that swirled in your environs. It had to be bigger, all consuming.

“The one revolts against the mightiest of dragons, that love,” You walked towards him “The one that fearlessly professes her devotion at court, that love.”

“When she sees her beloved and forgets her family, that love.” You eyes glossed over, consuming your skin in wild fire, begging him to claim you already

His hands harshly grasped your forearms, shaking sense into your as he spoke.

“The Faith and my brother’s court will never see you as one of theirs,” He warned.

“I accept.” You smiled.

“Marrying me would have you walking on fire!” He reasoned, hoping you would back away; a flower far to delicate for him to touch. He would give his life for you to not wither.

“I accept.” You nodded.

“I have a wife, Rhea.” He grimaced at the thought of his bronze bitch “I shall never be able to provide you the title of my first wife.” His hand trailed up to hold your cheek, stroking away the moisture that had looked below your eyes.

“Taking my name as yours will bring nothing but notoriety.” He kissed you cheek.

“I accept.”

“Then let it be known, the world would remember us as one,” He moved backwards gesturing towards the priest in his entourage.

“The Watergardens,” You stated, gesturing your servants to lead the priest to the location.

Daemon had allowed you moments alone, your household torn over what was happening. While many sighed in relief, perhaps you would finally eat; let life make your skin glow yet again. The storm gave away and your lamp was still burning bright. He presented you with a head piece made of khaki cloth, amber and rubies with stray pieces of shells. You handmaidens were quick with it, pinning it onto your hair as Daemon made his arrangements. Caraxes looked over the Watergardens, whistling just as ecstatically as his rider as he perched himself on the beach mount.

The universe seemed to have been in agreement of your emotions, the wind on the beach picked up; cooling your overwhelmed and hot skin. The skies were clear, twinkling in stars and the full moon as the complimented the low tided waves crashing ashore. Your own servants had been quick, decorating the gardens with yellow and red candles and exotic Bravosi flower arrangements placed on vases. Daemon awaited you by the shore line.

Your hands held a dhanuchi, clay burners that held sizzling coal pieces accompanied with sandalwood. You hiked your skirts up, walking towards Daemon, counting your steps as your bare feet hit the sand, you were trying your hardest to breathe; he stood their awaiting you looking as galant as the day he received you at the Blackwater ports, it was from that day you knew your fate would be painted black in his name.

Daemon turned, toying with a black obsidian dagger as his eyes softened the second he saw you. He held his hand out for you take as you stopped next to him, placing the dhanuchi at the alter.

“This will hurt,” He whispered, gesturing to the dragon glass daggers. You shook your head, no pain would compare to the three moons you had spent without him. He lifted the edge against your bottom lip, drawing blood as he gently slashed a cut, he guided your hands to do the same. The taste of copper filled your mouth, a stinging sensation ran through your lips; one you knew would only soothe once you felt his lips on yours.

Blood of two, joined as one

You cut a gash on your palm, wincing as blood trickled to the surface; Daemon did the same with his before grasping your bloodied palm within his. The priest wrapped a silk across your palms, your lover’s lilac eyes held concern for your pains and yet wild adoration. You were to be his. Blood began to trickle into the cup of wine placed under you as the priest continued.

Ghostly flame and a song of shadows

Daemon marked your forehead with his blood, you followed his lead as the priest instructed the symbol you drew, he then offered you the cup of wine laced with your blood. You eyes never once left Daemon’s as you sipped on the strong wine before giving him the cup to do the same.

Two hearts as embers, forged in the fourteen fires

His hands came to rest at your cheek, both growing restless of the vows as he wiped the dripping blood from your lips.

A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness.

You pulled yourself closer to him, one might say you were dazed from the blood loss, in truth it was Daemon’s lilac eyes, how his hands caressed your skin. The wanting fires that engulfed the alter seeming leave everything in ashes but the two of you.

The vows spoken through time, of light and darkness.

He whispered along with the priest.

There was no shame in the way your lips crashed against one another, you tasted his blood on your tongue and yet his hands scorched your skin, almost consuming your body whole as his hands wandered everywhere as his lips claimed you. A stray tear fell from your eyes as your held onto his face, letting his tongue explore yours. You couldn’t breathe from the passion of it all, not that you cared; you life was now his to do with as he pleased.

You rested on Daemon’s lap as he lounged on your window bed, working a healers poultice on the cut of his palm, still lingering in the after effects of wedding. His hands gently returned the favour as he wrapped yours in gauze, you prayed that it would scar; it was a testament for your devotion.

“There- all fixed sweet wife.” Daemon whispered, nudging his nose against your cheek. Heat immediately rose to you cheek as you looked away, you were his wife.

