#daemon stannies

[targaryen-dynasty]

COMFORT.

Daemon Targaryen x valyrian!Reader

You understand the Rogue Prince like no other, and so it's your task to put his mind at ease again when he stumbles into the brothel.

WORDS: 1.5 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, ass eating, handjob, balls worship, size kink, squint and you'll miss the breeding kink, valyrian!Reader (has pale skin, silver hair), bastard Valyrian/High Valyrian

NOTES: I KNOW I said I’d leave for some while, and I’m not really active on here besides setting up a queue but I just couldn‘t let go of the thoughts of some good ol‘ ass eating with our uncle-daddy. This work is not meant for educational purposes, but please wash yourself before doing sth like this.

It was a lacklustre affair.

Daemon had been thrusting and thrusting for quite some time with little effort or enthusiasm, arousing nothing but awkwardness and deep desire for it to be over. 

Perhaps it was your faked moans of pleasure or perhaps the disheveled state he was in when he stormed into Chataya’s, nevertheless, he was disgruntled as he pulled out of you, clearly frustrated by his poor performance. 

As he sat down on the sill, quilt wrapped around his hanging shoulders, you were quickly reminded that the usually confident, self-assured and strong Rogue Prince that didn’t much care what anybody thought of him actually very much cared, and was nothing more than a tender man who was wracked with doubt. 

Getting on your feet, you prowled toward him, standing between his parted legs. You cupped his face with one hand, forcing him to look up at you. 

“It is possible the Queen will give birth to yet another girl,” you tried to cheer him up, grabbing both his large hands and caressing them with your thumbs. Alas, the attempt did not bear fruit, the dragon in front of you merely scoffing. It seemed there were a few more layers you had to peel off tonight to figure out what truly plagued him, though you suspected something–or someone–particularly to bother his mind. 

You squeezed his hands before pulling him onto his feet, despite him seeming rather reluctant. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, my Prince,” you hummed, and guided him back toward the bed. 

When he lay down on his back, you tsked, “va ao iemny.” On your stomach. It was your Lysene origin that granted you the ability to speak a version of bastard Valyrian, and was one of the main reasons the Prince had chosen you a few moons ago. That, and your pale skin and silver hair. 

His lilac eyes widened ever so slightly at your bold command, but he complied. The bed barely dipped beneath your knees as crawled between his parted legs. You sat back on your haunches and trailed your ring clad fingers over his sides, starting at the top. A few of the scars were traced by your fingertips, and you relished in the way he shivered under the gentle and teasing touch. 

Keeping a close eye on him allowed you to spot the way his upper body moved in sync with his heavy breathing. What surprised you the most was that he held his eyes closed, visibly enjoying your ministrations despite them being barely there. 

“Bisa iksis daor mirre,” you said, the smirk on your lips reflecting in your tone, “iksan daor gaomagon.” This isn’t all. I am not done. 

Reaching for one of the more firmer pillows, you grabbed his hip to raise it a bit before shoving it underneath his lower stomach, angling his hips and giving you the best possible access to his rear and cock. Daemon was open-minded and had ample experience up his sleeve, and it wasn't the first time you paid attention to anything other than his cock. 

You bowed forward, your lips finding the sensitive spot in the nape of his neck that always had him purring like a cat and bending to your every wish. Lingering there for a few moments with your teeth nibbling on his skin, you eventually licked over the faint mark that followed in your teeth’s wake, before departing down. 

While open-mouthed kisses were pressed to his spine, both of your hands began to tease his buttocks. At first, it was only gentle caressing, but as your mouth traveled lower, the bolder your hands got. You squeezed his flesh, and gently parted his buttocks to expose his arsehole to the warm breath you exhaled. 

Your eyes flickered up to gauge Daemon’s reaction for a split second before you gathered some saliva and spat it onto his unprepared hole. His muscles tensed slightly with the sudden wetness, but when your index finger circled around the rim, he relaxed just as quick. 

A faint hum was audible, coming from the Prince in front of you, and when you pushed the first digit in, it was replaced by a groan. 

“Fuck–” 

“How does that feel, my Prince?” you purred.

“Good,” he rasped. 

That was encouragement enough for you to spit into your other hand, coating his cock in it and using the slickness to tug on it with ease. Being penetrated on both ends had him releasing wanton moans in no time, only increasing in volume as you bowed forward and replaced your finger at his arsehole by your lips and tongue. 

If it wasn’t for your mouth and tongue being occupied by sucking and lapping at his hole, you would’ve chuckled as he desperately pushed his hips back against your face. You dragged your tongue over the rim, and kept your blue-lilacish eyes on the Prince beneath, watching carefully what worked best and what not. 

One of your hands spread his buttocks, allowing you to keep your lips against his ass as your tongue pushed in. You stilled briefly, but were spurred on when you heared the strained groan he released. 

“Sīr sȳz, gaomagon jāre,” he panted, “... kostilus.” Hearing him beg was new, but you couldn’t deny that you found a certain liking in it. So good, keep going. Please. 

As you felt his cock twitch in your hand, indicating that he was on the verge of peaking, you released it and instead processed to fondle the sac of his stones, squeezing it. 

The whine that escaped his throat as you pulled back to spit into your hand was the epitome of pathetic, and he obviously had your teasing coming. “Skoros massitas naejot se nēdenka dārilaros, mh?” What happened to the fierce Prince, mh?

“Jorrāelagon nyke naejot–” The threat died on his tongue as yours dove back into his arsehole, returning to its task with vigor. Need me to–

Just like his cock, his stones were coated in your saliva, making it easier to fondle and squeeze them. Daemon started to rut his hips, and it was clear what he was doing or rather chasing. With his hard cock rutting against the pillow, your hand fondling his stones and your tongue fucking in and out of his hole, he felt his peak slowly building at the base of his shaft. 

If it would’ve been any other patron, you would’ve stopped your ministrations and thought about a punishment to put him back in his place, but it was no normal patron lying in front of you. It was a Prince, and a dragon in flesh at that. 

Your tongue and hand were tireless in their motions, determined to push the rogue over the edge, and judging by the way he was writhing and rutting as if his life depended on it, he was close to toppling over.

The strained groan he wanted to release, the one that always came whenever he spent himself, was replaced by a gasp, caught off guard by the way your tongue curled up on its way out, tugging at the rim in a way that drove him insane. 

“Seven hells,” he grunted, and was quick to wrap one hand around his twitching member, tugging on it to embrace the approaching release that threatened to undo him. 

“I–I’m–” the words cut off as his peak crashed over him. His other hand fisted the covers tight enough for his knuckles to blanch, while his hips and hand worked in tandem with your own and your tongue to coax him through the pleasure.

His orgasm tingled at the spot where his sac met his cock, and it was almost ridiculous how much of his spent squirted out and coated the sheets and the pillow below. It was such a shame it went to waste, because you knew at least one spot of your body where you would’ve preferred it. 

You had withdrawn your mouth from his hole not long after the peak subsided, and crawled up and hovered over his tall frame. Collapsing on top of him, he merely scoffed at the added weight, but was quick to hum as your lips pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. A tired smile was adorning his features, and his lilac eyes were closed again, relishing in the bliss he felt. 

“How do you feel?” you asked, and though your blueish eyes twinkled with mischief, the genuine concern seeped through your words regardless. Daemon kept on smiling, reaching up to gently cradle your face before he grabbed your body, keeping you steady on top as he turned to lie on his back. His head was propped up on a pillow and yours was resting on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into calmness. 

“Iksi henujagon syt Zaldrīzesdōron isse se ñāqatubis,” he mused. We are leaving for Dragonstone in the morning. 

And when you looked at him with utter confusion written all over your face, he elaborated further. “You are foolish if you think I would go into exile without you.”

[happilyhertale]

The Rogue Prince - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a stressful day that leaves Daemon in a bit of an angry mood, you decide to give him some relief. But in a different way than you usually do.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x poc!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (: A one-shot Daemon story requested by Anon 🖤 It took me some time but I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You didn't have to look up, just the way the door slammed open was enough of a sign for you to know - Daemon was pissed. He entered without knocking, his armour clattering against itself.

In a mixture of snorts and grumbles, your husband strode into your chambers. As you lifted your gaze, your warm hazel eyes met the captivating intensity of his purple eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. Your curious gaze wandered further, discovering the mess of dirt and the almost macabre pattern of dried blood clinging to him. Uncertainly, you put aside the book you were engrossed in and approached Daemon, who was already in the process of freeing himself from the constricting confines of his armour. But before you could approach him, a piece of his armour flew into the far corner of the room.

"It will not improve your mood if you damage your armour," you say gently and help him to open his armour.

He just looks at you and his gaze makes you shiver a little again.

"What do I care about this fucking armour?" he hisses.

You look at him and your hands continue to work on the buckles and remove the chest piece.

"You want to tell me what happened?" you ask quietly.

There is a brief silence in your chambers and you use the time to admire his muscular chest, visible under his shirt. His body does not fail to bring you to ecstasy.

You look into his eyes again as he begins to speak.

"None of these idiots in this council understand the importance of cleansing our city of these filthy criminals! Not one!" he hisses.

You nod at him and try to concentrate on his words and not let his body distract you.

Your hands continue to work on the buckles of his armour.

"The city is full of disgusting creatures. They steal, they kill, they rape and none of those cunts at that council table give a shit!" he continues to hiss.

"But you do," you say softly and his eyes meet yours.

"I will teach these people to fear the golden cloaks again," he says in his deep voice.

You smile slightly and take off the last piece of his armour. Your fingers begin to take off his shirt.

"First we have to clean you up," you say gently.

Daemon's soft chuckle, markedly different from his previous behaviour, resounds through the air as he spreads his arms and asks you to release him from his shirt. His shimmering silver lengths fall over his shoulders, framing the network of scars etched into the skin of his neck and nape. These battle-scarred marks, created by victories and fire, are revealed in all their glory.

Your fingertips run tenderly over these well-deserved scars, your soft olive hue a striking contrast to his pale skin. You relish these imprints of his commanding prowess on the battlefield, each scar telling its own story, a testament to his unwavering leadership qualities. Daemon watches the movements of your fingers and notices how your gaze is fixed on his chest, unable to avert your gaze.

"Are you sure you just want to bathe me?" he murmurs, and your gaze jumps to his eyes.

You smile slightly, "Yes, I do," you say seriously and take his hand, leading him into the adjoining bathroom. Daemon grunts in disappointment, but lets himself be led along. The bath is quickly prepared and warm steam rises from the tub.

