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sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Mine to Lose

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

warnings: language, sensual themes, I imagine the reader as a sibling to Rhaenys (so cousins with Daemon).

summary: Your return to the capital reignites the flame between you and Daemon.

note: a little Daemon drabble I’ve been playing around with!

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

It had been several years since you had been in the capital. But after much consideration, your husband had allowed you to stay with him at court.

Venturing down the halls you stopped outside the doors to the throne room. You could hear the soft sounds of High Valyrian being spoken inside. The doors were slightly ajar, and you peered through the opening.

Daemon and Rhaenyra were lost in conversation; Daemon observed his niece with a hungry expression on his face. You felt your breath catch in your throat. You had not seen Daemon in years as well.

“Cousin,” you call as you enter the throne room, throwing open the doors, and causing the pair to leap away from each other. You force a smile on your face.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, sweetly, as Rhaenyra scurries over to you. Her face is flushed, cheeks rosy. A necklace adorns her neck, Valyrian steel catching the light.

“Sodjisto,” she croons, as her small frame reaches you. You engulf her in a hug, stroking her silver hair, your eyes locked on Daemon. You’ve always been more of an aunt to Rhaenyra than a cousin.

He is standing tall, hands crossed in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Dakogon, byka zaldrīzes. īlon ūndegon bē tolī,” you tell Rhaenyra, stroking her cheek.

Run, little dragon. We catch up later.

Rhaenyra gives her uncle one last longing look, before squeezing your hand and leaving the throne room.

The silence she leaves in her wake is palpable between you and the Rogue Prince.

“It has been too long,” Daemon says, breaking the silence. His smile is predatory as he crosses his hands behind his back, his broad chest on display.

“Rhaenyra is just a child,” you scold, cutting to the chase. You saw the way he looked at her.

Daemon moves towards you, his strides are long, his face the picture of ease. He is circling you, as a dragon in the skies would its prey.

“I have missed you.”

The words are salt in an open wound that never healed, despite your time apart.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you tell him.

“I am surprised he does not keep you locked up at Casterly Rock.”

You understand which he Daemon refers to. The man you had been married off to at first chance; your father’s hope that the match would keep you far away from Daemon.

In truth, you had been a prisoner at Casterly Rock for the beginning of your marriage. You found the stony fortress depressing, with little to occupy yourself.

It appeared that both of you had been carted away to opposite sides of the realm.

“My lord husband is a member of the small council, his place is at court, as is mine. Aemma enjoys my company.”

“Does your husband?” he asks, a smirk ever present on his face.

You clasp your hands in front of you, lacing your fingers together, fiddling with the rings that adorn your fingers.

“My husband prefers the company of common whores to that of a princess. It seems I have a taste for men of that nature,” you tell him, bitterness evident in your tone. Though you did not care for your husband, there was a shame that came with knowing you did not fulfill your duties as a wife.

Daemon cocks his head to the side, taking in your words, realizing the implication.

“I never put any whore above you.”

You meet his gaze. Daemon’s lower lip protrudes in a pout, his brow furrowed. As he looks upon you he cannot imagine the stupidity of your Lannister husband. You are an exquisite creature in Daemon’s eyes.

“You may choose to believe what you wish,” you quip.

Daemon clicks his tongue before it finds purchase between his teeth.

“Let us retire to your chambers, my head between your legs will quickly silence that sharp tongue of yours.”

You stare each other down for a moment, the side of your mouth tugging upwards slightly.

“How is your wife? I hear you have not been to the Eyrie in many moons,” you throw the accusation like a knife.

If Daemon is right about one thing, it is your sharp tongue, your wit.

“I came to court to have the marriage annulled,” Daemon tells you, causing you to scoff.

“I suppose Viserys told you off.”

A beat.

“He did.”

You lace your fingers behind your back and begin walking away from him. You look at the Iron Throne and feel Daemon’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your skull.

“Marriage is simply a political agreement. Why not put a child in her and be done with it?”

“I do not see you with a child, married nearly a year. What do the maesters say to that?”

Though you still face away from him, a smile curls on your lips.

“That fire licks the walls of my womb. Inhabitable for a lion cub.”

You can feel his presence behind you, his breath on the back of your neck. Daemon has always had the ability to slowly creep up on you. A terrifying thought to some, but not you.

“But not a dragon.”

You turn to face him. Daemon’s eyes search your face, as though memorizing every feature.

“Stop that.”

“Do not deny it.”

“Viserys is already distraught at your return to court, and now you seek to provoke him further?” you question, raising a brow at the Targaryen prince, “What is your business with Rhaenyra?”

“I only wish to adore my dear niece.”

This earns a scoffing noise from you, along with a glare.

“You said similar things to me once.”

Daemon’s smile widens.

“And I adored you, didn’t I?”

You can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking away.

“She is just a child.”

“Rhaenyra will not be a child forever.”

“And then? You are a married man Daemon.”

Daemon sighs deeply.

“Did anyone question the Conqueror when he took two wives?” Daemon asks, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek. His fingers leave a trail of fire atop your skin in their wake.

“Did they question Maegor with his?” he continues, eyes dropping to your lips as they wet them.

“No, they nearly tore the realm apart instead,” you told him, “you never listened during our lessons, did you?”

Daemon drops his hand from your face, the loss of contact chilling.

“Hard to hear the maester with your thighs around my head,” he remarked.

You stick your chin up at him, cheeks hot.

“That never happened,” you tell him, as he chuckles.

“Perhaps I am misremembering,” he concludes.

The tension between you is thick, it clings to the walls of the throne room like fog.

“It is my understanding you shall be participating in today’s tourney?” you ask to clear the air. You are both in the capital now, plenty of time to continue arguing.

“Does that worry you?” Daemon asks. You shake your head.

“You are a skilled fighter,” you compliment. Daemon looks you over.

“Shall I have your favor?” he murmurs, taking a step closer. You tilt your chin to look up at him.

“Should you ask,” you answer, a soft smile on your face before he covers your mouth with his, fingers fisting in your hair, pulling your body flush against him.

taglist: @tempt-ress

note: if you would like to be added to my taglist, just let me know!

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x y/n #hotd daemon #hotd imagine #daemon oneshot #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fic #house of the dragon #fanfic writer

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lady-phasma · 1 year

Note

Hiya love Ur writing. Can I have “You can take it, you’ve done it before.” and/or "suck on my fingers." With Daemon xx

Of course you can!

Thank you so much anon! I started with 14 “You can take it, you’ve done it before.” and kinda worked in 17 as bonus (might not be your thing but it just kinda happened, oops). Prompt list here.

Take it...

Daemon x fem!reader 18+ NSFW

Forgive me for including Daemon’s long hair? I can’t help myself.

Daemon watched you from the head table as you left. You refused to look at him. If he followed or not was up to him. Your black dress flowed out behind you even though you tried to slow your pace. The anticipation made your hands shake and your footsteps quick. You thought you heard the distant scrape of chair legs on flagstone as you left the hall.

You exhaled as you turned down the corridor. You slowed almost to a stop when you heard boot heels behind you. Suddenly a hand was on your lower back, wordlessly urging you to walk again. Daemon’s hair slid over his shoulder as he turned to look for anyone else in the hallway. His fingers moved to grip the back of your arm tightly and pulled you into an alcove near a courtyard.

Most of the Keep was at the dinner tonight, this part of the castle appeard to be deserted. Daemon turned you to face him. He kissed you hard before you could speak. Grabbing your other arm he pushed you closer to the wall. You gasped when your back pressed against the cold stone. He let your arms go so he could knead your breast and your waist. Your own hands scrambled to find purchase to bring him closer to you. You ran your hand up his neck.

“Daemon,” you breathed. He growled and buried his face against your chest, the only part of you exposed by your dress. You clawed at his back, wishing the leather jerkin would disappear.

His hands seemed to move everywhere at once. But when the cool air hit your thighs you moaned. He slid his hand between your legs and cupped your naked mound. He mumbled your name against the tops of your breasts as he slid a finger through your wetness.

“You’re ready for me I see,” he said as he raised up to look in your eyes. You blushed, unsure why, but felt the heat spread down your neck and chest regardless. His fingers left you wanting more. He almost ripped open the laces of his pants and lifted one of your thighs to his waist.

Daemon dipped low to kiss you and lift you with his hips as he slid into you. You bit down on the cry that would have echoed in the empty corridor. After you had settled onto his dick he grabbed your other leg and you wrapped them around his waist.

“You can take it, you’ve done it before,” he growled into your ear. The stone wall grated at the fabric of your dress with each thrust. You could take it. Gods yes. You dug your nails into the back of his neck. His frustration and impatience won out and he found your nipple through all of the fabric. You pushed against his mouth as he grazed his teeth over the fabric. It wasn’t enough for either of you.

Your breath was frantic and you let out small pants that fluttered his hair. He was so very deep inside you. You were desperate and gripped his shoulder, ran your hand along his chest, frantically traced the line of his jaw moving him to look up at you. Your fingers found his lips. You watched as you drug them across his bottom lip. His eyes closed and he ground his hips into yours.

“Suck,” was all you said as you slipped your fingers past his lips. He did. Your head fell back as he slowly took the two fingers into his mouth. His tongue slid around them and he grazed them with his teeth. The wall against your head and back, his dick as deep inside you as you thought was ever possible, and his hot, wet mouth made you clench around him. The only thing you had to hold onto was his neck and as your orgasm began he moaned at the tight grip you had on him. It vibrated through your fingers and pushed you over the edge.

Daemon’s mouth fell open, breathing quickly and heavily. You absently let your wet fingers slide down his chin and rest on his chest as you shook and rolled your hips back against his. When you yelled his name he was too late in getting his hand over your mouth. At almost the same moment he groaned and his fingers pressed harder into your cheek. You panted against his palm. His hips stuttered and his cum spilled out in a hot rush. He made a lovely sighing moan.

He moved his hand from your mouth and slowly pulled out of you. He guided your shaking legs down so you stood propped against the wall. You tried to catch your breath as you both adjusted your clothing. He tugged you off the wall toward him and caught your mouth with his. He kissed you long and hard then walked away leaving you gasping.

Masterlist

#daemon smut #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon drabble #smut prompt #smut prompts #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon smut #daemon hotd #daemon targaryen #Targaryen hair is a sexuality #matt smith #daemon oneshot

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happilyhertale · 6 months

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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

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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.

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Tag list

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

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targaryen-dynasty · 7 months

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GUILELESS.

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

The streets of Flea Bottom most definitely were not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out at night, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; CNC, DUB-CON, p in v, roleplay, profanity, tiddy fucking, degrading, punishing, humiliating, public sex, slight oral (m receiving) and overstimulation, blink and you‘ll miss the breeding and size kink, vague description of fem!Martell!Reader (dark hair, dark eyes, small body)

WORDS: 2.6 K

NOTES: Killing two birds with one stone with this thing. Written for this and this request.

The streets of Flea Bottom were in an uproar with hundreds of gold cloaks roaming around to restore law and order in the foulest and most lawless district of the Westerosi capital. It most definitely was not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

Your reddish gown had been replaced by the clothes of a boy. A wide, black tunic and gray breeches hid your body, and your long, brown curls were covered by a black cloak. The boots you wore were surprisingly more comfortable than the sandals you wore around court, yet they were not at all appropriate to be paired to the finest, dornish silk you usually donned.

On your way through the dimly lit alleyways, you bumped shoulders with more than one commoner that fled the scene you were too eager to see. Coming closer to the source of the agonizing screams, you stopped just short of the crowd, barely out of the alleyway.

To your left was a pillow house, the ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass swung over the door casting you in a red light. You tried to move further and squeeze past the wall of curious bystanders, before your wrist was seized by something firm that caused you to gasp.

“A lady like you should be careful wandering the streets alone at such hour,” a deep voice drawled out. As you turned around, you immediately noticed who had you in a tight hold, the long, silver strands of hair peeking from beneath the helmet a dead giveaway–just like the surcoat depicting the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen that none of the other gold cloaks around you wore. Daemon Targaryen, Lord Commander of the City Watch.

You straightened your back, and decided not to show any of your emotions. Especially not the nervousness that soared through your veins. “I shall have you know that I am no lady,” you replied sternly, though there was a slight tremble in your smooth voice, “I am to be a princess soon.”

That seemed to amuse the man, your intimidation tactic clearly not working. “Oh, you most certainly are,” he replied with a mocking tone, “that is why I have found you in Flea Bottom, hm, dressed like what… a little boy?” Now there was a slight hint of uneasiness accompanying his words and presence, which had a shiver running up your spine. “As your princess, I command you to let go of me,” you pressed, trying to tug your arm back – but to no avail.

“You are a feisty little thing,” the gold cloak murmured with a sly smile. “It is a shame you are nothing more than a pretender. You would have made an excellent wife.” He didn’t even allow you to give him a reply, before his hand found the back of your neck to shove you into the pillow house to your left you had examined not long before.

Upon stumbling inside, you noticed that it was no pillow house but a simple brothel instead. Older wenches with more flesh to their hips and a used appearance did not hone the low quality the common room presented itself in. Considering the size of the crowd in front of the etablissement, it was surprising to spot not so many patrons inside.