You shuffled off of him, you walked to the steaming dhanuchi that you had carried back to your bed chambers, you bed chambers smelled sweet from it aroma. You had lit in hopes of being blessed by the fertitly goddess, that your marriage remaind pure and secure for eternity. You pushed you skirts always as you climbed onto your bed, letting the steam grace and bless your bed with your unconditional wish.

You dropped the burner on the floor after, letting it submerge the room in its sweet smoke. You awaited your husband as he rid himself of his tunic, you shuffled closer as you sat on your knees. Admiring his toned body and taking account for every battle scar on his skin that you would spend the rest of your life healing with your love.

“Will- will you bed me now, husband?” You whispered, your lips dangerously closer to his, begging for another kiss.

“Oh, I plan to do more than just bedding you.” His lips moulded against yours once more as his hands tugged on the ties of your blouse.

“I conquer Dorne tonight,” He teased, peppering kisses to your temple down to you cheek. He pushed you back on the bed, almost immediately pouncing on top.

He grasped your wrists with one hand, pushing them above your head as he laid siege upon your neck. Laying warm- wet kisses and bruising nips at your neck; his hair tickling at your bare skin as your squirmed underneath him. There was no reasoning to the gentle throb that began pulsing at your core- you rubbed your thigh closer to make it halt. He pushed aside your unlaced blouse, your chest heaved as he suckled on your breast, pulling and licking the hardening pebble in his mouth.

You back arched if the bed, pushing your chest into his mouth, small open mouthed gasps left your mouth as his fingers danced past your navel; yanking on the fastening strings of skirts. His hands pushing your skirts and small clothes down at once, unwrapping you like present as your laid in his ordered positioning.

You succumbed to your exposure, you moved your head in shame, opting to look out at the glaring moon as it witnessed your de-flowerinng. Daemon took offence to your actions, using his fingers to guide your chin towards him as he groaned in disapproval.

“Three moons apart and you dare look away from me?” Daemon cocked his brow at you, freeing your hands as he ventured lower on your body.

“I- forgive me, my prince.” You whispered, your lungs refraining you from speaking any louder

“Husband,” He corrected as he pushed you legs apart.

“Husband.” You mewled in shame as his fingers stroked your folds that looked by the minute. His lips latched onto your inner left thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin.

All the while his eyes remained devious yet absurdly comforting, the two fingers that drew circles on your thighs or a small groans he left against your skin, indicative of how much he was truly enjoying himself. Just for his own satisfaction he marked your thighs at several spots, leaving darkening marks for you to reminisce over in the coming fortnight.

You felt intoxicated, revelling in the way his tongue wet your outer folds before indulging in the saccharine delight that was your cunt, a shameless moan echoed through your bed chambers as you felt his tongue flicking at a much sensitive spot. He moaned against your mound the second your taste hit his tongue.

His palm, large enough to lay flat over your soft belly to hold you flush a against the bed as he took his liberties, lapping at your like his last meal had been consumed days before. His eyes bore into yours, his own demeanour turning to command, strumming the pleasures of your body to his own rhythm.

“Such a sweet delight,” He complimented, mostly to distract you from his finger easing into your tightness. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion. “This shall ease the discomfort.” He elaborated before spitting onto your folds

Your head fell backwards in shame, focusing on the comforting caresses in your torso as Daemon plunged his finger in knuckle deep. You couldn't take the prolonging tasks no longer. You whined, pawing at Daemon’s trousers.

“Please, please have me already.” You begged, you wanted to feel him within you. You could careless of the pain or discomfort, you just wanted to be one

“Take them off,” He instructed, your hands immediately worked on unbuttoning his pants, before digging your fingers into her rear to pull them down. His cock- that thing hung pliant between his legs. Part of you looked up at him curiously, and the other half wondered how your envious would engulf such a monstrosity. Your eyes silently asked for permission, to which Daemon simply stroked your hair as your wrapped your hand around the warm appendage. You were unsure of what to do.

“Stroke it, gently.” He guided you as you followed, feeling his cock twitch in your hands as you moved your hands back and forth. His tip soon glistened in moisture leaking from within. All Daemon could think of were your sweet lips wrapped around his cock and yet there was an eternity to teach you of the pleasures of the flesh. “Good girl,” He cooed.

He urged you to lay back against the pillows, working his length to harden to its full potential. He hesitated, having taken many maiden heads before, he needed this to be delicate as he tore through yours. He circled his tip at your sensitive rose bud before pushing at your entrance. You gasped out loud, letting you arms wrap around his shoulders as he inched forwards.