Daemon stands next to the tub of hot water and begins to open his trousers. As they slide down, you can see his already hardening arousal, but you avert your gaze and go to a small dresser in the corner of the bathroom.

Daemon watches you, a grin on his lips.

"Oh come on... You can't ignore my needs like that..." he says, but you interrupt him.

"Into the warm water with you," is all you say as you look through small bottles on the dresser to find the right one. You have these little vials from your home in Dorne, filled with different elixirs, and this time you want to put him in the right, stimulating mood.

Daemon grumbles something unintelligible, but obeys and gets into the tub. His gaze is fixed firmly on your back.

"Will you at least keep me company?" he asks, and you can hear in his voice that he is getting impatient.

You turn to him and smile, "No... at least not in the water," you say softly.

With two bottles in your hand, you stride to the bathtub. In the soft, flickering light created by candles, Daemon's gaze fixes on you and you can see an unspoken desire in the depths of his eyes to just grab you. But instead of giving in to temptation, his hands grip the edge of the tub. He leans back slightly and lets you pleasure him, a sign of trust he has only in you.

You kneel behind him, set the vials aside and carefully remove the hair ribbon from its silken lengths. As the ribbon gives up its hold, his hair falls gracefully over his shoulders. The once shining silver strands, now clouded with dirt and sweat, literally crave your touch. You gently begin to work water into the lengths, and the soothing rhythm elicits a contented murmur from Daemon as his eyes are gently closed.

Your hand wanders to a vial, its lid giving way with a soft, melodic pop at your careful touch. At this slight disturbance, Daemon's eyes flicker open to take in the unexpected intrusion.

"What's that?" he murmurs. You smile slightly, "Lavender oil... I like it when your hair smells fresh," you say soflty.

Daemon reflects your soft smile, "All right... If my Dornish princess wants me to smell like a silly bush from the garden, I don't think I could refuse," he mutters. With a smile, you apply a few drops of oil to his shiny silver locks and enjoy the feel of his long strands gliding through your fingers as the accumulated dirt runs effortlessly down.

After pampering him with your grooming, you rise and hand Daemon a towel. With a synchronised movement, he accepts the towel, and as he dries himself, you return to the bedroom with the other vial of elixir. Daemon follows you silently, his shapely form wrapped in the loosely hanging towel.

"Now you're going to take care of my needs?" he says to you, a cheeky smile around his lips. And at that moment you notice the bulge under the towel. You smile, "Lie down on the bed," you say.

Daemon's smile widens, like that of a child who finds an unexpected, delicious treat. He complies with your request and lies down in your marital sanctuary - the very bed where he makes you squirm and beg every night. But this night it will be different.

With an expectant gaze, Daemon watches your every move. How you slowly take off your dress and walk towards the bed. You crawl onto the bed and his hands reach out longingly to pull you close.

But you push them away, "Hands by your side," you say and move to sit astride him. Daemon looks irritated, but he obeys. You take the bottle and open it while Daemon watches you closely.

"More lavender oil?" he asks, "You know I'll have trouble commanding my men if my whole body smells like a flower bouquet" he says.

With a soft chuckle, you murmur, "Not a hint of lavender..." as the delicate scents of osmanthus and patchouli dance around you, washing you with their stimulating embrace as you place a few drops of the oil on your warm palm. Daemon's eyes remain fixed, transfixed by your hands as you set about the task of massaging the oil into his powerful chest.

"And I don't think you'll have any problems commanding your men.... No matter how you smell..." you say softly.

Daemon can only growl slightly as he slowly feels the effect of the scents and his arousal presses harder against you. You can feel a slight movement of his hips as he tries to grind against you. You stare into his eyes as your hands continue to glide over his skin.

"Don't move," you say to him. Daemon grunts, but he obeys - again.

You hear his breathing become more irregular as your hand turns to his belly. Slowly you massage the oil into the muscles of his belly, but your hands are unstoppable. You sit up a little and release him from the towel and his hot length springs free. It twitches wildly as you begin to rub his pubic hair with the oil. It twitches even more wildly as your hands turn to the shaft of his cock, which almost invites you to let yourself sink onto it. Daemon grunts impatiently, wanting to move his hips again, to somehow get close to your cunt.

"Don't," you just whisper, and your hands begin to wander up and down. You hear him gasp, see his hands gripping the sheet beneath you tightly. Your hands slide faster as his member literally pulses. Daemon breathes faster and faster as he chases his climax and you can already see the first drops of his release coming from the tip of his cock. You lean down and lick them away and hear him hiss.

"Woman, you will be my death," he whispers breathlessly. You just look up at him, grinning a little, and bite your lip. Your hand slides up and down faster.

It also increasingly excites you that he could just grab you, push you onto the bed and thrust into you, but he does not. He lies there and lets the feelings and actions wash over him.

When suddenly you feel a strong twitch in his member and Daemon spurts his hot seed onto his belly. He grunts loudly and watches you pump the last drops of cum out of his cock. He breathes heavily and closes his eyes briefly. His head falls back on the pillow.

"I think I need to take another bath..." he mumbles.

But you only smile, "I'm not done with you yet," you whisper. Daemon opens his eyes and looks at you in irritation.

You notice how he slowly softens in your hand, but it is not over for you yet. Slowly you slide further down and push his legs apart. You kneel between his legs and your hand gently moves along his shaft again. Daemon hisses slightly as you lean down.

You take his softening member into your mouth and begin to suck. The remnants of his cum unfold their salty taste on your tongue, but you love the way he tastes.

Daemon gasps, "What are you doing?"

But you just grin slightly and push him all the way down your throat.

"Gods...", Daemon gasps, but you notice that he is getting hard again.

But then, with a pop, you release his cock from your mouth. He is breathing heavily and still looks irritated, his cock hard again and standing in all its glory.

Daemon's heavy breath echoes from the walls of your chambers. You move and lie down beside him. You bite your lip gently and lean forward, kissing his neck softly. Your tongue is like pure fire that hits his skin and could cause new scars. A hot, arousing fire. His hips rise again with arousal and his hand reaches for the back of your head to move your head down. But you stop caressing his neck and look at him. You shake your head resolutely and Daemon pulls his hand back grumbling.

His voice fails in his throat and nothing more leaves his mouth as he slowly loses control. A growl sounds from him and his back arches slightly as your hand begins to caress his chest.

A moan escapes him as your nails leave light marks on his skin.

"Stop it, love," he murmurs. "You're driving me crazy" But you see his cock twitch wildly and you know he doesn't want you to stop. His hands reach into the sheet again and you know, that it's taking all his will not to grab you. Gently your lips graze over his neck as your fingers gently move down, teasing him. You feel the remnants of his previous climax and you see him bite his lip as you slide through it. His eyes are closed and you can see him enjoying this. Your fingers gently caress his abdomen, following the light hair to your destination.

A moan escapes him again. His hand suddenly reaches for your arm and you gasp softly, feeling his fingertips dig into your arm, showing you how much you're already teasing him. But you are not finished yet.

Daemon tries to concentrate on staying calm for your sake.

Once again, you can't stop your fingers from stroking his pubic hair as your smile widens. You watch his expression as you caress him.

A sharp intake of breath comes from his throat. He feels nothing but your touch. His fingertips dig further into your arm, but he finds it hard to stay still. You feel his muscles twitch and he just wants to pull you closer to him and take control of the situation so he can use your body as he wants.

But he forces himself to stay still. He forces himself to enjoy the passive role for once.

Your fingers gently graze the tip of his hard manhood. You bite your lip as you feel it twitch. As you close your fingers around the tip and the twitch shoots through your fingers.

"Ops...", you say softly, with an air of innocence, but Daemon knows you are not innocent and it's impossible for him not to react to that – a soft hiss escapes him.

His back arches slightly upwards and he grips your arm even tighter. His head turns towards you. His eyes are still closed, but you feel his lips seek yours. But you let him suffer. Let him feel what it is like to be on the receiving end of something like this.

"Is this what I put you through every night?" he suddenly asks softly, still keeping his eyes closed. You hear a slight breathlessness in his voice.

You smile again, "Yes... Every time you tease me..." you whisper.

You feel at your fingertips how his arousal continues to make itself felt, and the drops wet the tip of his cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper.

He responds with a low growl, as if he's too busy enjoying it to reply with words.

His fingers disengage from your arm and sink to the bed, holding them still. It works up to a point. But you see his fingers clench into fists again and again.

You lean forward again and gently kiss his neck. Lightly you let your teeth sink into the skin. Again you hear a slight growl.

But still your fingers do not touch his hard member. Teasingly you only stroke his tip, refusing to embrace it completely. You feel it twitch violently again and again. Almost desperately it wants you to touch it. And again a moan escapes Daemon's throat.

You notice his breath quickening, and your own smile turns into a wicked little grin.

His fingers clutch the sheets on the bed as his muscles tremble slightly. You can feel the tension building inside him.

"Stop it... stop..," he murmurs, his voice strained by the desire to just grab you.

You continue to nibble on his neck. Your fingers, meanwhile, are stroking his pubic hair again, your caress growing rougher.

"Would you like me to touch you?" you whisper. With this question you have sealed his fate.

You see him contort his face almost painfully, trying to resist his urge. It would be so easy for him to give in, to just turn and take you as he wants. You see the inner struggle in him. The Rogue Prince who never begs, never bows to any command. The dragon who needs control over every situation. But still you see his breathing quicken, his muscles tremble slightly, he moistens his lips.

"Yes..." he whispers after a while, almost defeated.

But then his fingers move to your hips, wanting to grab you and force you closer to him. You slap his hand away.

"No, Daemon. Get your hands off me," you whisper warningly in his ear. You underline your momentary power and nibble lightly on his earlobe.

Your fingers now find their way to his balls, your fingernails gently scratching the now taut skin and he hisses again.

It's a struggle for him to take his hands off your hips. He doesn't want to. But he obeys.

You continue the torment, your fingernails almost driving him mad.

"You know you'll pay for this, you little pest," his voice sounds a little hoarse.

But with each word his voice grows softer and is now just a low murmur as his body continues to tremble with desire. You have the power over this moment, and you know it. You smile just slightly, knowing you will pay for this, and a feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

"Please," he murmurs suddenly. His breathing is quick and heavy. Right now he is nothing more than your plaything. The Rogue Prince on the verge of begging.

You bite his neck again, "Please, what, my love?" you whisper as your fingernails continue to tease his balls. He hisses again. His hips jerk a little, desperate for a touch.

His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find words to say what he wants. It's all gasps and moans and deep, animalistic noises now.