“I–What–”

“I shall have you punished for those treacherous antics,” he barked, effectively cutting you off. The light tap he gave your rear caught you off guard, however, it was solely a ruse meant to distract you from both his hands grabbing the waistband of your breeches and undergarments to rather forcefully tug them down your body. It was nothing else than luck that the tunic you wore was long enough to cover your cunt for anyone that dared to catch a glimpse.

You gasped, and seized his hand on your hip that threatened to dive forwards between your legs. “My lord,” you protested, pretending that you did not know whose chest was pressed flush to your back, “you should not– I–”

Before you could protest even more, he had hauled you up against the breastplate of his armor, and you could merely look at him from over your shoulder, your dark eyes filled with lust. You started to struggle against his hold, yet his muscular arms snaked around your frame made it obvious you didn't stand a chance.

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“Silence,” he bellowed, carrying you through the common room of the brothel to an alcove that granted you just some more privacy. While you were dropped unceremoniously on a chaise standing nearby, he brought a large hand up to the back of your neck, applying a good bit of pressure so you were kneeling on the chaise with your arse up and face down.

From behind you, you could hear a satisfied groan, no doubt spotting the glistening shimmer on your cunt from how aroused you were. When his calloused finger dragged through your soaked mound, you could not stifle a moan to leave your lips.

“Please, stop, my lord, I am still a maiden,” you whimpered, trying to get back up only to be pushed down again forceful enough to have you grunting just once. “Stay,” he warned, and you were foolish to not obey his command. You could faintly hear his hands fumbling with the buckles along the breastplate of his armor, your heartbeat pounding in your ears loud enough to almost drown out every other sound, removing them and allowing the steel to fall to the ground – piece after piece following in its wake. “I am betrothed,” you tried to reason.

You gasped as his hand served a firmer slap to your arse this time, the gentle rubbing of his palm not at all mending the stinging pain. “And you still will be once I am done with you,” came his stern reply. He dragged two fingers through your mound, from your entrance to the little bud, retorting to rubbing mindless patterns over it that had you pushing your hips against his fingers for a moment to chase the friction. Despite the moans that left your lips, you tried to snake your hand between your thighs to cover your cunt and arse, but he was quick enough to capture both your hands, bringing them together behind you to pin them to your back with one hand.

The gold cloak was skilled enough to unlace his breeches one-handed, freeing his cock out of its confines. “I shall refrain from spending my seed inside of your cunt for I do not desire to dishonor your betrothed,” he mumbled, his voice taking on a rougher edge.

“Do not do this, please,” you released a shaky breath, and every protest that threatened to follow caught in your throat the moment he dragged the tip of his cock through your swollen folds, resuming the movements he had previously made with his fingers.

The attempt to resist him was cut short when his cock breached your core, pushing into you at a teasingly slow pace that had you drawing in a sharp breath. “Your betrothed might get to breed you, but I took your maidenhead. You do best to remember that when he lays his filthy hands on you,” he groaned. The moment you stretched around him, all you could choke out was ‘yes, yes, yes,’ being in a stupor because of his cock.

With his hand still around your wrists, he pulled you onto his cock until his hips pressed against your rear, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘Gods’ he muttered under his breath didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it appeared that he didn’t know where to place his free hand as it squeezed your arse, tugged on your hair and eventually settled in the curve of your waist.

He pounded into you with reckless abandon, the tip of his cock brushing the spot inside of you that had your vision grow blurry over and over again. With your face pressed into a pillow resting on the chaise, you were not able to spot the feigned anger and jealousy blazing in his eyes. The only thing that made you aware of the amusement he found in that situation was the tone of his husky voice, making it more than clear that he had a smirk on his lips. “When I am done with you,” he rasped, bowing forward to put more of his weight on your small frame beneath his. “You shall desire no one else’s cock but mine.”

“Yes–” he interrupted your answer with a hard, percussive thrust, and then another, and another, until you couldn't focus on anything else but the delicious pressure inside your cunt. You pushed your hips back against him, and he reared up to pull you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfway which resulted in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin bouncing off the walls. The position you were in, with your face pressed into the pillow, granted you some sense of feigned privacy, because otherwise you would have noticed some curious eyes lingering on you two whenever one of the customers or whores decided to prowl the scene unfolding.

“Let’s see how much you desire your betrothed’s cock after this.”

When his hips stilled, and the pleasure in the pit of your belly eased, you propped yourself up on your hands with his vice-like grip suddenly gone. You looked at him from over your shoulder, and if you were not so lost in the sight of him behind you, you would have pouted when he gripped the neckline of your tunic to rip the linen to shreds as if it was nothing, exposing the last bit of your body to the sticky air of the brothel.

His skin was glistening in the dim light the candles granted, small beads of sweat highlighting his muscles. His upper body was defined by numerous cuts and scars, a testament to the dangers he had survived in his short life already. As he glanced down to where his clock disappeared inside of you, strands of his silver hair fell into his face, framing his chiseled features. You were so focused on enjoying the view that you did not immediately catch on to what he had said to you, the words not registering in your mind.

It seemed that his patience was not infinite as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up as if you weighed nothing, settling you down on the cold floor so you sat on your haunches. He sat down on the chaise with his legs spread, his thick cock flush against his lower stomach, and straining as he leaned back, hands resting on his muscular thighs. You tilted your head, affecting a look of defiance. His eyes flickered over your frame, taking in every exposed inch of skin, and he couldn't help but smirk. “I said I shall not dishonor your betrothed, did I not?” he said, and almost dismissively waved his hand in order for you to continue.

You took that as your cue to use your hands and mouth to coax him towards his peak, however, when you reached to grasp the base of his member, the dragon in front of you merely tsked. Without saying a word, he bowed forwards and brought his paw-like hands to the sides of your breasts, squeezing them together. At the realization of what he had in mind, your eyes widened in surprise, and when he raised an eyebrow with a slight tilt of his head, you knew what was expected of you.

While his hands merely released your breasts to allow you to lean forwards, it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock, still thoroughly lubricated with your arousal. You positioned yourself so his cock rested in the Vale between your breasts, only for him to squeeze them together around it again. “Good girl,“ he praised, and you craned your neck to give a teasing lick along the slit at the tip of his cock, which prompted the prince to take in a sharp breath.

He replied by bucking his hips up, his cock bumping against your slightly parted lips. While he smirked at you in a smug manner, you released a surprised gasp, your eyes flickering between his violet ones and his cock. With his hands on your breasts, he kept them pressed tightly around his member, using the crevice between them to race for completion. You raised and lowered your body in rhythm with his hips, licking and kissing the tip of his cock whenever it came close enough to your lips.

His fingers pinched and brushed the perky buds of your breasts, causing you to release one whimper after the other. It was a titillating sight, watching how your expression shifted to a more focused one as you moved your body for his pleasure, ignoring the throbbing at the apex of your legs as best as you could.

“What an obedient, little wench I have found on the streets of Flea Bottom,” he groaned, his voice raspier, indicating that he was close to reaching his peak. “So willing to please the Lord Commander of the City Watch. Do you like watching me fuck those perfect teats of yours?” You couldn't help but whine, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words like they were the most embarrassing thing you had ever heard. Dornish people were known for their sexual licentiousness, but that man in front of you seemed to top just that.

“Will you claim me, my lord?” you asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. But with his peak approaching him rather quickly, the last threads of his patience seemed to snap as he growled a ‘Tis husband for you’ in return, the thoughts of your well-schemed ploy long forgotten at the aspect of spending himself all over you, claiming you. With a strangled groan, Daemon reached his completion, his cock spurting between your breasts and onto your chest, throat, lips and even your tongue. The pinch on your perky buds turned painfully tight with the pleasure soaring through his veins, causing you to squirm a bit, and it took a moment for the tension to slowly subside.

He watched with hooded eyes as you licked his seed off the skin your tongue could reach, and when your hands came up to peel him off of you, there didn’t come any objection from him. You wrapped your lips around his cock, and took as much of him down your throat as possible. He breathed heavily as he bowed forwards, looming over you as he took in the debauched sight in front of him.

Daemon shivered and grunted as you cleaned him up, the overstimulation making him sensitive to your touch, and he fisted your hair to pull you off of him. With the remnants of his seed still on your chin, you smiled up at him, and you could see his flaccid cock slowly growing hard again. You rested your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him as you lazily tugged him to full hardness again

“Gods,” he groaned, the bump in his throat bobbing in anticipation. “I love you, t–,” you replied, the last word catching in your throat as he hoisted you up to straddle his hips. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, and your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in the strands of his silver hair.

“I am going to make you peak, and then I am fucking you until you can no longer walk and you are carrying my child,” he mumbled into the curve of your neck, sucking in your skin to leave some faint marks. “Just to show you how much I love you, wife.”

General Taglist: @aemondx @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

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shuichiakainx · 2 months

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they say home is where the heart is, but God I love Matt 💕

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my-on-and-off-writingstuff · 1 year

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Troublemaker | Daemon x reader

Summary: the three times Daemon is harassed by a tiny toddler.

Warning: Age gap of around 10 years between reader and Daemon. Furthermore, Daemon did not marry Lady Rhea Royce.

93 AC

At two and ten Daemon Targaryen had escaped his teacher. instead he preferred to spend his day underneath the Weirwood tree. The young prince was laying at the root of the tree with arms underneath his head while sleepily looking up at the sky. Somewhere he can hear one of his teachers call out to him. Without doubt wanting to enrich him with an ancient batter or the doom of old Valyria. Something he had learned about a thousand times. This morning has already been filled with sword fighting and while he rather would have ridden his dragon Caraxes he knew sneaking out the Dragon pit would be almost impossible. God knows what his brother Viserys was doing, and he was not really planning on finding out as his brother was probably going to snitch him to his teacher anyway.

Something was tugging on his hair and annoyed he hoped his eyes looking around for the culprit that had interrupted his nap. With a frown on his forehead, he looks at the tiny toddler sitting content at his side. Their little plump fingers going through his hair and occasionally give a sharp tug. Other than the two of you the Godwoods is empty. No nursemaid or servant to be found. The little one was babbling content noises. Judging by the snit of her dress the little toddler was not a servant’s babe but a child of one of the noble ladies residing in the keep.

He tried to ignore the toddler and closed his eyes again. It is not his responsibly to take care of a little girl that what the servants are for. A screech interrupted his rest once again and his eyes quicky found the little one once again. This time you were crawling away from him towards the table underneath the roofed area. The table was covered with a long cloth, hanging of the edge of table almost to the ground, the table was decked with silverware and set for a quick lunch. He knew the curiosity of toddlers and while you had crawled your way there, judging you age he knew you were old enough to be learning how to stand so he made his way towards you quickly. For such a little thing you were quick and had almost reached the table. He carefully scooped you up, but your little fist had managed to grip on to the tablecloth and with Daemons motion of scooping you up you had managed enough force to pull the silverware from the table.

The silverware was clattering to the ground around Daemons feet, wine, and food clinging to his clothing. He groaned but to your amusement the sound of the silverware and his frustration made you giggle. A soft and innocent sound which Daemon had to admit made his heart melt. “Oh, you are enjoying this, little troublemaker.” His voice made an adorable smile spread on your face and he softly tickled you to make you laugh again. He swung you around back to the tree to sit down and keep you out of harm’s way.

The sound of the silverware clattering to the ground had attracted maids and other public to see what was happening. As the maids were quickly and quietly cleaning up the mess you had made. A woman came running in. She let out a sign of relief when noticing you. Her color of her hair and eyes matched yours and Daemon was positively that it was your mother. “Oh, my baby.” The woman exclaimed while quickly gathering you into her arms. The little toddler did not seem to like being ripped out of Daemons embrace, who you had considered to be your friend as the toddler started frowning and making grabbing hands towards him. “I am sorry for the trouble she has caused my prince.” The woman apologized quietly while soothing her daughter. Who’s lip was starting to wobble. “Next time do not let her out of someone’s sight as she might not be so lucky.” He scolded the woman, which he recognized as one of the ladies of a noble house who had just arrived at court for the festivities.

“Of course, my prince, thank you for watching over her.” The lady made a courtesy towards him. Daemon only nodded and walked past the woman with all intention to make haste and find new place to relax but your baby talk made him halt. He turned around towards you and with his index finger lightly fluttered over your little face. “She is a troublemaker that one.” And with that he took his leave.

___

A few weeks later he was walking towards the courtyard to practice some sword fighting when he noticed a presence behind him. He looked over his shoulder and abruptly stopped when he saw you waddling behind him. “Ah the little troublemaker has mastered walking.” He said to the little toddler. Unbeknownst to him the door of the room you and your family was occupying was left open and when seeing him walking past you had seen your chance and followed him. You made grabby hands at him, and he saw that as a sign to pick you up. Content of being in his arms your hand grabbed at his long hair.

“Och, little one let’s not do that.” He untangled his hair from your little hands but as soon as he freed his hair out of your grip your hands were back into his hair. He simply gave up and continued his way towards the courtyard where the training sessions were held. Along the way ignoring the glances of the people around him.