The stretch of his efforts shot a stinging sche through your pelvis, and he halted. Kissing your cheek and cooing at you in an attempt to alleviate even a fraction of the discomfort you were in. He advanced all the way in, hoping to let your ride out the waves of pain; you cried out louder and yet there was a little more left to go

“Look at me, just me. I shall make it better.” He groaned, hoping to suppress his own pleasures that coursed through his body, your tightness strangling his cock with threats of nearly milking him dry before anything had even begun. He felt selfish for feeling bliss as you silently wept underneath him, he caressed your cheek, the thing he held onto as his lips kissed your face. Peppering kisses to your forehead and your lips, over and over again as he inched forward

“Dae-” You shrieked as he finally bottomed out within you, the pressure of the stretch making your eyes well in more tears. You pulled yourself closer to him, trying to muffle your weeps on the crook of his neck. His arm reaches under you to support your neck. His deeper voice whispered encouragements as he awaited you to adjust to the pain.

“Look at how well you take me,” He whispered in between kisses that he pressed in your temples “Made just for me, aren't you? My sweet little wife.”

“Just for you,” You sniffled, letting yourself rest back against the pillows.

There was a humiliating familiarity in the way your aches encouraged your actions, you shuffled underneath him. Hoping to get him to move and yet he solely focused on doting on your body.

“Husband-” You whimpered, making his eyes shoot to you as they were focused on where the two of you were connected just moments before. He hummed in acknowledgement

“Can you- um please.” You stuttered, almost frustrated at yourself for losing your wording this easy.

“You have to tell me sweet wife, show me what you need.” He asked, urging his will into your answer.

“Please move- I need you to move.” You requested, he smiled before angling his hips backwards; hissing wantonly in the process and you mewled under him. There was pain within the first few thrusts and yet the deranged tendencies of your blood milked pleasure from the pain that subsided to a subtle pressure in your belly.

Daemon lost his composure, uttering vulgarities in your ear; the most obscene of sentences paired with the sweets of names he had picked for you.

“Perfect little hole, taking me so well,” He’d compliment one minute.

“Should have fucked this cunt the first day I laid eyes on you sweet girl,” The next he’d complain of the things he’d regretted.

He held your jaw, a feral smirk adoring his lips as he took your apart, your bangles clicking as your body bounced with his determined thrusts.

“Daemon!” You shrieked, such hurtful pleasure causing you to bed for such sinful things

“Just like that, scream your husband’s name.” He grunted, “Let all of Dorne know who owns this pretty body. Go on tell me.”

“You do, you do.” Cries poured from your lips as you held onto his forearms. “My Daemon,” You moaned as pulled yourself up to kiss his lips.

“Yes, yes sweet girl. All yours.” His deviant smile widened. Your cunt began to flutter around him, such flattery could mean just one thing as Daemon pushed his pelvis against yours, his thrusts grinding at your nub.

“That’s it, just lay there and take my seed,” He growled, his playing again harshly grasping your jaw to make you look at him.

“Dae- Daemon!” The ever impending storm began to paw at your insides,

Not long now- “I want it, I want babes and so much more. Please, please.” You begged to hope that itch would finally give way, and so it did. With no warning and only a scream of your husband’s name, your body erupted in ecstasy.

Daemon groaned out loud, muttering praises of your name, good girl, his sweet girl. Yes, you were. All for him as you loomed on a cloud perched high above the ground, you only registered Daemon’s thrusts faltering and warm filling your core, and then you felt Daemon’s caresses on your skin as you coaxed your heaving body to stability.

“Still with me?” He whispered against your hair and all you could muster was a lazy nod against his chest. You hissed feeling his cock leave your opening, he pushed you through it all. Letting his body weight do the work for you as he pulled himself to sit up along with you.

You finally opened your eyes, blinking away stray tears as he wiped at the trails of moisture on your cheeks. He bundled your exhausted body against his as he lifted you off your bed, walking you along to your chaise before wrapping a spare blanket against both your bodies, almost rocking your vulnerable body to a humming under his breath.

Maids poured into the clear martial bed, they all frowned at the image of their beloved Lady Martell curled against a dragon without a care as you nuzzled against him. Daemon snapped his fingers at them as they began to carry the bloodied sheets away, gesturing to the corner of the room for them to leave it behind. He planned to gift it to his brother’s council, as a warning.

There was nothing anybody could refuse Daemon Targaryen from- that and that he had a new wife. A wife of his choice, a wife he intended on loving until his death bed.

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+) (Completed)

Synopsis : A decade after he left, you reunite with your dad's best friend Daemon Targaryen. He was older and wise, cheeky but nice and good lord he was oh so sexy. A harmless crush you had on your uncle-like figure returned as well upon his arrival but he wasn't attainable, he could never be, not for you, for you he'd always be forbidden. So what will happen when you figure out that the attraction you had towards him was not one sided now that you weren't a kid no more.

Warning: 18+, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, read the warnings in every chapter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 (End)