"Please... I need more...," he finally murmurs weakly. He can't say much more, he wants you too much. You know it. He knows it. You both know it.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he hisses again. He clenches his teeth as you grab his balls. He tries to take a deep breath to keep his voice low, but he can't stop his voice from shaking. "Touch me...", these are the only words he manages to say.

Your hand continues to grip his balls, squeezing them gently.

You kiss his neck, "My Rogue Prince...", you whisper.

He is silent now, looking at you with half-closed eyes, his breathing heavy.

You continue to kiss and nibble on his neck as your hand holds him tight, enjoying this newfound power over him. "If you keep this up, I swear we won't leave this bed for at least twelve hours. And I will make you suffer,“ he hisses, his last attempt at exuding dominance.

You smile at him, your fingers now slowly stroking along his shaft.

"I wouldn't mind," you whisper.

His hard manhood is dripping with precum. Your hand wanders along his hard manhood. It twitches violently as you rub the pecum over its tip. He gasps and grunts.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" you whisper as you nibble on his neck again.

"Yes...!" Daemon suddenly groans. You're playing with fire and you know it. Your teasing only drives him closer to his climax without you actually touching him. But you embrace him fully now, and the sudden rough touch makes him grunt loudly. Your hand wanders up and down, your other hand starts massaging his balls again.

"Then come for me, love...", you whisper. You are also breathing harder by now as your hand slides along his hard manhood. He is moaning uncontrollably by now, his manhood twitching. His eyes are closed and his hips are twitching.

His fingers dig deep into the sheet as he makes sounds you didn't think he was capable of. But his moans turn into hisses as your hand works faster.

He pulls your head towards him and kisses you fiercely, almost desperately. He holds nothing back now and you let him.

"My wife. My Dornish princess. My queen. I am yours. Only yours.", Daemon gasps and you feel the twitch move from his balls up into his cock.

And then he comes. Again his seed spurts onto his belly, while your hand does not slacken in its movement. You're still kissing him and he moans and whimpers into your mouth.

Daemon releases the kiss, still breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Softly he whispers your name, smiling.

"You're cruel, you know that? Cruel and beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle softly and watch the movements of his face. After a few deep breaths from him, he suddenly moves. So suddenly that you gasp slightly. Your eyes grow wide as he suddenly hovers over you. You stare into his violet eyes, his cum dripping onto your soft, olive skin, creating a complete contrast. Daemon slides his finger through it as it continues to drip, just as you did on his skin before. A dark grin on his lips.

"I'm going to make you pay even more cruelly for this..." he murmurs and before you can say anything, his lips meet yours and his hand finds its way between your thighs. Your whimpers echo through your chambers as his hand grips your cunt roughly.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @sylasthegrim

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Eyes Black Like an Animal

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, smut, choking, degradation, rough sex. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: When Daemon returns covered in blood from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, his wife requests that he uses her to ease his anger. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The steam from the bath she has had the chambermaid prepare curls upwards from the water, dampening the bare skin of her neck as she leans over it to pour in the scented oils, the precise ones she knows Daemon likes.

This is their nightly routine. He will be back from his duties as commander of the City Watch soon and, ever the dutiful wife, she always has a bath awaiting him, so that he can wash away the grime of the city.

The heavy wood of the door to their chambers slams loudly against the stone wall, the noise echoing off of the vaulted ceilings, causing her to startle. Her head snaps up, eyes widening as she takes in the sight of her husband.

He stalks through their apartments, his expression a glower, ichor splattered across his face. His hands are bloodied and there is a darkened stain across the breastplate of his armour. His golden cloak seems to be the only thing that has escaped the gore that decorates him.

Rushing to him, she takes his face in her hands, only to be gently pushed away as quickly as she touches him.

“Leave me,” he says sullenly, unclasping Dark Sister from his sword belt and leaning it against the wall.

“You are hurt,” she protests as her arms drop slowly back to her sides, her brow furrowing in concern.

“It is not my blood,” he snaps, dropping his helmet down onto the settee with a clatter, before striding over to the bathtub and rinsing his hands and face.

She watches the blood float through the water like tendrils of silk, her mind racing with thoughts of the terrible fate someone has likely met at the hands of her husband this evening. When Daemon straightens again his face is clean, but his dark and angry demeanour remains.

“What happened?” She asks gently, eager to reach for him but knowing her touch is the very last thing he wants when he is in this mood.

“I executed justice,” he tells her, drying his face and hands, “but that is not the problem. My brother gave me an army of two thousand men to command, yet his cunt of a Hand feels it is his right to dictate the punishments I see fit to serve.”

There it is; Otto. Daemon’s rivalry with the Hand of the King had been a bitter one ever since Otto had convinced Viserys to remove Daemon from office when he was Master of Coin, and again when he was appointed as Master of Laws.

Daemon has flourished in his new position as commander of the City Watch since being awarded it, yet he is at constant odds with Otto regarding the harsh punishments he exacts on the criminals of King’s Landing.

“He had the audacity to compare me to Maegor the Cruel,” he continues, and she can see the anger within him rising once more as his gaze darkens and his nostrils flare.

She takes a tentative step forward, eager to calm him down, not wanting him to ruin their evening with his foul temper. “My love, you know his words are untrue. Pay him no mind and allow me to help you out of your armour.”

He shakes his head, turning away from her. “You are better off leaving me alone tonight. I have no kindness to offer you.”

Taking another step towards him, she speaks quietly. “What if it is not your kindness that I seek?”

His head lifts, half looking over his shoulder at her as his eyebrow raises in curiosity. “And what is it you do seek?”

She swallows thickly, her pulse racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. “I want your anger, your frustration, all of it. Take it out on me.”

Daemon turns fully, closing the gap between them slowly, a predatory glint in his eye as he looks down at her, leaning in so close that his nose brushes against hers. “Are you fully aware of what it is that you are asking for?” He whispers, his breath fanning hotly against her face.

Her core throbs in anticipation, thoughts of how roughly Daemon manhandles her in the throes of passion swirl in her mind, making her feel lightheaded with lust. “Yes,” is all she is able to utter.

“Very well then.” His hand reaches around the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging gently so that she is forced to meet his eyes. “And what is it you say should you wish to stop?”

“K–kelītīs,” she stammers, arousal making it feel as though there is fire in her veins.

“Good girl.” He gives her hair another gentle tug, before grasping the back of her neck and pushing her towards the bed. “Lay down. On your back.”

She does exactly as she is told, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the accelerated breaths of her excitement.

Daemon grabs hold of her by the ankles dragging her until her backside just barely rests on the edge of the mattress. Still fully clad in his armour and golden cloak, he reaches for the dagger that remains sheathed upon his sword belt. Her breath hitches as he withdraws it, a shiver running through her body, whether it is from fright or anticipation she is unsure. The Valyrian steel shines in the dull light of the bedchamber and when he brings it down upon the neckline of her nightgown it moves through the material like fingers through spiderwebs.

The dagger rattles with a metallic clink against the flagstone floor as Daemon drops it, pulling open the now two-slashed halves of her cotton shift to reveal her nakedness. A low noise of approval rumbles in his throat, the sound shooting straight between her thighs as she feels wetness gather there.

Daemon’s pupils are blown wide with lust, in the low lighting they appear almost black as he stares hungrily down at her. He leans over her, the coldness of his armour against her bare skin making her gasp. Her nipples pebble at the chilly sensation and, as though fully in tune with her body’s response to him, two of Daemon’s calloused fingers tweak harshly at one of them. It is a pleasurable hurt, one that makes her mewl piteously and arch against him.

“Wanton little thing,” Daemon rasps, “I bet you’re wet already.”

His other hand finds its way between her legs, cupping roughly at her mound before his digits spread through the slickness of her folds. Her hips buck, chasing his touch until he swats between her legs, causing her to yelp, the sensation sending waves of warmth throughout her lower belly.

“Don’t be greedy,” he hisses, pulling away to unfasten his trousers and push down his breeches, freeing his erection. He runs his hand up and down the length of it, eyeing her with an animalistic hunger, the slightest of smirks tugging at his lips as she instinctively parts her legs wider for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing forcefully inside, pushing apart her inner walls and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“Fucking take it!” He spits out, wrapping a hand around her throat, while the other grasps her hip, tugging her violently against him to meet each of his hard thrusts.

She is struck by the imbalance of power; she is bare beneath him, utterly vulnerable, while Daemon remains not just fully clothed, but clad in armour, free to do as he pleases to her. She clenches at the idea, causing him to grunt.

“Such a slut,” he pants, the smack of his thighs against hers becoming more insistent as he quickens his pace, his fingers applying more pressure to the sides of her throat.

She feels lightheaded, the only thing that seems as though it is stopping her from floating away entirely are the harsh, sharp thrusts that meet the end of her, causing her to wail, tears forming in her eyes, before trickling down her cheeks.

As Daemon’s hips begins to falter in their movements, the hand grasping her hip snakes between their bodies, his fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to lick at her lower spine. He presses down more firmly, making faster, tighter movements against her bud and she jolts, sudden warmth crashing over her in waves as she cries out, tightening around him.

With a groan, he stills, leaning over her, pulsating as he spills deep inside of her. For a few moments he does not move, simply hovering over her, careful not to crush her with the weight of his armour.

She feels boneless, weightless, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and drift into a peaceful, satisfied sleep. But that is not what Daemon has in mind.

As his breathing slows, he lifts himself to look at her, tenderly gripping her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her face towards him so that he can take in the sight of her tear stained cheeks, glassy eyes, and parted lips. The softness is a dissonant juxtaposition from the brutality he displayed just moments ago.

For the first time that evening, his lips find hers and he kisses her, slowly and sensually. She sighs happily into it, enjoying his closeness.

“Thank you”, he murmurs when he eventually pulls away. “Allow me to remove my armour and I will have another bath drawn. This evening we shall bathe together.”

As inviting as sleep seems at this moment, she knows that the offer from her husband is far more appealing.

[bl4ckph0enix]

A Discord server dedicated to British actor Matt Smith and all his roles.

Matt's den of sins

If you love Matt just as much as we do, this server might be the place for you. It is an open and welcoming space for all.

We're just a bunch of crazy people and would be very happy to welcome you!

[ethereallocs]

Another vampire Au?

But who? Aemond, Aegon, or Daemon?

Any suggestions….? 👀

[vhsmitchell]

no because what does he need such a slutty lil waist for?? me to hold??

[elegantsplendour]

Love Is A Downfall

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3? | Epilogue

Summary:

One girl, two dragons.

Bound to one, attached to an another.

Love is the most powerful form of magic.

Love is the fuel that leads to destruction.