His sword fight teacher raised an eyebrow when he saw the young prince come his way with the small toddler in his arms but said nothing. Only looked on in amusement when Daemon carefully sat the toddler down on a bench gave you a wooden dagger to play with, to keep you occupied and distracted. “She is a troublemaker that one.” Was the only thing the prince acknowledged about the toddler before focusing on the training. Somewhere in the middle of the training a maid who had been sent to look for you had taken you away. Which had resulted in your cries echoing across the courtyard displeased with being taken away while you had been playing with the wooden dagger and had been watching Daemon train with wide eyes of amazement. Daemon almost had snatched you out of the hands of the maid when your disagreement with the situation had made itself known. But decided against it as you were not family of him. His eyes followed the form of the maid who quickly carried you away.

___

Two months later he was properly introduced to the little toddler it was the name day of your older brother. His father, Viserys and he had made his way towards the garden where the party was held. His father properly introduced his brother and him to the family, and your mother stumbled over her words as she properly met the prince still aware of the time, he had scolded her for not watching her child.

The royal family had sat down on the provided chairs which were placed around the garden for the parents to be able to socialize and the children to run around and play. As soon as your little eyes had found him you had made your way towards him. Daemon had not noticed you sneaking up on him until you were tugging at his clothes. Your mother tried to distract you but to no avail. “Y/N, baby come here” You had only looked briefly towards your mother before again tugging these times more urgently at his clothes. Daemon looked down at you, the same smile on your little face as when he had first met you and again his heart melted. He picked you up and sat you in his lap.

From there you had a great view and was watching other kids play around you while also sheepishly eyeing up the cakes standing on the table. Daemon quickly took notice of the cakes when he saw you attempting to crawl on the table. “Ah see your little trouble side is coming out again.” He spoke quietly to you making sure his brother could not jest him about talking to a toddler. You let out an adorable giggle at the sound of his voice and again tried to move closer to the cakes. “You just can not help it, can you?” Daemon kept an arm around your stomach to make sure you did not fall or lose balance before plating one of the cakes onto a plate and putting it in front of you. A little scream came from your mouth as the little cake you had been eyeing was now in front of you.

Without much hesitation your hands grabbed the cake and brought it to your mouth. You leaned against Daemon with the cake in your hands clearly content with your position. Daemon let out a soft groan because of the crumbs that were falling onto his clothes. Your mother had given up on trying to coax you away from the prince. With a full belly and a comfortable position, you had quickly fallen asleep in Daemons arms. However, every time when your mother would try to lift you out of Daemons arms and give you to one of the maids. You would stir and start whining which ended up with Daemon being annoyed with your mother and telling her you were fine in his arms. He ignored his brother who was trying to stifle his laugh across from him at the table clearly finding it amusing how much his brother was wrapped around the toddler little finger.

In the end Daemon was the one who had carried you back to the castle. Nobody allowed to get you out of his arms. He loved the feeling of that responsibility, caring for you was slowly but surely one of his favorite things. While his brother was jesting that you had imprinted on him like a little baby rabbit. Daemon could only relinquish in the feeling that you had chosen him to do so.

Slowly he placed you in your bed. He brushed your baby hairs before leaving the room without another glance. Missing the little smile that graced your lips even in your sleep.

___

111 AC

Daemon was nervously tugging at the collar of his jacket while looking around the great hall trying to not meet the eye of a single spectator. The great hall was transformed into a magical place where the wedding ceremony was going to take place. Sun light was lighting up the room making the golden and white wand decorations handing from the walls shine. Flowers were wrapped around the columns and the tacitly pleased around the room. You had planned it out to the last detail even the broach on which tied the cape and his jacket together.

You had gifted it to him last night. It was a golden dragon midflight with its wings stretched out. It was unlike the Targaryen crest, and he had never been gifted something this thoughtful. For its eye was a single ruby. “For the color of Caraxes scales.” You had proudly stated while pinning it to his wedding attire so that it would all be ready for tomorrow. Like he said you had planned everything. Before he could properly thank you, you had all but ran out the room. Screaming back at him that he would have to wait one more night.

Once again, he roams the space, and his eyes briefly meet your parents. While he practically had to beg your dad for your hand your mother was already wiping her tears away. Your father was a little less pleased as he glared at Daemon with a stoic face. Your father was not a fan of the 10 years age gap, as well reputation of rogue prince. However very much like Daemon you had both of them wrapped around your finger from a verry young age. Every marriage proposal you had rejected in favor of this one. After all you had dreamed about this wedding for ages and what you want you would get even if your dad was not totally aboard with it. As a father he had his concerns and Daemons reputation did not paint him in a favorable light.

The music starts playing and Daemon shifts his attention to the big heavy doors. The doors are opened by two knights and within seconds you are making you way down the rows of people. You were wearing a heavily decorate golden gown with flowers and little stars on it. The trail of wedding dress is in a long trail behind you, shifting the flowers that mark the path towards the altar on the ground slightly. In your hair is a grand diadem set with rubies and diamonds. Around your neck is a necklace set with stones where part of it drops downs and settles between the valley of your breast. The necklace together with the drop earrings was his engagement gift for you. You had only worn them once before showing them off at their engagement feast before locking them up and saving them for your wedding day.

You had almost reached the altar and Daemon reached out his hands to help you up it. You looked like a goddess with the sunlight warming your face and making your dress sparkle. You take his hands in yours and squeeze it to reassure yourself that this is all happening, and it is not just a dream. The maids in charge of the trail delicately place it around you when you stand in front of your soon to be husband before they take a step back. The septon comes forwards and hushes the crowd. You smile nervously at him, as if you had only just noticed the crowd.

“Who is giving away the bride?” the septon asks. “I am!” your father voices bellows through the sept. He climbs the stairs of the altar and slowly takes of the beautiful made cloak in your house colors. The cloak is heavily decorated and reaches all the way to the floor. “You sure about this honey, we can still make a run for it.” Your father tries to joke but you see the emotion in his eyes. “Yes father, he is the man I want to marry.” You sneak a glance at Daemon who is tense, clearly having heard the conversation and you father offering you a way out. Your father only nods a response before kissing your forehead and returning to stand next to your mother.

“Now who is to claim her?” Daemon reaches out to the servant who is holding his cloak. As he unfurls the cloak the crowd gasps at the sight of the cloak. The cloak was of a black fabric and looked velvety of texture. The dragon was made from red thread but in the light of the sun it seemed to reflect and glimmer. Just as your house cloak this one reached the ground as well. the chain that would hold the cloak around your shoulders was made of gold and the clasp was another dragon quite similar to the broach Daemon was wearing. He now understood why you were persistent on that dragon.

He stepped closer to you and your usually scent invaded his senses. He smiled at you and carefully wrapped the cloak around you before fasting it. His finger ghosted over the rounding of your breast before he dutifully stepped a step back. keeping the appropriate distance between the two of you. “With the exchange of cloaks, the bride has passed from the protection of her father into her husband’s protection.” The septon declares before moving to take up the wine cup.

He leads the prayer and blesses the cup before giving it to Daemon. Without breaking eye contact Daemon takes a sip out of the cup. tasting the bitter taste of the wine before swallowing it. He takes the cup to your lips and tentatively tilts it so you can take a sip out of it. “Let this wine be the first of many things they will share between them,” The septon once again declares before taking the cup away.

The septon then gestures for the bride and groom to take each other’s hands. “Repeat after me.” Daemon for the first time during the ceremony looks at the septon and from the corner of his eye he sees you doing the same. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.” Daemons eyes are back on yours while he repeats the septon. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.” You feel your cheeks warm at his words and can’t help but look at the way his lips move while speaking his vows. The septon now turns to you. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.” Without hesitation you repeat the words and intuitive take a step forwards. Daemon places his hand up your waist.

“Then in the power invested in me by the faith of the seven I declare you man and wife as they are one flesh, one heart, one soul now and forever and may they live a long and fruitful live.” Before the septon has even finished his speech Daemon pulls you into his chest. Your hand bracing for the impact lays on his chest. With his free hand he tilts your chin upwards and presses his lips against you. The world around you goes silent, no longer are you hearing the clapping of the invited lords and ladies. Your whole attention and senses are dedicated to the prince in your arms. A prince you can now proudly call yours. You feel his free hand roam its way down to your butt. The Septon clears his throat obviously uncomfortable at the sight of that and reluctant Daemon ends the kiss. “You are stuck with me, little troublemaker.” You smile up at him blissfully still in his warm embrace. “I would not have it any other way.”

___

Part 2

#daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen oneshot #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fancficton #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones #hotd

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hotreadingwitch · 6 months

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Daemon x Reader - Eyes on Fire

A/N - this one is for the girlies that have always wanted Daemon to talk them through it (me)…This chapter’s a bit longer than usual so strap yourselves in for the ride! Plus I've made this one Daemon Targaryen Appreciate Week (2023) which is a week here on tumblr organized by marvelsrejects! ...And it's still Kinktober ;)

Content Warnings/Kinks: taboo relationship/incest (uncle x niece), hickeys, choking, hair pulling, breast play, edging, masturbating, oral sex + face fucking (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (vaginal)

Eyes on Fire

Daemon’s eyes prowled watchfully across the room of dancing nobility from his seat on the raised dais where he sat, perched much too comfortably in his stiff chair. Y/n glanced in his direction, cursing to herself as her foolish mind raced with unnatural thoughts. She hadn’t been able to even consider another man after her single late-night adventure with him, though it had led to nothing…Her gaze flitted to him again, in his red silks and armour, with his icy short curls, only to find him looking right back at her.

Y/n watched Daemon excuse himself from a likely boring discussion with one of the much older party guests there to celebrate her 20th birthday and begin to move towards her, cutting the thick, dancing bustle. He moved through the crowd like a shadow, made of nothing but darkness. As he came closer, however, she could feel his gaze was pure fire, heating her cheeks with each step that he took. When Dameon reached her, it seemed that indeed, his light, sunken eyes were truly made of flame.

“Uncle” she greeted, refusing to shift where she stood even though she was intimidated by his large presence and the effect it clearly still had on her.

“Princess”

She jutted her chin forward, staring up at him with burning curiosity and clear animosity.

Gaomagon daor jurnegon issa raqagon bona. “Don’t look at me like that” Daemon warned, switching to the language of their ancestors.

Raqagon skoros? “Like what?” she responded heatedly.

Raqagon ao would raqagon naejot zālagon issa skoriot nyke nykeōragon “Like you’d like to burn me where I stand”

“And so what if I do?”

“Have I made so many mistakes that you’ve grown to hate me?”

She jutted her chin forward, frustrated by his games, “My father admires you though he does not often admit it but your blatant pursuits of me are a direct threat to him and also to me…I see your actions for what they are Daemon”

“Is that so?” He jeered, quickly grasping her by the throat, his long fingers planted securely under her jaw making her gasp and move closer to him as if compelled by some lustful force within, “I sense your desires are not quite in line with those of your father Princess…”

Tension sparked between them.

Rhaenagon issa isse hāre hours. “Meet me in 3 hours”

She looked at him quizzically, her breath seemingly stolen right from her body at the intensity of his low command. Releasing his grip on her neck he stalked away, out of the grand room, “Enjoy the rest of your party and…Happy Birthday Princess”

Y/n snuck out of her chambers and made her way through the cool, dark hallways of the castle until she reached her destination. She rapped her knuckles harshly on the hardwood, continuing to knock until the tall door was ripped open.

“You’re going to wake half the castle doing that Princess” Daemon chastised.

“I wasn’t under the impression that you cared about me being too loud Daemon” Y/n smiled smugly, tilting her head, her gaze roving over him.

“Huh,” Daemon let out a puff of breath as he smiled, the small joke getting the best of him.

Daemon’s red silk shirt was unbuttoned almost down to his navel and his hair was messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it nervously. Y/n had been the one to make Daemon nervous for once…Oh how the tables have turned, she thought to herself.

He turned away, allowing her a moment to take in the gilded room that was similar in style to hers, only slightly smaller.

“Do you want a drink?” He interrupted her thoughts.

“Trying to get me drunk on your wines Daemon?” She chuckled, joking with him again.

“No” he replied, suddenly serious, “You really think I’m that kind of man Y/n?”

“I—“ she huffed, “I don’t know what to think about you anymore Uncle. One minute you’re all over me, making me think there’s something between us finally, like I’ve wanted there to be for as long as I can remember, and then—and then you pull away…You always pull away Daemon”

He came toward her and in an instant his hands were in her hair, “I won’t pull away Princess, ever again, you have my word”

“Really?” her voice was a quiet whisper, she felt vulnerable softening, even slightly, with relief in his arms.

“There is nothing that could stop me now from being by your side”

She seemed hesitant.

“What can I do to prove it to you? Do I need to beg for your forgiveness? Do you want me on my knees? Because if it is what you want, what you need, I will, without question”

Y/n was shocked by his proclamation. She knew there was an unbearable tension, a heat between her and Daemon but she never knew the depth of his feelings. The fact that a man as powerful as him would beg and kneel before her was enough for her faith to be restored and for a heat to begin rising up within her.

She stepped closer to him, forcing him backward until his back hit the cool, stone wall. She peppered light kisses down from his cheek to his jaw to his bare neck, biting slightly at some points, making him wince with the slight pain. “I believe you,” she told him finally if her kisses and bites weren’t enough confirmation.