Fear leads of anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Pairing 💕 : Aemond Targaryen x !Redwyne reader x Aegon II Targaryen

Warnings / contains in this part: smut, fluff, 3some, some violence and gore, slight angst, green biased pov.

Word count: 5k

Ps: Would love to see your comments 💗

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @aemondx @theroyaldixon @heavenly1927

Other friends: @purple-writer8 @boundlessfantasy @qyburnsghost @lovelykhaleesiii @snh96 @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee @chompchompluke @godrakin  ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶　　　　　　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

“Tell me what you see, Aemond,” she gasped for air as another deep and hard thrust drove her closer to the brink of ecstasy, “I want to hear it.”

Aemond chuckled, squeezing her backside possessively before whispering in her ears, “I see your body, flushed and glistening with sweat," he began, his hot breath teasing her, “Your back arched, offering yourself to me.”

He left a delicious mark on the fragile skin of her neck, “I see the curve of your hips, the smoothness of your skin. Your beautiful bottom bouncing on my cock as I slam into you, claiming you as mine, again and again.”

Aemond grasped a strand of her silky hair gently as she whimpered tantalizingly, “I love you.”

Just he was about to lean down and kiss her, his brother’s voice, filled with amusement, echoed the room, “How adorable. She’s never told me that even I am her husband to be.”

Aemond growled in frustration at the interruption while the little figure under him giggled, “Shut up, Aeg. You know I love you both, just in different ways.”

Aemond turned her head roughly for a feverish kiss, “I love you,” he smirked at Aegon and bit her earlobe and teased, “My Queen.”

Aegon tensed as he closed the distance between them and tilted her bouncing chin caused by his brother’s forceful pounding, “You say you love me? My lustful betrothed?”

Aegon explored her mouth with his tongue meticulously.

He loved her too, but not the way Aemond did.

“Then take me in your mouth,” Aegon commanded, petting her hair tenderly.

Aemond glared at him ferociously at the provocative grin. He had no choice but to tolerate this.

She was too kind, too caring, too selfless, too innocent, well not exactly, to refuse either of them.

Aemond often cursed the gods for gifting Aegon such a soul.

Her mother, Erya Redwyne, childhood friend of Queen Alicent, brought her into the world the same day Aegon was born at the cost of her own life.

As the joyous cries of the two infants echoed through the Red Keep like a hopeful symphony, their fate was sealed.

Queen Alicent often jested about how Aegon used to steal her favorite toys in the nursery, causing the angelic young girl to cry.

Yet over the years, of all the responsibilities Aegon failed in, she remained the only exception.

Aemond could remember one instant after Aegon’s cruel taunts on his bastard nephews and him, his demeanor immediately changed as he welcomed her on piggyback.

Seven Years Ago

“You are so cruel! Let me down, Aegon!!” She protested yet her giggles pleaded otherwise.

“Why? I think I enjoy tormenting a young lady like you than my stoic brother,” Aegon grinned, his hands steadily on her calves while swirling her wildly.

Jace and Luke laughed while Aemond watched, a bizarre sensation burning in his stomach.

She seemed to have sensed his gaze and jumped off of Aegon without warning.

Aemond’s eyes widened as she, a head taller than him at the time, enclosed him in a tight embrace, “Your brother had been cruel to you again, hasn’t he? My sweet Aemond?” She leaned down and squeezed his cheeks, leaving the older brother whine in annoyance, “You could’ve fallen on the sharp stones and leave an ugly scar on your legs,” Aegon narrowed his eyes at the sight of his girl comforting his brother, “And your future lord husband will close his eyes while he beds you.”

She looked at Aegon unbelievably with hurt, anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s go,” she took the young prince’s small hands and left the training yard.

Aemond slightly raised his head and caught glimpse of diamond like drops forming in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

And he knew why. The last time she cried, Aegon had called her an insolent ladybug.

Aemond, although young and small, spoke courteously, hoping to ease her sadness, “My lady, you are beautiful. Your grace far surpasses the mere allure of your physical beauty. You have a kind, and compassionate heart,” he swallowed, trying to look her in the eyes but failed as he returned his gaze on the ground, “I am thankful to have you in my life. Your future lord husband, no matter who he might be,” Aemond’s voice caught in his throat, he knew who she would eventually belong to, “Would be lucky to have you.”

But what he truly meant was, “I wish to have you as Aegon does.”

Surely, Aemond didn’t know what his wish signified. Until Driftmark. Or better. Until he found them pleasuring each other in his brother’s chamber.

But that was another story.

Aemond groaned as his felt his release approached. He bent down, squeezing her breasts, and whispered, “You ok, love? I am going to spill into you.”

Her nods were barely recognizable as Aegon buried her head mercilessly towards his hardened cock.

Aemond wanted to murder him.

If not for his gesture of tenderness.

Aegon slowed his pace and stroke her hair softly, looking at her for assurance.

She blinked at Aegon with mischief.

Of course, that, Aemond didn’t see.

After a deliciously short moment filled with moans, growls and screams of pleasure, they collapsed on the bed.

Aemond didn’t wait for an instant to envelop her in his arms before Aegon had the chance.

He pressed a kiss on her crown, murmuring sweet nothings to her ears, and caressed the deep and permanent scar on her left thigh over and over again.

Six Years Ago

“You really think that I should?” Aemond asked hesitantly.

“Of course you should!” She furrowed her brows, “A dragon is not property, not a heirloom to be passed on!”

Aemond lowered his head and smiled. Nothing could have made him stronger than to have her by his side.

Though, as the sea wind washed over their faces, she squeezed his hand anxiously, “But, I am scared if… if anything happens. You know, the dragons are-”

“Unpredictable,” Aemond nodded, “Even Targaryens may not be exceptions from their wrath.”

He reached out his hand and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ears, exposing her delicate features in all its beauty.

He had grown taller.

Almost as tall as her.

He noticed, secretly smirking in his mind.

“I’ll be there with you,” she declared.

Sensing his widened eyes and worries, she sealed his unspoken words with her finger, “And don’t you tell me what you to do! Little Aemond!”

Aemond breathed in annoyance as he rolled his eyes.

One day, he will be her equal.

He will be the fiercest warrior, a Targaryen that people sing ballads about for centuries, the best dragon rider of his generation, if not of any generation.

He will become her protector.

“Stay here!” He ordered under the dimly moonlight lit beach. It was the first time he spoke to her with such authority.

It felt good, Aemond admitted it, not the control he exercised on her, but the fact that he knew that he was protecting her from harm.

“Aem,” she reached out his arm desperately before letting go, “Be careful. I’ll come to you if anything happens.”

Aemond stood stunned momentarily. He cupped her cheeks and promised full of conviction, “I will come back just fine. More than fine. I will become the rider of the largest dragon in the world. You will be the first one I rider her with. We’ll fly across the Narrow Sea, visit Pentos, Bravoos, Lys. We will be the rulers of the sky.”

She smiled faintly and leaned into his touch, “I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

She watched his distancing figure with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

Aemond desired more than what he was handed to him.

He will never be satisfied.

He would not himself without his thirst for the world.

She loved him, though she didn’t fully understand what that word meant. It was different from what she felt for Aegon.

But she was sure of it, no matter what, she would follow him.

For what seemed like an eternity for her,

Aemond’s cries of raw excitement, exhilaration, and rush of adrenaline flowing his veins mixed with her cheers of pure pride and joy.

The green beast left out an equally ferocious roar, as if she shared his rider’s overwhelming emotions.

As the two rushed back into the castle, sand and joy written over their faces, they were fretted with five accusing figures, demanding for justice, she had anticipated. But she was wrong. They demanded for blood.

“It’s them!” The younger sister pointed at Aemond.

“It’s me,” Aemond held her hands confidently. He was no longer the dragonless spare, the little boy who needed her protection.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon,” Rhaena protested.

Before the girl beside him could retort, Aemond spat back, “Your mother’s dead and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim,” the younger sister clenched her fists.

Perhaps it was the allure of his newly claimed power, or it was truly his true nature emerging, Aemond tilted his head provocatively, “Then you should’ve claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.”

Her tangled hands stretched his arms, her eyes stared at him with disbelief, “Aem, don’t say that,” she whispered urgently.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he recognized the look on her face. It was the same one when his brother made that cruel jest.

They stared at each other for a short moment, forgetting the rival tension rising in the air.

The confused peace was brutally shattered as Rhaena’s punch landed on Aemond’s nose.

Caught off guard fleetingly, Aemond’s fury unleashed itself as another punch from Baela Targaryen on her.

With a burst of strength, he pushed the two sisters on the cold ground and tugged her into his arms, “Come at her again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!”

The next blow came from Jace, jumping on him with a rain of strikes, followed by Luke and the two sisters.

Yet she didn’t hold back. Aemond had never witnessed this side of her. Being slightly older than the Targaryen-Velaryon sisters, she held a slight advantage as she grabbed Baela’s hair violently and threw her on the floor.

Rhaena soon came to help of her sister, the three of them engaged in a savage dance of violence.

There was a fire in her that was unleashed, untamed and primal.

“You cowards!” She seethed while pinning Rhaena on the ground, “A dragon is not a slave. The dragon chooses its rider and she chose Aemond! Get your empty heads over it.”

Aemond, fueled by her words, twisted Jace’s fist directed at him toward towards his own chest with a taunting smirk, making him cry out in pain before kicking him on the ground.

With a swift move, he seized Luke’s neck and a rock in his hand.

“You will die screaming just like your father did,” Aemond sneered, “Bastards.”

“My father is still alive!” The small boy gasped for air.

“He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong?”Aemond chuckled, glaring at Jace, then at her, like a lion conquering a new terrain, declaring its victory and superiority, not only to instill fear into its opposing beasts, but also to impress the lioness.

As Aemond embraced the rush of victory and lowered down the rock, a shining dagger rose of Jace’s hand went unnoticed.

“Aem- Watch out!” She shrieked, capturing Jace’s hand with all her strength.

Everything blurred in Aemond’s eyes as his nephew growled and cut deep her thighs, a stream of blood bursting out of her flesh.

He rushed to her side and tried to cover the blood loss, but it was no use. The wound was too deep and in a critical place. She looked up at him in confusion and fear, her teeth trembled at the shade of deep red.

“You will pay for this!” He gritted his teeth, reseizing the rock before shoved Jace viciously on the floor.

Baela and Rhaena, shocked by the unseen rage of their cousin, stepped back.

“Aemond, we’ve won! Step down now!” She cried, her face mingling with tears of fear and blood from her open wound.

His gaze softened, hand lowering down the weapon.

He wished to carry her into his arms to the maesters.

How fate had an ironic twist.

Everything went scarlet and black as the ravaging pain cut through his left eye.

Aemond curled into a ball on the floor. His shrieks of pain mingling with her screams of horror tormented him like a giant bell ringing ringing in his head.

She jumped on his nephew, “You little rat! I will kill you!”

He heard Luke’s screams of help, Jace’s and her growls as they wrestled on the ground, trashing and pummeling each other.

Seconds slipped away, Aemond could do nothing but grapple in agony.

His lost eye continued to flow streams of blood while the other was forced to watch Jacaerys’ training in swordsmanship overpowering her advantage in height, her being chocked helplessly on the cold ground.

Their gaze locked.

She looked at him with despair.

Sorry. Her eyes told him. I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you.

In that l moment, a solemn vow crystallized within him - he pledged to do whatever it took to shield them both from ever enduring such depths of despair again. He would seize the future in his hands, defying even the gods if need be, to bestow upon her nothing but hope and joy.

The next thing he remembered was Ser Harrold Westerling dragging Jace from delivering another slap on her face.

Her thigh continued to ooze a ghastly flow of unstemmed blood.

She lost her conscience as the knight pulled Aemond from the ground.

With every fiber of his being aflame, he unleashed a torrent of hysterical screams, as though his desperate calls possessed the power to wrench her from the clutches of the Stranger, to defy the realms of the departed, and reunite her with the realm of the living, with him.

Both of them were brought to the maesters. Aemond’s teeth sank into each other, his fingers digging into his flesh at the piercing pain as the maester retreated his broken eye and wove his scar.

And she was there, lying peacefully as if she had fallen into a slumber, unaware of the healer’s hands on her flesh.

“It would heal, will it not, maester?” Alicent’s trembled as she asked.

Reminded by his mother, Aegon demanded with equal urgency at the maester treating the flesh of her thighs, “It will heal. Right?”

“The lady has lost considerable amount of blood, my prince.

The older prince felt hot tears swollen with hot tears.

He gently caressed her cheeks.

She was his responsibility and he failed her.

“The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

“The flesh will heal, but the scar is permanent, my prince.”

Aemond watched his mother striking his brother on the face, “Where were you?”

“This,” Alicent spat furiously, “Is nothing compared to the abuse your brother and betrothed suffered when you were drowning in your cups, you fool!”

Aegon bit his lips, turning his head from his mother as he forced his tears back.

Alicent was right. He had indulged himself again, yet it was because his betrothed distanced herself from him ever since that jest in the training yard. He was such a coward, Aegon cursed himself, why couldn’t he just apologize?

If he had excused himself, he wouldn’t have been drown in cups, he would’ve been by her side, she wouldn’t have laid unconscious, Aemond wouldn’t have lost his eye.

The rest of that fateful night concluded in accusations and turmoils.

The agony of the sight of her fragile form and his wound prevented from memorizing everything about that fateful night of accusations and turmoils, but there was one thing etched into his memories.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves,” Rhaenyra pushed her children behind her, “Vile insults were levied against them. The legitimacy of my sons’ birth has been put into question. This is the highest of treason, Your Grace. Prince Aemond and Lady Redwyne must be sharped questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent shook her head in disbelief, “My son has lost and eye!” She pointed her finger at the girl in slumber, “And she! She is Erya’s daughter!” Alicent exclaimed, “You would torture Erya’s daughter?!”

Silence was the princess’ answer. It was obvious that the queen’s attempt at recalling the memory of their deceased best friend was at no avail.

“You won’t touch her!” Aegon stood before her, his violet eyes blazing with an unprecedented fire.

“No one is to be tortured, boy,” the old king glanced at his eldest son and approached Aemond, “You tell me. Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aemond faced the broken old man he had been forced to call father and king head on. He looked at Alicent, then at Rhaenyra, Daemon,

Aegon, then, at her.

“It was Aegon,” he said.

“Me?”

“And you! Boy! Where did you hear such slanders?”

Aegon took a deep breath, averting his gaze on the floor, seeking to appear as clueless as possible, “Everybody knows, father. Just… Look at them.”

As the room fell into a haunting silence, Aemond and Aegon exchanged a look.

They hadn’t wanted to be a part of this fight, but their half-sister had forced their hand.

She had just threatened their everything, her.

Now, they would play ruthlessly together.

Present day

“Aem,” she purred, nestling in his chest.

Chuckling, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her with utmost adoration. She slowly rolled herself on top of him, her soft breast lied flat on his stomach and her ears pressed against his racing heart.

“Can I hold you?”

After gods know much time, Aegon asked with a hint of longing and jealousy.

She twinkled, sneaking a peck on Aemond’s cheek before accepting Aegon’s invitation.

Even tugged in Aegon’s embrace, she gazed back at Aemond with uncertainty.

With a mild smile and nod, she giggled and wrapped her arms around her betrothed with any reservation.

Did Aemond mind sharing her with his brother, the soon king to be?

The fuck yes.

Yet the One-Eyed Prince would do anything for the future queen of Seven Kingdoms.

The story how Rhaenyra gave up her claim on the Iron Throne was one both brothers, especially Aegon, was proud of.

It didn’t take much other than hiring a few pirates across the Narrow Sea to kidnap the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince’s first born son to force her hand.

And…

A few more drops of herbs in the milk of poppy their father consumed daily, and an edict composed of, or deadly similar to, King Viserys’ handwriting.

Aemond kept watching the sight before him. Her fingers trailed on his brother’s chest. She leaned in to murmur something audible only to Aegon, who smirked and captured her lips into a passionate kiss before hovering her pliant body under him.

He diverted his gaze.

Seven Moons Ago

The first time he had seen them in such intimacy was on his seventeenth name day. The prince refused to display it, but butterflies burnt in his stomach as he replayed the anticipating whispers of her promises of an unforgettable gift. Curiosity reigned his mind as he strolled the Red Keep to the library, a sanctuary he would most likely to find her in.

Yet the spectacle before him made his world crumble down.

She looked like an exquisite doll at his brother’s mercy, his one hand exploring her forbidden forest while the other massaging her soft breast.

“Aeg, please,” she whimpered, grinding her core to the magic of his hand.

“Please what, my little betrothed,” Aegon whispered seductively while trailing a series of kisses down her neck, “For me not to stop? Squeeze your breasts harder? Or spank you over my knees for being such a lustful maiden? You’ll have to be specific.”

“All. Everything, please,” she arched her back, offering herself to him, exposing her neck while letting head fall backwards.

And that’s how she caught glimpse of Aemond.

“Aemond!”

She screamed. Her face flushed. Guilt and apology all over her features.

“It��� it isn’t what it looks like.”

Aegon chortled at his brother’s murdering look, “Calm down, Aemond. It’s my duty to satisfy my betrothed’s unfulfilled desires in-“ he taunted, “Ways that violate the codes of propriety the least.”

Aemond breathed, his nostrils observably widened with fury, “Indeed, I will leave you to it,” he returned his gaze to her, his tone grave and devoid of emotions, “Enjoy yourself, my lady.”

Storming off from the library, Aemond felt disgusting liquids forming in his good eye while an excruciating ache formed in his sapphire eye where his lost eye used to be.

Urgent footsteps and her calling echoing behind him only urged him to stroll faster.

“Aemond! Please, let me explain!” She pressed her hand on his closing door desperately.

He didn’t respond. She was Aegon’s betrothed, destined to be his the moment she stepped into the world . He had only been a foolish, jealous and pathetic little boy hoping one day she could love him. However, despite every fiber of his being telling him that she had nothing to apologize for, he couldn’t help but to feel betrayed.

It was his name day, yet it felt like the most precious thing in his life had been ripped away from his heart.

“I am sorry,” her lips trembled.

“Why?” He tilted her chin, making her look him straight in the eye. He longed for her answer. He thirsted for the truth. Behind his commanding voice, Aemond Targaryen’s heart begged her to give him the very answer he craved, even if it knew it was wrong.

“I…” she opened her mouth, trying to find the right words.

“Tell me,” he stepped closer, “Is it because you know that my heart races every time I find you in proximity? That I have to force myself to divert my gaze every time Aegon has you in his arms? That every second of my life had been an excruciating torment, always desiring things and people that I can never have?”

Her eyes opened wide with shock and dilemma. She reached her hand to touch his cheek, “Some of it, perhaps,” she answered, her voice barely than s whisper, “But above all, because, because…”

He was convinced she bit her tongue out of nervousness.

“Because what?” Aemond demanded, his grip on her shoulders almost inciting pain.

“Because I love you.”

“What?” His voice almost a growl.

“I love you. I. Love. You,” she declared, tears swelling in her eyes, “I’ve always loved you.”

“And do you love him?” He shut the door abruptly, saving them both from the prying eyes, before cornering her on the wall like an wolf ready to devour a sheep.

Biting her lips, she spoke again, “I do.”

She grabbed his hand as if she was scared that he would walk away, “But you don’t understand, Aemond. He… he’s been with me since I was born. We cried together, mumbled our first words to each other. Aegon,” she hardened her resolve, “He is a part of me.”

To her surprise, Aemond pressed his forehead on hers, their lips only inches apart, “Do you love him like you love me? As much as you love me?”

A profound silence enveloped them.

“No.”

It was all it took for Aemond to crash on her lips.

Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies like like two starving migrants caught sight of honey on another.

As they gasped for breath, she slowly slipped her gown off and pressed her flesh against him, “I had a present for you, my prince. But I think you would prefer this gift.”

The prince’s movement froze at her offer.

It was too unreal. Too wrong yet too tempting.

“Has he?”

She understood the question and shook her head.

“Are you sure? Once we go down this path, there is no going back,” Aemond held the back of her neck tenderly, his one eye searching for any sign of hesitation.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life than right now, with you.”

“I’ve never had more faith in anyone, at any moment, than I do to you, right now. Go, Aemond Targaryen. Claim her. I know you can.”

The bittersweet flashback at Driftmark, when he was still whole, was all he needed for assurance.

She wrapped her arms around Aemond’s lean yet muscular shoulders as he carried her to the bed.

“I want to see you, all of you.”

With Aemond’s hands quivered, she took the initiative and slowly removed the barrier between them.

“I love you,” she murmured as she kissed the scar that lined the prince’s sapphire eye.

Aemond smirked as he traced his kisses in an agonizing pace to the centre of her core, “Let me show you how much I love you, my queen.”

She moaned at the title that she was soon to bear, a shameful yet arousing reminder of the betrayal against her betrothed, the man with whom she came to this world together.