“Princess…” he groaned as she sunk to her knees before him, “Fuck me—please”

Y/n pulled his pants off slowly, never once breaking her eye contact with him. She spit on his tip, swirling her tongue around the now-wet surface. Teasing him even more, she ran her soft lips and tongue up and down the underside of his shaft, popping the tip into her mouth every time she reached it, again and again and again until he was desperate for more.

“Put it in your mouth” he commanded, regaining his usual dominance, tugging her head back gently with her hair gripped tightly in his fist, “Now…”

Y/n smiled up at him, a feral grin that told him this was exactly what she wanted, what she needed, before she swirled her tongue in more circles around him, earning her a deep groan. She then began to suck, as he desired, hollowing her mouth before slowly taking the majority of his length down her wet throat. His gaze was powerful and his eyes were cold as he looked down at her, watching each motion, releasing a low moan as her hands focused on the base of his shaft. She only sped up her pace from there, Dameon’s chambers filling with the sounds of slurping and spit.

“You look so pretty on your knees for me love, with my—“ he groaned loudly, “with my fucking cock stuffed in your mouth like that”

She pulled up off of him, smiling at the trail of spit that connected her lips to him before opening her mouth wide, her eyes begging for him to take control.

“Wider” he commanded, cursing when she obeyed him, “Fuck…”

His entire length pushed itself into her mouth, spreading her reddened lips wide, causing her a bit of pain though she didn’t mind and she never would as long as the person hurting her was Daemon. With his hands gripped tightly in her hair, he fucked her wet mouth, grinding into her at a pace that threatened to make her cry.

“Gods you’re good, so good” he grunted.

Soon, she could feel his cock begin to throb within her mouth, spurting thick white liquid down her throat. She swallowed his cum thirstily before detaching herself from his cock with a loud “pop”.

Once she stood back up, Daemon came towards her, his body emitting a fiercely dominant energy that she could feel even without him physically touching her. And when he finally laid his hands on her, she could feel the heat emanating from his rough, calloused palms, cutting through her thin gown down to her bare skin. He grabbed her hand in an uncharacteristically gentle motion, pulling her towards his large bed.

Daemon rustled the sheets with his movements as he made his way to the top of the bed, sitting upright so that his back hit the sturdy headboard. With a “come hither” flick of his fingers, he gestured for Y/n to climb up to be with him.

“You want me to ride you?” She questioned, unsure as she had never tried that before.

“No…That can come later Princess if you so desire it,” he chuckled lightly, making her gulp “No, I want you to lay back here on me”

She obeyed, confused though about what exactly they were about to do. But all doubts in her mind were removed when she settled her back against Daemon’s front and he whispered in her ear,

“Play with yourself for me”

She sucked in a quick, shocked breath at his command. Turning her head, she assessed him with a calculating gaze, trying to figure out why he wanted this specifically.

“Did I say you could turn around” he growled, not an ounce of gentleness in his hard eyes.

Y/n whipped her head to face forward so quickly she swore she almost got whiplash.

“Good girl” he praised, his breath on her neck making her skin tingle, “Do you know why I want you to touch yourself for me?”

“No”

Daemon’s hands skimmed over her thighs from behind, making her sigh at the simple caress.

“I want you to touch yourself because I want to see exactly what you like, then next time I can make you even more of a mess myself” he smiled, a small evil grin that appeared when she gasped quietly in shock, “And sure it helps that watching you makes me hard too…So, can you be good and do what I say, when I say it love?”

Y/n nodded submissively, complying with his directions. When she eventually pulled her panties off he smirked, pleasing him had already completely turned her on. She dipped her fingers down to her hole before holding them up to the warm but dim light in the room. Y/n could feel Daemon grow hard again behind her at the mere sight of the wetness coating her fingers.

“Touch yourself” he commanded.

Y/n relaxed against the firm wall of muscle behind her, beginning to rub her slick on and around her clit, going slowly in pleasurable circles. She gasped quietly at how having Daemon watch her heightened the familiar feeling.

“That’s it love, keep going for me”

She continued from there, rubbing around her clit, dipping her fingers in her sticky wetness to get them slick enough every time the surface felt too dry. Each time her fingers slipped over her wet hole, curling just inside, Daemon would groan or growl as if the mere thought of sliding into her was driving him mad.

“Faster” he ordered, his tone harsh, desperate, “Yes, Princess”

Her legs fell open, spreading even more as she pleased her clit, Daemon planting small kisses along her neck. She tilted her head to the side with a moan, inviting him to kiss her skin rougher, to bite into her even.

“So needy my love” he chuckled deeply, the cool air chilling the wet spots on her skin.

He jested and yet he did what he knew she wanted anyway, sucking on her sensitive neck and jaw, leaving sore marks in his wake. As his mouth pleased her skin, his hands were busy gripping her breasts, kneading them harshly.

“I’m close” Y/n managed to shakily breathe out.

“Stop”

Her fingers faltered but she kept going.

“I said stop” Daemon gripped her throat from behind, squeezing, as his other hand reached down to hold hers in place “I don’t think you want to know what’ll happen if you disobey me, Princess”

With a whine, she stopped fighting him.

“Daemon…please” she begged, her cheeks flushed with shame and yet, also unabashed desire, “I need—I need you to let me cum”

“You’ll obey me?” His question hung in the air.

“Yes, yes” she agreed pliantly.

He reached further down then, gathering some of her slick on his fingers before bringing it to his lips. She could feel his cock hard and harsh against her back.

“Daemon…” her words were a broken sob.

“You must learn to be patient if you’re going to be Queen someday no?” He chuckled, his voice a low grumble in her ear.

“Please, Gods Daemon, please”

He smirked before repeating his earlier command, “Touch yourself”

Her slicked fingers slid vigorously up and down the area just to the sides of her clit, quickly bringing her back to the edge after the slow-building feeling had come to a screeching halt. Rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, she bucked her hips and threw her head back onto Daemon’s hard chest.

“Daemon” she moaned.

“Cum, yes cum for me”

She felt herself twitch as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her at his command. “Gods” she breathed, her breath hitching as she came. Daemon’s hand never left her throat as he squeezed her air supply, making her slightly light-headed.

“Fuckkk” she groaned, barely able to breathe.

As the feeling lessened, just as her body was beginning to cool from the heat, Daemon flipped her over so that he was on top.

“So beautiful Princess, so beautiful when you’re cumming for me, all for me”

She chuckled, pulling him in for a chaste kiss that quickly deepened. Daemon palmed his way down her chest, teasing each nipple with his warm tongue until she was close to moaning, desperate for him again, needing him now more than ever. Just as she thought he was about to lower himself before her, he stopped, making her release a low whine in protest.

“Is that any way to treat your future Queen?” she huffed, peeved.

Daemon licked up the curves of her stomach with the flat of his tongue in one long swipe. She bit down on her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape.

“Are you commanding me then?” He chuckled darkly, “Cheeky Princess, for you’re not Queen yet…”

“And when I am?”

“The world will burn, surely” he flirted with a smirk.

His tongue lashed at her bottom lip, begging for entrance which she quickly allowed. Moaning into his mouth, Y/n ground her desperate body up against him while pulling at the remaining clothes that he wore until they were strewn on the floor, somewhere across the room.

“Daemon…” she murmured softly, her mind straying to the lustful things he would soon be doing to her, “Please”

“You want it?” He questioned, a gentle hand on her cheek, “You’re sure…?”

“Yes” she whimpered, “Gods Daemon, yes”

That same gentle hand immediately slid down from her face to her throat, pushing down so hard that her head made an even deeper indent in the pillow beneath her.

“Daemon—“ she grunted, barely able to breathe, then moaning loudly as he slid his tip into her.

Their eyes met and a thousand fiery, silent promises passed between them. Daemon knew he’d fuck her tonight until she came all over his cock, becoming a beautiful mess of a woman beneath him and Y/n knew he’d please her any way she liked, again and again for the rest of her days. Gods bless for that.

Daemon pushed further into her tight hole, earning a deep grunt from him and a small whimper from her. He waited a moment, allowing her time to adjust to his size.

“Keep going” she begged, wanting him more than ever.

He moaned as he fit his entire length into her, gripping her ass roughly in his palms. Y/n cried out loudly, instantly slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the loud sound.

“No love, let me hear you” he commanded, adding with a harsh whisper when she hesitated, “I don’t care if this entire castle knows how much of a whore you are, you’re mine and what should we care if they know it”

“Fuck” she moaned, her voice a breathy whisper, encouraging him to go faster, “Faster, harder—Daemon please”

He complied, slamming in and out of her roughly, her pussy so slick already, so wet, he glided into her with ease. She groaned onto him as her teeth sunk into the skin of his hot neck, overwhelmed by his powerful thrusts. His other hand slid down from her throat, circling pleasurable circles around her clit, just like she had done to herself earlier, knowing exactly how to please her.

“Daemon…” she whimpered, squeezing herself around him, egging on his movements

He grunted, pleased, speeding up his thrusts. He pumped in and out of her, gripping her hips so hard that she was sure he’d leave hand-shaped bruises on them for the handmaidens to wonder about. As Daemon fucked her, Y/n ground her hips back onto him, making his cock go even deeper, hitting the perfect spot.

“Gods” she cried out, holding onto his broad shoulders as she writhed beneath him.

“You’re doing so good for me Princess, this cunt’s driving me fuck—fucking mad” he swore through gritted teeth.

Within minutes, both of them were shaking from exhaustion, their breathing laboured. And soon, the familiar feeling of an orgasm began to rise up through Y/n’s body. The pleasure hit her like a tidal wave, washing over her body in intense surges, leaving destruction in its wake. As she came, she bucked her hips while moaning Daemon’s name again and again, she couldn’t care less about being quiet. The feeling of her tightening around his cock caused him to cum within her, grunting aggressively as he did.

“Perfect, you’re perfect” he groaned.

She kissed him fiercely, her lips were puffy and swollen but she didn’t care and it seemed that Daemon didn’t either as he returned her passion.

“I meant what I said tonight Princess…” Daemon breathed heavily as he confessed, “You mean more to me than the Seven Kingdoms, than any of the wars I’ve won, than the seas. I will never make the mistake of playing with your heart again, I promise you that”

Her eyes flicked to his, barely believing the heart of the man who had caused her so much grief. And yet, and yet. So she kissed him, a slow, sensitive kiss that spoke the truest words that she’d ever say.

#oneshot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daeweek23 #daemon targaryen appreciation week #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

Text

without you, I would not be (Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader)

An outsider growing up alongside the Targaryens, the reader is like family. For Daemon, maybe even more. She gets injured one day, and his affections finally come to light.

word count: 1.6k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: protective!daemon, friends to lovers, fluff, cursing

series coming soon!

Daemon was fuming. He was a collected person by nature, content with allowing chaos to simply unfold, especially if he had a hand in it. But now and again, his fire reveals itself in acts of passion or calculated transgression. The prince, albeit admired by all, has earned quite a reputation that made him intimidating. Powerful. An alluring enigma.

And in that moment, as he rushedly strode through the hallways, he was beside himself with anger. You had been hurt.

You, the object of all of his affection. His heart’s eternal flame. Not that he ever told you this, of course.

Daemon liked keeping his desires close to his chest. He did not act upon them unless he was sure, and he’s always been sure of you. But for the first time, he was unsure of himself.

He knew what he was, impulsive and dangerous. And you… you were too good for him. Perfect.

All these years, you had grown up alongside Rhaenyra, becoming like a beloved elder sister, and a most-trusted friend and ally. Being an orphaned princess of one of the great houses of Old Valyria, the Targaryens took you under their wing. You became family, almost a Targaryen yourself.

Daemon had also become a close figure, a constant protector and somewhat more than a friend. He liked to press you, infuriate you at times, but you knew it was all out of love. Rhaenyra liked to tease you about her uncle’s apparent admiration for you, but you always pushed it aside.

Surely Daemon doesn’t see you that way. Nearly each night, he had his pick of the finest men and women in the kingdom, the paramour of all those who came and went by his quarters in the late hours. Why would he desire someone younger, someone quite inexperienced as you?

Still, you hoped. Because deny it as you might, you still saw. His lingering gaze, the way his hand gently tightens on your waist, the playful remarks. If it all confirmed what Rhaenyra insinuated, then you wanted him too.

That morning, in one of the combat exercises in the courtyard, you convinced them to let you join in. It has never been customary for princesses to engage in such activities, but you enjoyed them. You enjoyed the rush that swordplay gave you.

This was another reason why Daemon and yourself grew so close. He would train you in secret, away from prying eyes, and over the years, your improvement can mainly be attributed to him.

However, as much of a great swordswoman as you have become, you had been injured that day in the courtyard. You had taken a misstep, which resulted in Ser Criston running his sword over you arm, a long gash running down its side. The Kingsguard hurriedly took him away from you, but you commanded them to stand down. It was a mere accident, after all.

Afterward, you sat in your quarters, being tended to by the maester. Rhaenyra joined you there, too, making sure that you were alright.

“Make sure you sew that nicely,” she said, hovering over the maester, “I don’t want her stitches to suddenly come apart.”

“He knows what he’s doing, Rhae,” you said affectionately, flinching a little at the needle going through, “It should heal quickly, anyway. It wasn’t that deep.”