Aemond took time particularly at the scar on her left thigh, savouring every imperfection with his tongue.

“Aem! Watch out!”

The image of Jacaerys’ blade cutting sliced through her perfect skin still gnawed his spirit.

“I should’ve killed him for what he did to you,” Aemond kissed her flesh possessively.

A light chuckle came from her mouth, “And now, you can. Aemond Targaryen,” she stretched out her fingers and teased the prince’s rarely messy hair, “But he is not worth our time.”

Her words were cut off by a loud moan as Aemond inserted a finger inside her while pressing his thumb on her pearl.

“Is that how he touched you?” He groaned, “Does he make you feel like this?” Aemond grinned before using one hand to to make her straddle him, the other squeezing her round bottom, eliciting another moan from her lips.

“Not like you do, Aem,” she kissed him hungrily, eagerly grinding and teasing his hardened length, “Take me now. I am ready. Just,” she swallowed, “Be gentle.“

“Hmm,” he kissed along her collarbones, “I’ve never been good at gentle, but I’ll do my best for you. Always,” he pressed another kiss on her cheek, “I’ll do anything for you.”

With that, Aemond gently lifted her hips, allowing her to adjust to his length at her own rhythm.

Taking him fully, he sensed her body wince at the discomfort, her nails plunging into the flesh of his shoulders, her head buried behind his back.

“We can stop, love,” the prince wiped away a tear from her cheek caused by the pain.

“No,” she smiled, the trace of liquid still apparent on her skin, “I want you, I am sure of it.”

The two of them moved delicately, melting the unspoken and forbidden tension built between them like snow under the sun.

The initial winces of pain transformed quickly into soft whimpers of pleasure and light giggles.

“Do I bring you pleasure, love?” His voice laced with tenderness, “For your pleasure is my utmost desire.”

She laughed softly and met his stroke eagerly, “What do you think, my sweet Aemond?”

She then started leaving kisses on the top of his head, his hair, messing his silver lock with an insatiable appetite.

“My Queen,” he groaned, “I’m close.”

With a smirk, she took control and pinned his hands above his head, “Me too, my sweet prince.”

Although Aemond One-Eye rejoiced his Queen’s vigor, the blood of the dragon runs hotter than the blood of Redwyne.

He flipped over roughly on her back and replunged himself inside her.

“Gods, Aem,” she whined, “Fuck me like the dragon you are.”

Aemond’s breath hitched, his laughter filled the room, “I will fuck you until you forget your own name, my precious,” he whispered in her ears before slamming his hips into hers with all his might.

As the sinful slapping and screams of pleasure transformed the room into a sanctuary isolated from the rest of the world, the two collapsed on one another.

“Moon tea, then?” She asked softly.

“Moon tea,” he nodded, “for now.”

They stayed entangled in each other for quite a while. Thoughts swarmed through his mind like a hive of bees.

He took her maidenhead.

He, Aemond Targaryen, took her maidenhead.

She, Aegon’s promised, loved him.

She loved them both.

How could this story conclude happily?

Aemond forced out the few dark possibilities that crossed over his mind.

At least, he couldn’t possibly do that to her.

She seemed to have sensed his worries and kissed his forehead, “I’ll find a way, I promise.”

That’s how the three ended up here.

A week after their first passionate encounter, they found themselves giving into their desires again in the secrecy of Aemond’s chamber.

This time, Aegon burst in with a smug face.

“Mind if I join you?”

Aemond’s throat burnt with rage and embarrassment, “Get out.”

The older brother shrugged and did the opposite, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ears, “We tell each other everything, Aemond. I’ve known that she loved you for quite a while now.”

Do you know that she loves me more?

He wanted to throw that question onto his brother’s face, but he didn’t, for her sake.

Seeing Aemond’s clenching fists, Aegon moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck, “I would do anything for her. I wouldn’t let her lose anything or anyone she loves, wouldn’t you, brother?”

She slowly reached Aemond’s hand hesitantly, “Are you mad at me, Aem?”

“No,” he cupped her cheeks, “Never at you, love.

Two sides fought brutally in the battlefield of Aemond Targaryen’s head.

One side lured him to rip off his brother’s head off.

The other side urged him to accept offer.

He chose the second option.

Present day

The inky night enveloped the sky at the hour of the Wolf.

The two brothers turned over and found the space between them empty.

She stood in solitude under the moon, her hair cascading down, her body enrobed by nothing but an almost transparent night gown.

A goddess.

They both thought.

“What are your thinking about, love?” Aegon left a feather light kiss on her neck.

She smiled and turned around to face them, “It’s a fortnight until the wedding and coronation.”

Aemond’s figure tensed.

“So many things are about to change. So many new responsibilities,” she sighed, drifting her gaze to the centre of King’s Landing, where undercurrents surges even in the darkest of nights.

“This,” she lowered her head, “Can’t continue. At least, not like this.”

Aemond’s heartbeat raced at her declaration.

She couldn’t abandon him.

She couldn’t.

Her chuckle slightly released his tension as she leaned into his chest.

“What she means is that we can’t lay together anymore,” Aegon clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice, “Relax yourself, brother. She’d never let you go.”

Aemond smiled faintly as he carried her back to bed. They were right. Although the moon tea had served as a temporary solution for their indiscretion, its effectiveness had been limited. Once a child was conceived under the scandalous circumstances, it would be impossible to know who the father was.

She grinned softly before drifting to sleep, “You are both going to be fathers. So get rid of your childishness, especially you, Aeg.”

As two of them fell into a delicious slumber, Aemond stared at the ceiling alone, contemplating the possibilities of the future.

It seemed like everything was falling into place.

Rhaenyra’s claim destroyed.

Aegon finally starting to take interests in his responsibilities.

Her declaring that she loved him, even more than his brother.

Them finding a way for their love to co-exist.

Despite all the signs of peace, Aemond couldn’t help but to have a lingering impression that it was the calm before the storm.

Author’s note: Team Aem or team aeg? Lemme know your thoughts.😚

Whispering, hinting: enjoy part 1 while you can ;) 🥺

[duchess-of-oldtown]

Me, watching all the girlies fight over whether Team Black or Team Green is more morally righteous, just wanting more time with my favourite noodle boi:

[targaryen-dynasty]

HEAVY IS THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle and niece), kinda non/dub con, p in v, semi public sex, doggy style, degrading, slapping, possessiveness, jealousy

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: This is something I had written and posted on another blog when I (rightfully so) didn't feel accepted and wanted in fandom. So, if any of you remembers this, it was written by me. This is Lingo Jam High Valyrian (it is what it is).

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

It’s way past the Hour of the Owl as you stand in the Throne Room all by yourself, all the tables for the guests of your coronation feast having already been cleared and stored away by the keep’s staff, leaving the room to be eerily quiet and empty. 

You stand in front of the intimidating Iron Throne, looming in the dim light of the candles around you, your fingertips barely brushing the sharp swords that were used to forge it by your ancestors, reminiscing about all the times you’ve seen your father sitting on it. 

Unlike your grandsire and father before you, you chose to wear the Conqueror's Crown and wield his sword, the big, square-cut rubies complimenting the red and gold gown you wear. 

The heavy doors leading to the intimidating chambers open behind you, but you don’t turn around, knowing all too well who intrudes the silence and serenity. His footsteps are heavy, bouncing off the thick columns and walls on his way. 

“Skoros iksis ziry ao jeldan naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke nūmāzma?” you ask, but before you’re able to turn around, the weight of your husband’s chest against your back pushes you forward, the ostentatious crown on your head toppling to the ground at the impact. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?

Both your hands immediately seize the armrests of the Iron Throne for support, more so when Daemon’s hand falls to the place between your shoulders to keep you exactly like you are, bowed forward with no chance to move. 

“Hm,” he hums, applying just a bit of pressure to your back. “How about the wanton farce you put up for that cunt of a Lannister?” he growls, and it’s clear it is not a question but an accusation. 

There is not one breath wasted when he rucks up the skirts of your gown and bunches it around your waist, fisting it with one of his large paws. The matter clearly is serious, and has occupied him for quite some time now, considering he prefers to answer you in the Common Tongue rather than High Valyrian. 

But it’s not like you have much time to really process the meaning behind it, considering he has the skirt of your dress in his hand in one moment, and your small clothes pulled down to your knees in the next. Your cunt is exposed to the chilly air of the Red Keep, and to anyone that chooses to intrude on such an intimate and disgraceful scene, and much to your husband’s surprise, you’re soaked with anticipation, which earns you a condescending scoff from him. 

He has quickly figured that there isn't going to come any reply from you, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the little predicament you’ve found yourself in, and forces a gasp from your lips as his hand not-so-gently collides with your bare rear. 

Your body slightly lulls forwards to escape the stinging pain that blooms on your skin, but to now avail. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you press with despair audible in your voice. 

But he just scoffs again. “Oh, I’m certain you don’t,” his voice is sharp, and the words underlined by another slap to your arse. “Need I remind Your Grace who they belong to?” The title is spoken in a way to make a mock display of his courtesy, displaying how little care he holds over your status at this moment.

You’re not quite sure what he is up to when you feel and hear him shifting and fumbling behind you, although you have a mild guess, until you feel the tip of his hard cock pressing against your soaked cunt. He pushes in even before you can answer, any words or pathetic protests dying on your tongue and replaced by a moan. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says more to himself, his tone suddenly taking on an air of smugness. His words are followed by a groan that flows into a heedless sigh as he bottoms out completely, his heavy stones pressing against your pearl. 

It’s a side to Daemon you haven’t seen or experienced before, despite growing up around him, his several liaisons and wives. There has never been something akin to jealousy coursing through his veins before. Yes, Daemon has always been a little too rough, too impatient and resolving matters by force rather than diplomacy, but you’ve never seen his blood run this hot. 

His upper body slightly bends forward and towers over yours as he rests one hand on the backrest of the Throne, the other still on your hip with your skirts tightly secured.

“What–” the words catch in your throat, replaced by a whimper. “What if anyone sees us?” 

“Jaelan zirȳ naejot ūndegon,” he growls. “Jaelan zirȳ naejot gīmigon bona iksā ñuhon.” I want them to see. I want them to know that you’re mine. 

The whine you release at that is nothing short of desperate. While the thought of anyone catching you two frightens you to the core, you enjoy the possessive side of him, reveling in his desire just for you since you’ve shared it most of your life with your younger sister. 

Pulling out of you almost completely, the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains buried inside of you. While the feeling of the sudden loss makes you whine and push your hips back to force him inside again, it also earns you another harsh slap that’s served to your arse. 