“We should put that Ser Criston through the ringer,” she pointed out, “Have father conduct a beheading in the next ceremony.”

“Oh yeah, it’s been quite a long time since the last beheading. We have been left wanting,” you smile, going along with it.

A moment passes, and when you see the shocked expression on the maester’s face, the both of you exploded into a fit of laughter.

This was how you and Rhaenyra always have been. Two mischievous peas in a pod. Sisters, truly, not by blood but in heart.

Suddenly the doors flew open, putting a pause on the light-hearted moment. Daemon stood there, his expression unreadable.

“Dear uncle,” Rhaenyra greeted him.

He said nothing, and walked over to you, letting his fingers gently drift across your arm.

“The state of it?” He said curtly, not even looking at the maester.

“The wound itself should be fully healed in around three weeks, my prince. Although,” the maester pauses, “the scar will stay.”

“And,” he said, slowly this time, “which incompetent fuck was responsible?” His eyes meet Rhaenyra’s.

“The great Ser Criston Cole, uncle,” she said, mirth in her eyes, “He has been temporarily dismissed from his post, but he should be back with us after a while.”

“Temporarily dismissed?", he breathed out, incredulous, “He should be permanently dismissed from living.”

You let out a laugh at that, glancing at Rhaenyra who raised her eyebrows at you, “It’s okay, Daemon. It was only an accident. I highly doubt a simple injury warrants anything more to be done. Besides, he couldn’t have done anything more to me if he tried, thanks to you.” You reassured him as he moved away, alluding to his guidance in constantly honing your skills in combat.

“I know that, my sweet girl.” He stood gazing out the window, and you realized that he hasn’t met your eyes since he stormed in. But that term of endearment that he assigned to you made you feel warm, and it always has, since he first used it some time ago.

“There,” the maester exclaimed, standing up, “all done. I will be visiting you tomorrow to examine it again, princess.”

“Thank you, maester,” you addressed him, as he bows, and promptly leaves the room.

Rhaenyra sat closer to you, and inspected the stitches herself. Seemingly satisfied, she stood up, “Alright, well, I nearly forgot I have something to attend to in… uh…”

“Now?” you questioned, as she did not mention anything before.

“Yes, didn’t I mention? My father needs me I believe,” she walked to the door, but just before reaching it, she turned to you and winked.

“Rhae,” you whispered, confusion visible on your face.

Before you could add anything, she left, bidding you and Daemon goodbye.

A long silence followed, Daemon resolute in his post by the window.

“Daemon,” you said, trying to get his attention, “what are you thinking about?”

“All they told me was that you were injured. No one bothered to tell me of the extent of said injury, or of your overall condition, or of who inflicted it upon you and how.”

He turned around to face you then, hands clasped in front of him, “That was all – ‘Princess y/n has been injured, my prince.’ That was all I got. The blubbering messenger couldn’t even answer anything I threw at him about it.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault, Daemon. I didn’t even know that you would be alerted,” you said, “I apologize if you had been inconvenienced.” You knew that Daemon had been away from King’s Landing, assigned to facilitate an alliance with one of the houses in the north.

But you didn’t know that Daemon had assigned his people to keep tabs on you, to regularly keep him informed of how you were doing. If anything of any importance were to happen, he wanted to know right away.

And now, it had, all thanks to that fucking Ser Criston. Daemon wanted to take Caraxes and order him to roast that mongrel alive. All because of a simple injury, as you had so kindly called it. He could not even justify it to himself, but he would do it.

He would do it for you.

You did not understand why Daemon seemed so livid.

“Daemon,” you tried to calm him, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he declared, voice rising, “It’s not okay.”

He slowly made his way to you, and kneels, intertwining your hands, and resting them on your legs. “Something happened to you, and I wasn’t here.”

You two had always been close, so you were not entirely taken back by his actions. But this had an unspoken gravity about it. It feels like more.

His white-golden locks fell in front of his face, as he rested his head on your knees.

“Daemon,” you ran your fingers through his hair, admiration rippling through you.

“If something worse had happened,” his grip on your hand tightened, “I don’t know what I'd do.”

Your heart swelled at that. You had the same sentiment towards him. If anything were to happen to Daemon…

“Somehow I think,” you placed a gentle hand on his chin, bringing his eyes to meet yours, “you would be okay in the end. You are a Targaryen, after all.”

He rose, and sat next to you, keeping your hands together.

“You don’t understand,” Your breath caught in your throat, as he stared at you, “Without you, I would not be.”

It was true, as you had perhaps always known.

He has always been your Daemon.

You allowed yourself to bask in the glow of the moment, until he reached for your face, and slowly, glided his thumb over your lips.

He leaned in, and your lips touched. Still at first, but falling into gentle yet needy caresses, your face tightly held in his.

The room seemed to spin, and your injury was forgotten.

There was only him, his lips dancing with yours. This was a dance with a dragon, one whom you would let engulf you completely.

You broke apart, still ever so close, and smiled warmly at each other.

A moment later, he leaned down to place a kiss on your stitches.

“Hmm,” he looked at you cunningly, “well, time to break Ser Criston’s balls.”

You let out a laugh, and his eyes light up at the sound, at the expression on your face, which he has always loved.

“My sweet girl.”

the end

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #endless oneshots

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themotherofblood · 1 year

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Can I request a Daemyra X daughter reader. Readers really quiet and barely talks to anyone even her parents. So Daemon and Rhaenyra are suprised when she comes to them all hot and bothered babbling about sex and such. And she tells them she was reading in the library and found a book about masturbation or something and she tried to do it but it didn’t work.

Breastfeeding and of course mommy/daddy kink

heheh this one is so filthy, YALL did not hold back!! Just by description whoever is reading; you already know it’s taboo as fuck, I will post individual warnings under here. Istg if I get one single ask saying you are so disgusting. I going to wish you eternal diarrhea for life 🤍

Masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

major tw: incest! infantilism, lactation kink/breastfeeding. major mdlg/ddlg vibes. lots of clit play (LIKE A LOT) squirting, kinda dubcon-ish, age gap and purity culture and aftercare because I’m not a monster

If this isn't your cup of tea, I have others, do not come at me :)

Rhaenyra had sat the court in her own chambers with her husband, Daemon looked behind her chair as they converted with their vassal lords at Dragonstone of politics and economical benefits and more mundane businesses of fixing toeholds and inkeeps. Their children undoubtedly had all been out dragon riding, all expect one. They were sure she was hidden somewhere deep in the libraries of Dragonstone.

You were one of true beauty, fathered by Daemon on some tavern wench; when he found out about your existence he had brought you back to Dragonstone as a babe after you had been legitimized by Viserys. A quiet mouse in the claws of dragons, a mere girl of eight and ten. You never said much or spoke over a whisper, an angel child with silver whisps of the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra had always been taken with you; her own children ran such a muck in her household that having one that sat still for hours at an end was a blessing by the gods.

“The Queen Alicent hopes to find a match for Lady Y/N,” The maester said hesitantly as he placed the parchment by Rhaenyra.

“Oh fuck that, she isn’t going anywhere.” Daemon barked.

Rhaenyra considered the possibility, you were old enough to be wed and yet she feared that your quiet demeanour would be squandered under the weight of a loveless marriage; Daemon was right, you could remain here where both Daemon and she could protect you. Such a sweet thing out in the world, it was cruel. The council dispersed as Rhaenyra lounged with a warm cloth on her swollen breasts, milk making them sore as baby Viserys had already been fed.

Then in walked Septa Marlow, her veiled face that remained pinched as always and her unkindly eyes looking furious as you- their sweet daughter followed behind with your eyes fixated on the ground.

“Your grace, your grace,” She offered her courtesies to both Rhaenyra and Daemon. It wasn't unusual for her to complain about the princess’s children. However your guilt-ridden face was a rare occurrence.

“What has happened?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to her teary eyed daughter.

“I had found the princess in the library reading- reading filth!” Septa Marlow hissed “Enganging in sin!”

“What sin?” Daemon perked up, rounding the table to lean against it

“Must- must I elaborate my prince?” Septa Marlow grew uncomfortable, fumbling to find words.

“You come in here, accusing my daughter of something. Speak it plainly then.” Daemon said, unimpressed at the the Septa’s chaste words

“She- she was coupling with herself.” Marlow looked as though she was ready to grace the gods. Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to you, tears of shame fell past your eyes as they remained fixated on the stone floor. You refused to look at your parents.

“Thank you for your report, leave us,” Rhaenyra commanded. The septa took her leave, closing the door behind her with a thud.

There was thick silence that followed, leaving the room in a delicate situation.

“Y/N, look at me.” Rhaenyra said, shuffling further into her seat. “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“I- I was looking for newer books,” You began stammering, your voice, as usual, was barely over a whisper “I couldn’t help it, I felt warm and the book said- I am sorry mother, I am sorry.” Your bottom lip wobbled as guilty tears coated your face.

Daemon’s eyes softened, looking at his little girl sobbing for apologies as if you had stolen candy, such a good girl and the poor thing had not a clue of why you felt what you felt. Daemon pointed to the vacant chair next to Rhaenyra for you to sit. You sniffled, still refusing to look at Daemon as you sat on the chair.

“You are growing sweet girl, it is only natural you feel such urges,” Rhaenyra cooed as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Daemon knelt down to match your height, wiping at the tears coating your reddened cheeks

“No one shall punish my zaldrititos,” He said in attempt to stop your silent cries, you kept shuffling in your seat; yanking at your skirts and yet the fear- more so the discomfort from your face just wouldn’t fade “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I-it hurts,” You whispered as your eyes closed in shame again.

“What hurts?” Daemon asked once more, looking over your body to find any visible mark, if that hag of a Septa laid a punishment on you without him knowing; Caraxes was sure to have a fine meal for supper tonight.

“My- my...” You shuffled more, pulling at the skirts around your crotch, it was only then it dawned on Daemon before he looked back to his wife. His heart filled with fire for the girl’s frustrations.

“You didn't peak, did you zaldritos?” He said with adoration in his voice as he caressed your cheek. She looked up at him, teary-eyed and confused “That warmth in your belly like a sneeze stuck in your nose?” He watched as your eyes pondered his explanation before you shook her head.

Rhaenyra tutted behind him, “Oh, you poor thing.” She got up, offering his daughter her hand. You followed Rhaenyra as you were led into their bed chambers. She helped you onto their martial bed, your feet dangling of the edge as you fiddles with your fingers.

“Won’t you show us where it hurts?” Rhaenyra urged.

Daemon nearly felt his cock twitch in his breeches as his wife coaxed his daughter to rest against a mount of pillows. Daemon cleared his throat as he walked to the bed. His daughter’s eyes were nervously darting between him and Rhaenyra; your breath quickening as Rhaenyra pushed your pretty white sandals off.

“Good girl, just let mother take care of you,” Rhaenyra said in a sing song voice, she pushed your legs to the side; making you lift your hips to the bunch your skirts by your hip. Tears of embarrassment began to pour from your eyes yet again.

“Oh- that old hag didn’t even let you put your small clothes on,” Daemon shook his head, breath hitching as he looked right at the glistening mess in between your legs; he moved to kneel right by you as he urged Rhaenyra’s to console their daughter. “That does look painful.” He tutted.

Your pink bloom shielded by a dainty mound of white wisps, groomed to perfection to be a proper lady. He let a finger trail around your outer folds making you shudder. “Show kepa how you touched yourself.” He said stroking your inner thighs.

You nodded in disagreement, trying to hide your face at the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck as you sat flush between his wife’s legs.

“How are we to help you if you won’t show us sweet girl,” Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she guided your hands to your folds. “Be a good girl, show us.” Your dainty fingers began to hesitantly rub at her glistening petals.

You nearly wanted to be swallowed whole as you averted your gaze away from your kepa, small mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips that set both Rhaenyra and Daemon’s blood on fire. The frustration in their daughter's eyes grew further as your hips began to grind against your hand, a fruitless effort at best as your nimble fingers grew tired. He watched as her bottom lip wobbled again as angry tears began to flood at your eyes.

Daemon stopped your hand, his much larger one engulfing yours, fine little princess had not a clue about eliciting pleasures from one’s body.

“There is something wrong with me,” You whimpered to which Rhaenyra immediately differed.

“There is nothing wrong with our little girl, you just require a demonstration,” She cooed, reaching forward to wipe your tears. “Watch your father, he shall make it all better.”

Daemon made you stick two fingers out, your pointer and middle and gently placed them above where you had been caressing. You were confused until he pushed down on your fingers making you gasp, that’s where it was- the aching throb that bother you for hours as you read that God-forsaken book. Daemon smirked at your reaction as Rhaenyra placed more kisses at the side of your face

“Now gently begin again, darling.” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear.

“Yes, mommy,” You replied, much like as she taught you to write when you were little or took you dragon riding.

You began to rub the right circle above the please-inducing flesh, following the slow motions your father guided above your hands. Your toes curled, finding comfort in the gentle stroke on your arm and legs by three hands. You bit your lip hard to muffle the moans threatening to rip through.

“Ah uh- let us hear them little girl,” Daemon reached forward to pull your lip from you teeth. “That feels much better, does it not.”

You eagerly nodded “So good daddy.” You squirmed in your mother’s hold.