“Ao sagon ñuhon se mazemā skoros nyke tepagon ao, iksis bona shifang?” You're mine and you take what I give you, is that understood?

Daemon then slams his hips into yours as a warning, filling you up in a swift thrust that has you gasping, and knocks the air straight from your lungs. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon nyke ivestragon ziry arlī,” he snarls. “Gaomagon. Ao. Shifang?” Each word is punctuated with a harsh snap of his hips.  Don’t make me say it again. Do. You. Understand?

“K… kessa,” you hiccup. Yes. 

The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip on your hip to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls of the Throne Room.

His stones are heavy and the fleshy pouch they sit in slightly sagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he fills you to the brim, and sending shivers to the soles of your feet. 

Daemon forces your hips higher until you’re standing on your tiptoes for him, your body barely supported by his fingers digging into your hip. The angle changes with that, allowing him to shove his cock into you even deeper than before – a change that has him groaning and grunting over and over again. 

Your eyes lull into the back of your head, and the heat in your belly doesn’t diminish, causing a renewed wave of arousal to leak out of your core. 

Not caring if the skirts of your gown are riding down again, he grips the back of your neck firmly enough so you can’t turn your head, fucking you as if his life depends on it and knocking every breath clean out of your lungs. 

Daemon forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against the Iron Throne with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process. 

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs to tremble, his hand that rests on the Iron Throne coming down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease. 

“Qilōni gaomagon ao sytilībagon naejot?” Daemon groans, pulling you back onto his cock and fucking you through your peak. Who do you belong to? It’s almost as if he’s asking for your reassurance, wanting to be sure of your feelings for him. 

“A… ao,” you hiccup. “Ik… iksan aōhon.” You. I’m yours.

His peak crashes over him with your reassurance, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your cunt. His hands trail up and down your sides in nothing else than pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if the pressure has fallen off his shoulders. 

He cups your arse with both hands, and squeezes your flesh. When he doesn’t make any move to pull out of you, however, it’s clear that he is relishing the way your drenched cunt embraces his flaccid cock.

“No one will make you feel as good as I do, dōna ābrazȳrys, and certainly no Lannister,” he rasps. “He would not know how to handle the Blood of the Dragon. You were made for me, and you belong to me. Always have, always will.” Sweet wife. 

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

[happilyhertale]

Shared future – Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: As on so many other nights, your betrothed Daemon sneaks into your chambers. But tonight he has other plans for you.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Oral (f receiving); Fingering

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.6 k

Shared future Masterlist

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

As the last candlelight fades, you retreat into the cosy embrace of your bed, snuggled up in the warmth of your blanket. Listening to the muffled sounds of the night, you wait patiently for the inevitable. Quickly and quietly, the hidden door in the wall of your chambers swings open, an enchanting routine that unfolds with each passing night. Your gaze turns to the entrance, a smile curling your lips as a figure with silvered hair slips gracefully into the room.

A slight bite on your lip betrays your anticipation, and your grin widens as your betrothed approaches. He removes his waistcoat and trousers and lies down in bed with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms. The gentle press of his lips against your hair, soft kisses and the familiar rumble emanating from his chest create an intimate atmosphere that you never dreamed possible with your future husband.

His fingers run over your form with a delicate touch, caressing the soft expanse of your skin. To the outside world, the rogue prince may appear to be a figure without such tenderness. But inside your chambers, a transformation is taking place – he longs to give you tenderness. And he has mastered the art of cuddling and caressing to perfection – and he honours your wish to defer the surrender of your maidenhead for the time being.

But that doesn't mean he keeps his fingers still. Daemon has already driven you to ecstasy countless times and pushed you to the limit. He has made you squirm and whimper and awakened a desire in you that makes you crave more and more.

His fingers slide southwards, but somehow it feels different this time. His fingers seem greedier and there's another slight grumble in his chest as he gently kneads your bum. "Love... come on, sit on my face," he suddenly murmurs into your neck as gentle kisses caress your skin. And never before has the blush rushed to your face so quickly.

"What...?" you mumble a little incredulously and feel a grin forming on his lips.

"Sit on my face..." he repeats, gripping your bum a little tighter.

"I-I heard you..." you whisper, "but... your face?". The familiar warmth in your lower abdomen spreads despite your irritation as memories of the wonders Daemon can perform with his tongue come to your mind.

A slight growl sounds again and vibrates in his chest, "I expect my future wife to take a seat on my face with her elegant arse... so that I can enjoy her to the full," he murmurs.

You're lost for words – not even a "what" leaves your lips. And as the silence spreads throughout your chambers, Daemon slowly pulls his head back and turns his gaze towards you. His purple eyes meet yours and he simply grins, enjoying the fact that you are at a loss for an answer. His princess, who is never at a loss for words, is speechless.

You're breathing a little heavily, your lips are slightly parted, but you feel his hands suddenly grab your hips and make you move slightly. Your gasp fills the air of your chambers, but you follow his movement.

"Daemon..." you say quietly, but you only feel his hands gripping the back of your thighs as you sit astride him. He smiles at you, and although you usually can't get enough of his smile, you know he's happy that you're so shy right now, and you'd love nothing more than to make him suffer right now.

His big hands don't let go of your thighs and push you further up and instead of a cheeky statement, you just gasp a soft "Daemon" as your hands grab the headboard of your bed and your warm core hovers right above his face.

You bite your lip lightly and look down. His smile remains hidden from you, but you are sure that the grin has not left his lips. His hands slowly slide up the back of your thighs under your nightgown and are suddenly on your bum. He grips it firmly, making you whimper, and then you feel him pull you down. The unforgettable sensation floods through you as his tongue glides through your folds. You whimper again and your hands literally dig into the wood of your bed.

Another "Daemon" escapes your lips and breaks the silence as he begins to slide his tongue inside you. His hands push you further down, further onto his face, letting his tongue penetrate you deeper. The worry that he might not get enough air leaves your mind as his tongue glides all the way through your wet folds and the vibration of his moan literally flows through you.

You moan as his tongue caresses your bundle of nerves. He only chuckles softly as you breathe heavily and moan again. But the artistry of his tongue doesn't let up. Not even when you finally grab your nightgown and pull it over your head.

It falls to the floor beside your bed, accompanied by Daemon's grunts as you move your hips and he continues to pleasure you with his tongue. He savours the sounds of your pleasure, the way your body writhes above him as he devours you with a possessive hunger.

He buries his face deep inside your most intimate part of your body as you suddenly feel him insert two fingers inside you.

As his lips close around your sensitive bundle of nerves again and he begins to suck, your moans echo through your chambers as his fingers continue to penetrate you. Daemon's tongue dances over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to elicit another moan from your lips. He plunges deeper, his tongue swirling around inside you, soaking up every drop of your arousal.

As if of your own accord, you push your cunt further towards him, wanting – no, needing – to feel more. Daemon grunts slightly as he senses how eager you are, angles his fingers differently and rubs the rough patch deep inside you.

"You like that, don't you?" he purrs against your folds, his voice full of satisfaction. "You like it when I taste you, when I make you cum," he growls as his tongue flicks faster and harder, his hand on your hip tightening as he pushes you closer to the edge. He's determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure, to make you scream his name once more.

But you can only moan loudly and bite your lip quickly so as not to make too much noise. But Daemon is watching you closely as he savours you. Your eyes are closed and you relish all his movements and caresses. Your mouth is open, but your breathing is intermittent and a whimper that ends in a moan leaves your lips.

Daemon inserts another finger into you and you cry out a little. Your one hand slides from the headboard of your bed into his hair, gripping it tightly as his tongue circles your clit faster and his fingers thrust into you.

"Daemon... Daemon... Daemon..." escapes your lips again and again as you breathe heavily. You feel him moan again as he notices how your cunt begins to clench around his fingers. And then it comes over you – you cry out slightly again as you come. Your eyes are closed as your hips continue to move.

But this time it feels different.

"Daemon.. stop," you whimper as his lips close tightly around your pearl again, his fingers thrusting further into you.

"Daemon..." you whimper again as a strong pressure builds up inside you. But he only growls again as his fingers continue their work, sucking even harder on your clit. Your eyes open again, your breathing quickens and you realise from his gaze that he's not going to stop.

"Daemon, stop!" you gasp, trying to sound serious. But then it happens. You cry out again slightly as the pressure suddenly eases, then moan out loud.

Daemon grunts loudly, swallows all your elixir and savours how you lose yourself completely in ecstasy. When the overwhelming feeling subsides, you look down into his eyes again. Your breathing hasn't calmed down yet, your cheeks are all flushed. Daemon sucks on your pearl one last time before letting go of you. You move slightly away from his face as his lips release you. A grin plays around his lips – his lips and chin are soaked.

You bite your lips a little embarrassed, "Daemon... I-I made a mess," you whisper.

Daemon wipes his mouth with his hand and pulls you down to him in one movement, wrapping you in his arms.

"I don't want to hear that, love..." he murmurs, showering you with soft kisses.

"My wife won't apologise for the climaxes she's about to experience... I want her to enjoy the full ecstasy," he whispers.

You look at him and suddenly a warmth flows through you that has never made you feel so good. You lean your head slightly in his direction and kiss his lips, your lips meet almost greedily and move in unison.

Over the muscles of his chest and stomach, your hand glides gently to his crotch and he responds with a slight growl as you rub his hard manhood, which presses almost desperately against his undergarments.

"Love... don't start something you can't finish..." he whispers against your lips.

But your fingers continue to glide slowly along his length, "Then.. show me how to finish it," you whisper a little shyly.

Daemon hesitates, looking at you questioningly as you suddenly free yourself from his arms and move downwards, just grinning slightly. As you kneel between his legs, you pull his undergarments down. His hard member springs free and you bite your lips as you see it twitch slightly.

"Show me..." you whisper a little uncertainly and look up at him a little helplessly. But Daemon just nods slightly and guides your hand to his hard member.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @aemondsbabe

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dear author, if you are taking requests can I please get you an extremely rough and wild nsfw with jealous possessive Daemon x fem reader, where he makes her ride it into oblivion (add whatever kink you see fit) please?

Here you go, my friend. I hope this pleases you.

Warnings: Mention of injury, jealous and possessive behaviour, choking, spitting, smut. Word count: ~1100

Daemon’s mood is foul. His temper flares the moment he sees her place her favour onto the lance of that Lannister cunt. While their coupling isn’t public knowledge, she should know better than to entertain the attention of other men, lesser men.