Both Rhaenhra and Daemon took much leisure in hearing you moan and whimper for them, a girl that barely speaks a word to them was wantonly moaning and replying to every word they uttered to you. A subtle panic ran through your body as you get that warmth build in you belly again, for whatever awaited you on the other end never seemed to come to you. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra felt your body seize.

“You must soften your body, just as you relieve yourself in the morrow.” She said, rubbing at your arms. You free hand parting away to take ahold of something, Daemon reached forward, entangling your finger in between his.

“Let go, zaldritos- be a good girl,” He cooed, some string in your mind snapped over your father’s command and you felt the tingles trapped in your swollen nerves spread through your body as you shrieked. Daemon hand held onto your tight as your body shuddered through it pleasures.

You could feel yourself look back to consciousness where everything didn't sound so muffled; you could feel your kèpa petting your hair and your muña peppering kisses down your neck. You blinked your eyes open, still breathing heavily, a lazy smile spreading over your lips her your cheek burned in humiliation over how you came undone for them.

“Must have felt so good,” Rhaenyra hummed as she lifted your fingers to her mouth and suckled on them before letting Daemon savour your taste.

“Mhmm, such a glorious delicacy,” Your father cooed at you.

You felt him shuffle lower, his breath hitting your sensitive mound as your eyes shot open. “So sensitive,” He used his thumb to gently circle your peaking bud from its hiding. He pushed your folds further exposing the reddened bud to the known world. “Such a tiny thing giving you all that pleasure,” He tapped at the exposed bundle of nerves making your jerk against Rhaenyra’s hold.

Daemon looked up, giving you a hardened gaze of a warning. Your father wasn't a strict man, and yet you always wanted to please him. You followed the rules, you finished your meals whole and went to bed at a proper hour; you under no circumstances wanted to anger him.

He let out a cool blow of air from his lips right onto your nerve, making you dig your hands into the sheets to not flick away from him. “It still looks frustrated, does it not Rhaenyra?”

“Yes, yes it does.” She agreed with her husband, letting her soft fingers pad at your nerves, you pathetically whimpered at how sensitive you were but did nothing to fight her advance. She began rubbing circles at your clit once more as Daemon rested on his knees, watching your untouched weeping hold clench and relax over the ecstasy you were in.

“Is your muña making you feel good?” Daemon asked, his fingertips still caressing your legs.

“kessa...Kessa!” You shrieked as Rhaenyra began to rub at your nerves faster, your legs tightened trying to fight the oncoming surge of sensations. The overwhelming sensations again began to water your eyes as you clothed onto Rhaenyra’s arm for dear life.

“Ah...there it is- such a good little girl,” Rhaenyra praised as your cunt spasmed, your legs shaking as your peak consumed your being yet again.

Daemon’s fingers yet again found your cunt, spreading your lips apart to admire your quivering little num, his fingers flicked at the flesh as you still recovered from the aftershocks of your second peak, you fought against them this time; your pussy was unable to take any more of this torment. Daemon pointed at you.

“Kepa deserves a turn, does he not?” He cooed, you still squirmed under his hold trying to wriggle yourself free “Whether you want it or not little girl.”

“One more riñītsos,” Rhaenyra kissed your cheek.

“Daddy- I will die,” You exaggerated, frightened tears spilling from your eyes as the tingles running through your nerves became far too over powering

“You won't die silly girl, kepa and muña will never let you die.” Daemon chuckled, Rhaenyra pushed forward to his down your abdomen as Daemon clutched a tight hold under your knees as he prepared to feast on his babyslut’s cunt. That quivering red little rosebud just begging to be in his mouth. He spat on your cunt before latching himself directly onto your bundle of nerves.

This time you screamed, the loudest anyone might have ever heard you in your lifetime. Rhaenyra consoled you, pampering your skin with her lips as she whispered words of encouragement in your ear. Just as a mother specified its child, Rhaenyra pushed the fingers she used in your cunt in your mouth; muffling your desperate cries as you suckled on them; tasting the sweetish sour slick on her fingers.

Daemon pushed your hood out even further flicking his tongue right under the hood, making you cry louder “Aw riñītsos, is that the very tingly part, is kepa licking your sensitive bit?” Rhaenyra shuffled the top of your gown down, letting your perky breasts spill free. She rolled your hardened pebbles in between her spare fingers. It was far too much, you were going due, you were sure of it. You tummy hurt from his hard you were clenching.

Daemon wanted nothing more than to feel his fingers in your untouched velvety core, yet he wanted your maidenhead unspoiled; something he planned on claiming him on a later occasion. Perhaps your forthcoming name day, he would pamper you old day just so he could watch your little body sob underneath him.

Daemon tapped at you clit “So tingly all over,” He piped, mocking your tears before rolling the nub in his fingers “We are making you feel so good, what do obedient ladies say sweet girl? What's the word?” He gently pinched at the red nerve. You were trying to muster the word at the tip of tongue yet couldn't over the incessant mocking.

“Aw, my love- her little nub is so red, our princess is so sensitive isn't she.” She pinched your nipples harder.

“What the word zaldritos?” Daemon laid a spank on your mound making you scream out the word over your mother’s fingers

“Thank you, thank you- krimvose,” You sobbed,

“Good girl,” Both Daemon and Rhaemhra praised in unison as kepa began rubbing at you clit harder before latching himself on one last time.

“So many tingles- I know, a few more,” Rhaenyra held on tighter to your thrashing “Oh dear- there- oh look at the mess riñītsos!”

Your peak gushed all over the bed, coating Daemon’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You were dying, you were sure of it. Daemon and Rhaenyra at both smiled at each other triumphantly as their parental instincts took over.

Daemon lifted his tunic off his body, using it to wipe at your drenched thighs and mound and helping Rhaenyra off the bed and onto her cushioned arm chair before gently placing you onto her lap. He wrapped the two of your with a blanket before yanking the wet sheet of their bed and crumpling it to the floor.

Servants began to pour in to find a perfect picture of a family where a daughter took comfort in her mother’s arms before bed and the father readied himself for bed. He had them rekindle the fire for you, even with dragon’s blood running in your veins you were some how always cold. Only once the servants took their leave, Daemon kneeled at your level as both him and Rhaenyra fussed with your gown.

“You were so good for us riñītsos,” He cooed as he helped you stand, he yanked once more on your gown; letting it pool by your feet.

You rested your weight against him as Rhaenyra ran a warm watered cloth against your body, she reached in between you legs to clean and you whimpered

“I know, sweet girl. Almost done.” She coaxed.

“From now on, whenever you feel the tingles. You come straight to us zaldritsos.” Daemon said as he caressed your head against his shoulder, you lazily nodded “Words, my girl.”

“Come to you for tingles.” You mumbled.

Once all was said and done, Rhaenyra found a solution for her swollen breasts as you regressed further, she freed a breast from her sleep shift, opening her arms out in bed for you to lay in. You lazily latched at her nipple as spurts of sweet milk filled your mouth, you hummed; hungrily drinking from her as Daemon undid the bed curtains before joining his girls in bed. He picked out a book; one of your favourites for him to read out for you.

That night you dozed in between you parents arms, tummy full of milk as your mother cuddled your bare body from one end and your father from another.

It was an unsaid rule, parents never pick a favourite child and yet it would be written in history that their riñītsos was definitely the golden girl.

2K notes · View notes

houseofhyde · 1 year

Text

i. a game of westerosi whispers.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. the five rumours about you that made the rounds amongst the court and the five times your uncle taught you to use them as a weapon. read part two here!

warnings. niece!reader, targcest, canon misogyny, mentions of infertility and starvation, attempted rape (not daemon), kinda manipulative behaviour from daemon ig, angst, fluff, smut (heavy petting, fingering, dry-humping). disclaimer!! reader + rhaenyra's age may not be accurate to the time of events but i don't feel comfortable writing about daemon going after a minor, so just roll with it.

word count. 5.5k

taglist. @nyctophilic0vitnir

hyde's input. i wrote this on a whim with no clue what the actual plot was gonna be other than the last sentence, so enjoy whatever this clusterfuck of words is. ngl, i felt a little iffy writing targcest but hey, at least it serves as a reminder that i’m 100% not into this shit irl. also, thank you so much for the reaction towards my first (and only other) daemon fic, dressed in white, i'm completely shocked at how many people actually read it and enjoyed it. you're all cute for giving it notes :(

bearing the targaryen name was as much a burden as it was a blessing.

while on one hand it came with dragons and power, on the other it came with prying eyes and hushed gossiping. it was a fact of life: as sure as the sun would rise come the morning, a targaryen’s name would be the centre of the capital’s gossip.

so, why on earth would you ever have believe yourself exempt from this rule, solely on the grounds that you were the second born daughter and not the apple of your father’s eye?

the first rumour was always the worst.

“i heard she threatened to feed herself to her dragon after the king named her sister as his heir.”

“no doubt that’s how she claimed inheritance over dragonstone!”

it hadn’t mattered that you’d never wanted, nor asked, for dragonstone, just the same as it didn’t matter that you’d happily cheered your elder sister’s future ascent to the dreaded iron throne. the ladies and lords who filtered through your father’s name-day feast had staked their claim over the truth, all so humoured by the thought of you, screaming like a small babe and stomping your foot like a spoilt brat, threatening your father with violence against yourself, that they failed to search for the source of such gossip, blindly believing it for the sake of a laugh and fuel to strike up a conversation within the great hall.

like wildfire, the rumour did spread.

lords whispered it into the ears of their dance partners, ladies who would then make their way back to their tables to share the news amongst those sat around it, all of whom would retire to their chambers and muse upon your supposed temper tantrum with their maids and knights, who’d filter out into the streets of king’s landing and spread the word like it were a plague, till even the rats in the sewers were aware of your untrue outburst.

by the next morning, you were branded the scorned princess.

“gossip is where truth goes to die.” he’d startled you out of your own self-pitying thoughts, back pressed up against the tree in the godswoods and book laying open across your knees, not a single page turned in what had to have been well over an hour.

“uncle,” clutching at your heart, your dizzied fright had blinded you to the way the man above you burned his eyes into what little he could see of your developing bosom. with the summer heat in full-swing, you’d taken to lowering the necklines of your dresses and the prince had taken to despising that you’d once dared to hide such a delectable sight beneath layers of clothing. “’tis not wise to sneak upon a woman armed.”

a charming smirk branded his face as you tugged the hem of your dress half-way up your leg, shamelessly letting him gaze upon your supple skin and the dagger sheathed in it’s own miniature scabbard against your calf.

a gift, on the name day in which you had turned ten and seven, from the very man who casted a shadow over you now. (”you told me you wanted a piece of old valyria, little dove. so there you go, your very own valyrian steel.”)

“just the same as it ‘tis not wise to sulk in public spaces, niece.”

“i was not sulking!” the book snapped shut as you rose to a stand, defensive in the way you held it pressed to your chest. his jaw clenched, what little morals he owned swallowing down whatever undesirable comment he had for you newly covered breasts.

his attention redirected itself to your mouth, lips red from the way you'd shamelessly gnawed upon them through all your distressing thoughts, the bottom one jutting out against your own consciousness.

“my brother’s new born babe aegon pouts less than you.” daemon mused, hand reaching out to swipe his thumb over your puckered petal, teasing himself with what they’d feel like pressed against his own. “if your concern is the whispers, ignore them. the cunts in your father’s court mean only to make themselves believe you are lesser than them. they’ll tire by the morrow and move on to someone else in our house to discuss, nyke kivio ao bisa.” i promise you this.

daemon was glad you’d never read into his words too much that day, least he’d have to admit to feigning a drunken state and causing a scene in a brothel that very night just to get your name out of their mouths.

the second time you found your name floating the keep’s halls was a few years after the first.

“they say the princess scarcely bleeds. barren, that’s what the grand maester called her.”

“regardless, she lacks the shape of a proper woman. i’ve seen men with hips more apt for childbearing than her’s.”

once more, no one took notice of the times your handmaidens had stripped your bed clean of bloodied sheets, nor did they pay mind to the fact you’d rushed out your father’s wedding to alicent hightower, dress sporting a bloodied stain and eyes filled with tears of embarrassment.

the scorned princess being also the barren princess? it made for a better story than the truth: a combination of stress induced starvation and lack of sleep had lead to an irregularity with your moon’s blood.

the room around you had long ago emptied itself of guests, those who remained behind either too drunk to make it out of their seats or in too high a spirit to retire to bed.

you were one of the former, head resting against your crossed arms which had found purchase on the table. never having been fond of drinking, it had only taken a few cups of dornish wine to render you inebriated, and thus your pity party had began, lamenting your own withering reputation to whichever poor, unfortunate family member had been a great enough fool to sit themselves next to you.

“father thinks me ruined, hic,” your sentence paused to make space for your drunken hiccups, which served to cover up the little sobs your body shook out. “i heard him speaking to the hand about how he’ll never, hic, find someone to marry a, hic, princess who can not, hic, give any heirs. ziry emagon daor gīda eptan issa, hic, lo ziry iksos drēje!” he has not even asked me, hic, if it is true.

“ao gīmigon skoros ao jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon, byka dove?” you know what you need to do, little dove?

you shot up straight, no longer caring that your face was stained in tears, mind too busy wondering why daemon had been sat next to you and was not off with some whore, indulging in a victory fuck to mark the end of the celebrations for his return as king of the stepstones.

you voiced your curiosity, hand instinctively curling around his own as he reached out for you, the scraping of his chair ringing in your ears when he inched himself closer.

“can i not want to spend time with my niece?”

“yes but we, hic, already broke our fast together this morning.”

“and yet i never managed to speak with you, your father was too busy with his gloats on my return.” he spoke no word of lie, the king had been an unstoppable force of laughter and joy ever since daemon had given him his crown and the crabfeeder’s sword. a part of you had been endeared, watching how he reminisced on his and his brother’s younger days, filling daemon’s cup with wine every time it had emptied, a smile on his face like no other you’d seen since the passing of your mother. “now, you’ve yet to answer my question.”

“your, hic, question?”

“you make for an endearing drunk, little dove.” giving your hand a gentle squeeze, there was nowhere for you to hide from the fondness in his eyes as he brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips, brushing them over the expanse of your knuckles. a chill ran down your spine and a fire lit within your loins. “my question was regarding those who speak on your fertility, or supposed lack thereof. do you know how you must handle this?”

“if i did, do you believe i’d have, hic, made myself so familiar with the wine this evening?”

the prince laughed, you smiled. something sinful flowed through your veins as you took note of his posture, how his whole body was pointed towards you, how his back hunched over enough for him to lean down and level his eyes with yours, how he didn’t seem to take notice- or, if he did, didn’t seem to care- of the remaining guests stares being glued to you both, analysing each detail of your interaction.

“and here i thought you’d turned to drinking to cope with the absence of your favourite relative in these past years.”

“i accepted corlys', hic, absence years ago, kepus.”

“just for that,” he pushed his chair back, hand dropping your own as he stood and straightened out his wrinkled clothing. “i shan’t be telling you what to do about these rumours.”

before he could walk away from you, your hand shot out and grasped at his wrist, foolishly believing you carried the physical strength to hold him in place.

“no!” you were certain everyone who remained in the hall had heard your panicked exclamation, but it mattered little as the desperation to have him near, to have him guide you, to have him tell you how to make everything better took over your sanity. “please, i only, hic, jest! tell me what to do.”

for what felt like an eternity, and was only a mere few seconds, daemon stared down at you, blank in the face. his eyes narrowed in on the tear tracks down your cheeks, and an unspoken- and impossible- vow was made in that instant: he’d pay any price to ensure you’d never cry again.

“what you need to do, niece,” he leaned down, till his lips were near pressed against your ear, ghosting over it with his hot breath and the faintest brush of his moving mouth. “is make sure your future husband fucks you so full of his seed that no one dares question your capability of carrying on the targaryen lineage.”

there still remained plenty a drunken fools and dancing buffoons by the time you decided to retire for the evening, yet you payed no mind to their wandering eyes as you let daemon guide you out the hall and escort you back to your chambers.

you’d awoken the next morning to an aching head and a burning cheek, unsure of whether daemon had pressed his lips against it before bidding you goodnight or if that was but a drunken dream.

the third rumour came not shortly after.

“did you hear about the princess and ser criston? apparently she’s requested he train her in combat.”

“the only combat she wants is within his bed.”

no one cared to enquire on the truth of why a young princess would request to be trained in the arts of the sword, just the same as no one cared to address the fear you’d been left with after an attack on your life within your own chambers, when a knight, angered with his dismissal from the city watch after breaking his vows of chastity, had decided to seek revenge on the king on a personal level, a fatherly level: stripping his daughter of her purity.

your night dress was nothing but torn rags and his breeches were halfway down his legs by the time ser criston had burst into the room.

and though he may have failed at stealing your virtue, he’d succeeded in stealing your safety.

the first few nights, you found no comfort in your own bed, seeking out your elder sister and crying into her welcoming arms till your body grew tired from the sobs and your eyes had dried up. your return to your own chambers had been under certain conditions, your father unwilling to risk putting you in harm’s way again, and thus a collective of knights stood post outside your door at all hours of the day.

none of it made any difference when you fell asleep, however, your slumbering mind taking to bombarding you with nightmares of sweaty palms on your skin and the putrid smell of the knight’s breath as he forced himself atop your helpless body.

when you’d asked ser criston to educate you in manning a sword, he’d taken no interest in asking for a reason, understanding what had been ailing you without you having to relive it through verbalising it.

he was surprisingly patient with his teaching, not caring for the number of times he’d need to repeat himself, nor the plethora of time you’d struck him in the face with the wooden training sword he’d bestowed you with.

but ser criston did not go easier on you, did not lessen the blows he’d deliver your way on account of you being smaller, frailer, nor for the simple fact that you were the princess. he pushed your face into mud, he bruised your skin with his blows, he worked you till you were short of breath and drenched in sweat. all in all, you’d believed him to be a great teacher. perfect, even.

until you found yourself disarmed, a boot digging into your shoulder to keep your back pinned to the ground below and the end of a sword barely gracing the skin of your neck.

“ziry kostagon daor hīlagon nykeēdar gīda lo ziry ropatas hen hen nykeā lōgor.” he could not hit water even if he fell out of a boat.

the heel of daemon’s boot dug further into your shoulder, unknowingly grinding into a bruise you’d earned two days prior, a fair price you’d payed to at last disarm ser criston for the first time.

the man above you glared down in your direction as a series of giggles erupted from your chest, the man already irritated from hearing how you’d taken to training with the cunt in shiny armor.

“ziry kostagon’t sagon sīr quba, lo ziry pyghagon ao isse se tourney.” he can’t be so bad, if he beat you in the tourney.

“urnēbagon ziry, byka dove, ao kostagon find aōla zālagon lo ao tymagon rūsīr perzys.” watch it, little dove, you may find yourself burnt if you play with fire. as if to punctuate his threat, he pushed the edge of dark sister harder against your skin and you felt the unmistakable sting of skin prying itself apart under the sharp pressure. the faintest line of red trickled down the back of your neck, staining your skin and straining daemon’s breeches, much to your own unawareness.

“īlon’re zaldrīzoti, keepus. perzys kostagon daor ōdrikagon īlva, mērī excite īlva.” we’re dragons, uncle. fire can not harm us, only excite us.

the next few moments passed in silence, save for the occasional screech of a bird or the rustling of leaves in the wind. and all the while he was gazing down at you, eyes hooded and chest heavy with each breath. he was contemplating something and you longed to know what.

it went far beyond a longing to know, you wanted to be in his mind, wanted to split his skull in two and burrow yourself in whatever space he may have left for you, taking up as much of his mind as you physically could.

meanwhile, he thanked any god who may exist that you had no insight into his maddening thoughts, safe to imagine you laid out atop his bed and with his hand around your throat rather than the blade of his sword, every rise and fall of your chest punctuating another delicate whine for him to swallow with his own deranged grunts.

only after he’d sheathed dark sister once more did he speak.

“i will inform ser crispin of his dismissal from training you.” it was not a request but, rather, an order. the kind of thing you’d typically quarrel with your father over, yet with daemon you were too busy melting into a puddle under the warmth of his stern tone to care.

“and why,” as he interrupted your own efforts to stand, hand grasping your arm and swiftly pulling you to your feet like you weighed no more than a bird’s feather, you lost your footing, sending you barreling against his solid chest. he stood taller this way, your head having to tilt further back to hold contact with his eyes. “would you be doing that, uncle?”

“because you’ve no need for two swordsmen to train you. it’ll only lead to conflict in training methods.”

“how so?”

“ser crispin is a technical man, commanding the style in which you move and the strategies you must implore to predict his next blow.” his face inched lower, closer to yours and invaded your space in a way only he could. “my training is more... hands-on.”

the fourth rumour was the one you cared the least to disprove.

“i suppose it is only expected that she follow in her family’s tradition.”

“still, i do find it odd how she can lust after her own kin, her uncle! i guess not even the rogue prince’s niece is blind to his charm.”

perhaps the spiders around you were finally beginning to use their countless eyes, staring the truth in it’s face and choosing to spin their web of lies around it, a step forward from their usual habit of spinning straw into gold and staking barbarian claims against your honour.

if they were going to talk, least it be with some truth.

because while no, you had not begged daemon to bed you like the ladies claimed, nor had you followed him out of the castle and spied on his depraved actions in fleabottom as the lords had said, you certainly could not deny there was something going on.

from touches that lingered on the training grounds, your hands clinging onto him long after he’d pulled you back to your feet and his hands remaining on your cheek long after he’d whipped away the traces of dirt.

to public interactions deemed far too intimate for an uncle and his niece, even for the house of dragons. countless feasts passing where neither one of you were keen to take your eyes off each other, whether your bodies were pressed right up against one another in a dance or a sea of people stood between you both on opposite ends of the hall.

two tourneys, one for prince aegon’s first name-day and another for the upcoming marriage between rhaenyra and your cousin, laenor velaryon, and in each the events had played out the same: daemon would stride in on his steed, dressed in the most ridiculous armor one could find, and request your favour, boldly and unabashedly before every gossiping housewife and envious lord, only to defeat his opponents and ruffle some more feathers when declaring you as the queen of love and beauty.

which lead up to this moment in the throne room, the king looming large over both of you from the pile of swords despite his visibly worsened health, anger decorating his features as he spied the wreath of flowers upon your head, still present hours after the rogue prince had crowned you for the second time.

the first time, he’d overlooked it, laughed it off.

the second time, he’d felt his blood boil, shoved his second wife’s hands off him as she whispered in his ear of how his brother meant to ruin his daughter in the eyes of potential suitors.

if the king were half as smart as he was kind, he would have seen the truth in queen alicent’s worries.

“please, father, don’t be so ridiculous! daemon has merely been training me.” you had the nerve to smile at him after he lay the allegations of your indecent meetings at both your feet, trampling them under your pretty words as though they were far too implausible to even entertain with anger.

“i thought ser criston was aiding you with your sword skills.” your father replied, his full-fingered hand curling over the edge of his armrest and supporting his weight as he leaned forward, as though to get a closer look at you.

“there was a conflict of interest.” daemon answered in your place, to which viserys scoffed and kept his eyes on his daughter.

“how so?”

“his methods, i did not find myself... responding as well as i do to daemon’s.” it was only a half-lie, for while you would still argue that ser criston was just as skilled with a sword as daemon, there was no competition when it came to who could hold your focus. in ser criston’s lessons, you’d counted down the minutes till you were free to rest, while with daemon you would often implore him to skip whatever small council meeting required his presence and remain with you on the field. “i have grown good enough to disarm him, though my uncle denies it happening.”

“‘tis my niece who negates the truth of how the rain that soaked us both lead to my sword slipping from my grasp.” the king watched, disgruntled, as daemon spoke towards you, holding you captive in his gaze in a way that was dangerously easy, a power the monarch could recall his beloved first wife held over him. “what she showed was an act of luck, not good swordsmanship.”

when neither three of the targaryens spoke, the echoes of celebrations within the gardens began to travel through the air, as if to mock the king, reminding him that he should be out there celebrating the union of not only his daughter but the realm’s alliance with the lord of the tides becoming stronger than ever, instead of trapped within the seat that brought him nothing but gripe and before his two political headaches- his brother the original, and his daughter the most recent.

the king heaved a sigh.

“very well, you’re dimissed.” he waved what remained of his hand, the stump where fingers once lived a sickening reminder of how his body was slowly falling apart. with a nod and a curtsy, you both made to leave the king’s presence, only for his voice to ring out once more. “not you, daemon. you and i need to discuss something.”

with you bidding them both goodbye, dress trailing behind you as daemon allowed himself to glance back just once, the doors slammed shut and trapped the two bother’s within.

viserys pulled himself off the throne, hardly feeling as a blade sliced through his decaying palm. while the king grew closer, daemon grew bolder, traveling up the steps and meeting his brother midway.

perhaps an act of kindness, to spare him the trouble of exhausting himself.

more likely a show of disregard, to remind him that he wasn’t one of the puny the lords who sat within the small council, ready to be pushed and pulled in whatever direction the king sent them.

“pray tell, brother.” the younger doned a smile and clasped his hands behind his back. “what is it we need to discuss?”

“my daughter.”

“i’m fairly certain it’s rude to discuss a lady when she is not pres-”

daemon was cut short, words dying as a sense of shock took over him upon viserys’ hands clasping the collar of his doublet.

“if i so much as hear of you putting your hands on my daughter without her permission, i’ll-”

“kill me? have me sent to the wall? turn me into a eunuch?” all sounded like awful outcomes, yet the prince wondered if getting his hands on you, even if it was just once, would make it all worth it. he decided not, for he was certain he would find no antidote to the poison of tasting you other than to taste you again and again and again, till his blood ran dry and his skin melted off his bones. “and if she permits me to? what if she is the one to put her hands on me?”

“then i will see to it that you both perform your duties as servants to the crown and have your affairs in order under the eyes of the seven.” he spoke like a king, distant and unfeeling, a man who’s only job was to lead the realm.

and so daemon graced him with an answer fit for a king.

“are you saying what i believe you to be, your grace?”

“yes. i’m saying i would wed you to her.”

the fifth rumour is when you decide enough was enough, the time had come to use their own love of gossip against them.