The urge to jump the tilt and storm his way into the ladies court in order to seize her and remind her of who she belongs to is almost overwhelming. He knows he cannot though, so instead sets his sights keenly on his opponent as he sits atop his horse at the opposite end of the tiltyard. The red and gold of the Lannister caparison serves only to further his irritation. The sight of her wreath of flowers dangling from the base of the other man’s lance spurs him into action as he urges his horse to charge forward.

He notices the Lannister swing his lance slightly off target as he canters to meet him, an indication that he is experiencing difficulties and does not want to be hit. Daemon ignores this, striking him square in the breast plate with the tip of his weapon and causing him to fall from his horse with a sickening thud.

The horse master rushes towards the counter tilt. “He requested a mercy pass, Your Highness!”

Daemon lifts his helmet, watching with a smirk as the ground crew rally to help the Lannister Lord to his feet. “Did he now? How careless of me.”

He is badly winded and it is determined that his arret and grapper were not properly attached. The resulting blow from Daemon has likely broken his ribs and he will be unable to continue with the tourney.

Daemon dismounts from his horse with smug satisfaction and strides away from the tiltyard, but not before shooting her a pointed glare over his shoulder. The flicker of fearful recognition that crosses her face is all he needs to know she understands exactly what’s required of her. Don't keep me waiting.

He is stripped of his garniture and reclining in his quarters in his undershirt and breeches when he hears the timid knock at his chamber door.

“Come in.” He instructs flatly.

She enters, head bowed, a look of shy apprehension crosses her features. He feels a swell of pride at her obedience, she’d come just as soon as she could, just like he wanted. Such a shame he’s going to have to punish her for her brazen display at the tourney.

She stands before him, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, waiting for him to speak. He lets her linger in silence for a few moments, enjoying watching her squirm with discomfort. When she finally dares to look up and meet his eye he speaks.

“Have you grown tired of our arrangement?” He asks coldly.

“N-no!” She stammers, stepping forward, her eyes pleading.

He holds up a hand to stop her and she freezes in place, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to articulate what it is that she wants to say.

“Have you forgotten who it is you belong to?” His gaze is piercing as he glares at her from where he is seated.

“Of course I haven’t.” Her voice is meek and apologetic.

“Then tell me, little one, why the fuck you thought it was acceptable to give your favour to that Lannister cunt?!” His voice raises in anger as he interrogates her, his grip on the arms of the chair causing his knuckles to turn white.

Her lip trembles and for a moment he is sure she will cry, until her jaw sets in bratty defiance. “I couldn’t very well say no, could I?!” She snaps back, face hot with her own fury. “What would you have me do instead? You insist upon keeping me a secret!”

Incensed with rage he reaches forward, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist and pulling her into his lap. “Don’t you ever talk back to me, fucking brat!”

She squeals as he manhandles her to straddle him, forcing her skirts above her hips and tearing away the gusset of her smallclothes, before unlacing his breeches.

“You need a reminder of who it is you answer to.” He threatens.

His hand moves between her legs and she whimpers, bucking against him. He hums appreciatively at how slick with arousal she is already. Wanton slut.

He pulls his hand away, spitting into his palm and then spreading it through her folds and over his cock. Lining himself up with her entrance, he thrusts upwards, pulling her harshly downward with a steadying hand on her hip.

The stretch feels impossibly tight around him and he groans at the sudden warmth and wetness, delighting in the way she gasps and clutches desperately at his shoulders.

“Not so eager to answer back now you’re stuffed full of my cock, are you?” He snarls, his grip on her hip tightens, using it to aid his movements up into her. His other hand moves to wrap around her throat, squeezing at the sides. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are wide, her face reddening from the restricted blood flow as she whimpers at the brutal pace he has set.

“You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” His fingertips press deeper into the flesh of her neck.

She does her best to nod, clenching around him as he continues to drive up into her over and over.

“Say it.” He hisses, brow furrowing with exertion, stones aching at the way she convulses with each movement.

“I-I am yours.” She stutters breathlessly.

“And could that Lannister twat fuck you like this?” He punctuates his question by tugging her harder and faster against him.

“Just you, only you…” The words tumble from her lips like a chant as her eyes grow glassy.

“Don’t look away.” Daemon orders in a husky whisper.

The only sounds in the room are their combined pants and the slap of flesh on flesh, until finally the heat of his climax licks along his spine and through his balls, he pulls her flush against him as he empties himself inside of her.

She collapses against him and he holds her to his chest as he recovers, stroking his hands softly up and down her back.

“You know,” He says, after a few minutes pass by in silence, “We needn’t keep this a secret forever. I could make you my wife.”

He feels her smile against the scarred flesh of his neck. “Are you saying you love me, Daemon Targaryen?”

He chuckles, delivering a playful swat to her backside. “Don’t push your luck.”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Stranger / Masterlist

* indicates 18+ the entire series is sexually suggestive tho so like

A Stranger’s Dance (1) You have not seen Prince Aemond for many years and to his surprise and curiosity, you seem to have changed.

A Stranger’s Path (2) The morning after the night before and he still plagues your thoughts, but is it really right? Are the feelings shared?

A Stranger’s Blood (3) A moment of tension threatens to let loose all of those emotions you have for the Prince, and he for you.

A Stranger’s Tale (4) Your father, after hearing of vile accusations laid against you for scandalous behaviour, demands to be seen by the King before the court.

A Stranger’s Wish (5) *** After the ousting of Tyland Lannister, the court is finally at peace. But the tension between the prince and the lady remains.

A Stranger’s Curse (6) There was nothing that could come between your betrothal to Aemond. Was there?

A Stranger’s Virtue (7) *** Aemond pursues you through King’s Landing, intent to find you and put an end to the strife that attempted to tear you apart.

A Stranger’s Secret (8) ***  After the one night of passion, there is little to hide the connection that has blossomed between you and the one-eyed prince.

A Stranger’s Heart (9)  Someone knows the extent of your relationship with Aemond and will do anything to cause a rift between you.

A Stranger’s Hand (10)  With a broken heart and recent truths, the tourney for Helaena’s ladies finally begins.

[elissanatok]

part 4

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

wordcount: 902

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

You couldn’t help it. It had been this way ever since you were a child. Maybe even before that, maybe it was fated by the old gods. You tried so hard to forget about the warm feeling that memories still brought up in you when you thought about the past.

You could hear him giggling, a sound that now was lost forever. He would never be seven again, never sound like that again or look at you the way he used to. He had been your best friend, nothing else, and you wished so hard for it to become that way again.

The light of the almost complete full moon shone through the high window in your bedroom. It had always been your room, nobody dared to change a thing, even though the beautiful chamber had been empty for too long. It didn’t smell familiar anymore, you had realized and so had Aemond, for the hundredth time, while standing in the doorway. You did have a bad habit of not closing the door when you wished for some privacy, always feeling safe and respected in both your homes, but now it seemed like the dumbest thing you had ever done.

In his life he had visited your room more often than you did yourself, he would never say it or tell you, but it was more his than yours at this point. But than again that’s what you felt a lot throughout your life. Being more his than your own.

He stood there for a few minutes, not saying a word, not breathing too loud.

You looked pretty when you cried. Your eyes tinged red and your cheeks stained wet. The color of your lips more prominent because of the swelling. He felt captivated by the sight, but he knew that it was his fault you had shed painful tears. He cleared his throat, clenching his hands behind his back. A small gasp escaped you while your hand flew to your chest, touching the skin above your heart.

“Princess.”, he greeted- you didn´t answer. Your eyes fixed on him like a prey prepared to get his throat torn out, until they changed to the eyes of a dragon, ready for her own meal.

“Did you come here to violate me again?”’ His eyes widened. He certainly didn´t expect you to confront him so straight forward and he never wanted you to believe he had wanted to hurt you. “I…”, “or did you come to make fun of my hair?”

He shook his head. “No. It wasn´t my intention to…”, “Are you certain about that?” He shook his head again, white hair falling out of place. “If it wasn´t you intention than why did you say it? Why couldn´t you hold back when it wasn´t your intention?”

You turned away, trying to hide the tears that were most likely to fall. “I never meant to hurt you, please believe me. I -I lost control of my temper- I didn´t mean to.” He wasn´t apologizing, you both knew that. He had grown up to a man with great self control, he didn´t even know why he had not excluded you from the speech he presented. He wished he would have been controlled enough to ignore the little smirks Lucerys threw at him and instead could have talked to you in a normal way, maybe charmed you a little.

But he had not been able to control his brewing rage, that’s why he now stood in front of a woman he himself felt he had never met before. She had never looked at him like this. Full of hate and pain. It made her look different, but changed nothing about the feelings he kept for her. She was his, and he knew no matter what happened in the future, no matter how she looked at him, his love would always be reserved for her.

You heard his footsteps retrieve from your room, so you hastily ran to the door and slammed it shut – louder than you had intended to.

He had never made you feel like this. He had almost begged you to allow him to touch your hair a few years ago, because he liked it being so different than his. Curly, dark and unruly, not as silky and light as you would have liked for it to be.

It made you doubt. Doubt yourself, although you knew that it was useless. You could not change your appearance you had told yourself, you couldn´t change his view of you, just like you couldn´t change the image of him in your head – no matter how hard you tried or how hard he seemed to try to break it.

When the sun rose again the next morning, and the maids came to prepare you for the day, raking their gentle hands through your hair, you could not stop your wandering thoughts again. The circles under your eyes showed your clear lack of sleep, and everybody would be able to see them.  But you weren´t sure anymore if you were good enough to stay in the red keep, if you were strong enough to handle the ongoing feud between your family members.

This had been your home, until it hadn´t. This people were your home, until they weren´t anymore and maybe you were the only one who believed that things here hadn´t changed, just because you didn´t.

[drakoneve]

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Requests are OPEN. Who I write for below the cut;

Viserys I Targaryen

Complete.

Daemon Targaryen

Fury of the Dragon.

The Poisoned Cup.

The Wolf Amongst Dragons.

Missing Memories Pt. 1, Missing Memories Pt. 2

Rhaenyra Targaryen

coming soon…

Aemond Targaryen

Fateful Alliances.

Scheming Like A Criminal.

Reunited on Dragonstone. (F.A. pt.2)

A Father’s Love.

The Realm’s Darling (SERIES) WIP

Aegon II Targaryen

coming soon…

Alicent Hightower

coming soon…

Harwin Strong

A Dragon’s Wrath.

Jacaerys Velaryon

Emerald Princess (SERIES) WIP

Daeron Targaryen

coming soon...

Cregan Stark

coming soon...

[nonalie]

Waiting for Season 2 got me like