“the king’s expected to announce her search for a suitor soon.”

“i do pray for her future husband, whoever he may be. it’s doubtful he’ll find any joy married to such an ungrateful, infertile harlequin.”

every step you took that evening was calculated.

from the seat you sat at the royal table, trading your usual post beside rhaenyra for one next to daemon, to the number of lords you entertained with a dance and a laugh, three to be exact: one of them your soon-to-be brother by law laenor velaryon, another the son of the hand, ser harwin strong, a fierce knight and the object of your sister’s desires, and, lastly, cregan stark.

the stark was by far your father’s most favoured suitor when it came to your hand, anyone with a pair of working eyes could see. where his first born’s marriage had secured the relationship between the crown and the sea, his second daughter's would secure that of the capital and the cold, unfeeling north.

only, your father had made one fatal flaw in his game of chess: he’d mistaken you for a pawn, when in truth you were a rook, unwilling to be moved so easily.

betrayal was your initial reaction to the news of your father’s meeting with the starks, an encounter he had not even the good graces to include you in.

your second reaction was defiance.

and, so, you laughed with the stark lord, you let him refill your goblet as he spoke tales of his travels south to the capital, you danced with him before the entire court and stepped on his toes enough times till he politely dismissed himself, claiming he was in need of relieving his bladder before he left you in the centre of the dancing pairs.

just in time for him to swoop in.

“ao jāhor mazverdagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys, byka dove.” daemon wrapped you in both the safety of his arms and the use of your ancestral language, guiding you into the next dance. you will make a fine wife, little dove

“nyke pendagon lo issa valzȳrys jāhor agree rūsīr ao.” i wonder if my husband will agree with you.

matching the other couples, daemon commanded you to spin in his grasp, hands firm as one held onto yours and the other made repeated contact with your waist, spinning you faster and faster, till you tumbled over your own feet and had nowhere to turn to but his strong, dependable hold, hands splaying out on his chest as his own found rest upon your lower back.

even that was not enough for the man, who squeezed you closer to his own bod.

“you’re tired, niece.” the swirling pairs around you turned their heads at his voice, exaggerated in it’s volume as he at last addressed you in a way they understand.

“so very tired, uncle.”

“then i shall escort you to your chambers. the dark hallways of the keep are no place for such a defenceless lady.”

the weight of your father’s stare followed you out of the banquet halls, lungs only refilling with air when you round the corner that leads upwards, the steps to your own chambers lit with torches and manned by several guards who stood guard at your door.

the same guards who payed no mind to how you welcomed your uncle into your chambers.

the same guards who likely felt against their back the vibration of your own body slamming against the shut door.

daemon was a force to be reckoned with, hands coming down to cage you against the wooden surface and render you defenceless to the incoming attack against your mouth.

there was no patience in the way he kissed you, mimicking a man starved for weeks who’s at last been handed a morsel of bread. neither was there gentleness, lips moving with yours in a frenzy of clashing teeth and knocking noses. it was nothing like the books you’ve read, where a pretty princess at last convinces the honourable knight to kiss her, pulling back immediately to stare in bewilderment.

nor was it how rhaenyra had explained kisses to be: boring, unexciting, a waste of time.

daemon licked his tongue into your sweet mouth, chest shaking under your palms at the satisfied groan he released. you caught up with his pace, lips finally moving to the rhythm he’d set, no longer being lead but rather fighting to lead him in the dance of your mouths.

when he pulled away, the hunger in his eyes could only be levelled by that of his dragon’s as it flew into battle, thirsty to burn everything beneath it.

“ao issi tolmiot tolī gevie naejot sagon jurnegēre rȳ issa raqagon bona.” his voice lulled you out of your trance, confused, even if just for a moment, as he spoke to you in your blood’s tongue, instead of one the guards outside your door would understand. it dawned on you slowly that he spoke only for you in that instant. you are far too beautiful to be looking at me like that.

“raqagon skoros?” like what?

“raqagon nyke mazverdagon ao biare.” like i make you happy.

the prince wasted no time in stripping you bare, knowing he’d lose the ounce of little control he had left if he were to gaze upon your heaving breasts and your glistening cunt.

he settled for sneaking his hand under the layers of your skirt till he found his holy grail.

“you’re soaked, little dove.” he spoke in pure awe, as though he hadn’t lay with a thousand whores and tasted every kind of woman the realm had to offer.

daemon was no stranger to maidens nor the feeling of touching them, yet none had ever welcomed him in as much as you, no fear in your darkened gaze as you spread your legs further apart while the middle finger stroked over your velvet lips which dripped with honey and ached to suck his digit in between them.

it was as though you were made for him alone, body trained to take anything he’d offer, and he tells you so as he made contact with your aching bud, calming the buzzing nerves with slow strokes.

“is that nice, niece?” you nodded your head and were met with a disapproving look, quickly correcting yourself with a loud moan. “is kepus making your little cunt wet?”

“yes!”

he rewarded your precious reply with the breeching of your hole, his finger forcing it’s ways into your tight walls as he released his own noises of satisfaction.

the descent into madness was swift from then onwards, with daemon knowing only the feeling of your sticky walls clamping down on him as your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell slack would be enough to sedate him. one finger became two and he watched you mold yourself into the perfect little whore for him, unabashed to call out his name and beg for more.

“have you touched yourself before?” his breath was haggard, as if he was the one having his insides toyed with by you, chasing his inevitable peak with wanton groans and sporadic kisses to your throat, collarbones, chest. “or are mine the first hands to touch this precious cunt?”

when you hit your crescendo, it was with shaking limbs and desperate cries, hands having found home in the tresses of his hair, pulling on their roots as he kissed over your chest, fingers continuing their repeated assault on your entrance till your essence dripped down to his elbows and you shook your head in protest to his touch, his pretty baby too sensitive from her first peak.

he let his resolve slip moments after bringing his soaked fingers up to his mouth, the taste of you sending him to all seven hells and back for all the things he longed to do to you. arms caging around your frame, he lay his forehead to rest against yours as his hardness began to grind against your waist.

“just wait, my little dove.” even as he put on a show, he was mindful to sweet talk you with the names he called you, aware you were not ready yet for all the things he longed to call you, preferably as you lay face down in his sheets, your sweet flower on full display and ripe with honey for his taking. “wait till i paint your insides with my seed, filling your little womb up till it swells with my babe.”

much to his own preference, daemon shortly spilled within his breeches, soiling his clothing in an uncomfortable manner he'd need to clean up later.

in all his years he’s never fought as hard a battle as the one to lead you to bed, all the while you begged in your mother tongue for him to take you, for real this time, to fill you with his cock even after the sun had risen and the royal guards stormed your room demanding answers for the king.

as he finally parted ways with you, this time for sure pressing his lips to your cheek, daemon nodded curtly at your guards who refused to meet his eyes and he swallowed down his amusement, the walk back to his own chambers filled with only one topic: how long till the news reached the king's ears.

after all, the ladies of the court never were good at whispering.

#daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen imagine

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years

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DAEMON TARGARYEN MASTER-LIST

DAEMON X READER (MY OCS)

Happiest With You

A Risky Game

Runaway

Somebody I Used To Know

The Calm After The Storm

Everything Goes According To Plan

Fire & Blood

Stay With Me

Unforseen

DAEMON X LEYLA HIGHTOWER

Second Choice

Daddy’s Girl

Baby Blues

DAEMON X ELYS STARK

Unexpected

Moon Tea

Favourite Child

My Loyalties Lie With You

Haven’t I Given Enough?

Underestimate

DAEMON X RHAELLA TARGARYEN

Half-Blood Rivalry

SERIES

The Other Sister

He’s back

Jealousy, Jealousy

Dear Motherhood

A Mended Heart

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen ff #daemon targaryen headcanon #prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon x reader #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd daemon

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happilyhertale · 5 months

Text

Revealing council meeting - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Looking for your husband, you find him in the council chamber, already waiting for the other councillors to arrive. But you realise that the stress of the last few weeks is still weighing heavily on him...

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading! Oral (m receiving)

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A little one shot Daemon story that came out of fooling around with the lovely @autumnhymns – my other Daemon wifey. We both wrote this story without discussing exactly how, what happens... soo enjoy it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

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You open the ornate door to the small council chamber and exert overwhelming pressure with your small figure. The massive wood gives way with a quiet creak and grants you entry. The room unfolds before you - Daemon, who is at the centre of the room, has taken his usual place at the polished table. His forehead is furrowed with lines of concentration as he studies a parchment spread out in front of him.

At the sight of your husband engrossed in the affairs of the realm, a sense of worry flickers in your heart. Night after night you have lent him a patient ear, kneaded away the tension in his shoulders and endured his frustrations with the less competent members of the council. But tonight he is already waiting for the upcoming council meeting, and the look on his face is one of frustration.

You enter the room, and the door closes with a resounding bang. Daemon, momentarily startled by the abrupt closing of the door, looks up and his eyes meet yours with a mixture of surprise and fleeting vulnerability. However, this brief moment is quickly replaced by his characteristic composure. A subtle smile graces his lips, while your own smile reflects the shared recognition of a familiar connection.

You walk towards him, your dress rustling with every step. Next to him, you come to a halt, place your hand on his arm and gently caress his firm muscles through the fabric of his shirt. Daemon looks up at you, still smiling, "A sight for sore eyes is always welcome at the table..." he murmurs, "...I must admit I was expecting to see the other councillors"

You smile at him as his hand reaches up and lightly caresses your cheek, the look in his violet eyes meeting yours.

The stress in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed and now you frown.

"You've been very stressed lately, my love," you whisper.

Your hand glides up and down his arm and the feeling sends a slight shiver down Daemon's spine.

Like two magnets attracting each other, Daemon leans forward a little and you follow his movement - your lips meet gently. Until the kiss is interrupted slightly as you feel a smile forming on his lips.

"But you're right... I'm very stressed... Would you be kind enough to help me de-stress tonight?" he whispers against your lips.

You giggle slightly and shake your head gently. "You're impossible," you whisper, but his grin doesn't falter.

You gently take his face in your hands and your fingers glide over his rough skin as an idea occurs to you.

"Let me ease your stress, Daemon... Until the other council members arrive," you whisper, mirroring his grin.

Daemon chuckles lightly, "I think I like where this is going," he murmurs as his mouth glides along your cheek, paving the way with kisses. His hand moves to your bum and grips it lightly, kneading your soft flesh.

"I want you," Daemon whispers and nibbles lightly on your earlobe.

Your smile widens and without hesitation, you get down on your knees and Daemon looks at you, a little irritated, until you crawl under the table and take a seat between his legs. You smile at him and bite your lip lightly - hidden by the table and tablecloth, you start to undo his belt.

Daemon growls slightly, "Love... The others will arrive soon..." he whispers. But the bulge in his trousers says otherwise, pressing further and further against the fabric of his trousers as you begin to open his trousers.

"Then you'd better keep it down," you whisper cheekily in reply.

Daemon growls again and his hands clench slightly on the table. He's excited by what's in store for him, but at the same time he's a little distracted by the fact that the rest of the small council could walk in at any moment. He is torn between his duty and your body. The pull of his desire is stronger than the call of duty. He growls again, leans his head back a little.

You free his already hard manhood from his trousers and bite your lip even harder. Even after all these years of marriage, you can't get enough of that magnificent cock. You look at Daemon and notice him watching you again, the purple in his eyes unrecognisable. Your hand begins to glide lightly up and down his long shaft, feeling the familiar vein on his hot length.

Daemon hisses slightly and then you hear the door to the council chamber open and the other councillors enter the room. Low murmurs fill the chamber and you see Daemon look up.

But you don't stop.

He hisses again, but says nothing. He clears his throat briefly so as not to appear conspicuous. His hands are still gripping the edge of the table and he looks down at you with a mischievous smile. The other council members are chatting amongst themselves, barely paying attention to Daemon - and they don't notice you kneeling under the table. But the fact that you are not supposed to draw attention to yourself excites you both. Daemon is completely consumed with lust for you and another low growl escapes him as your hand continues to move up and down. His hips move slightly to create more friction. Barely noticeable, but you don't miss this slight movement as he tries to move his hips towards your hand.

The other council members greet Daemon briefly, but he only nods to them.

As the greetings of the other council members echo through the room, you lean forward slightly and enclose his hard member with your tender lips. Meanwhile, your eyes are fixed on Daemon as you gently suck on the tip of his cock. His eyes close briefly and he bites his lip for a moment.

The movements that follow make Daemon's hands grip the edge of the table even tighter. Up and down your head moves, wetting his hot length with saliva.

The voice of your father, King Viserys, rings out and now you know that the council meeting has officially begun.

Daemon is very busy suppressing other noises that could give you away, but he is still fully focussed on his feeling of pleasure. He tries to listen to King Viserys' words, but to no avail. Whatever your father is talking about is just background noise to him. In his mind, and compared to what you're doing with your tongue under the table, Viserys is talking about the most boring thing in the world.

While your gaze remains focussed on Daemon, watching his face closely, you move your head up and down slightly faster. As you hollow your cheeks a little and start sucking, a low moan escapes Daemon and your head suddenly bangs against the tabletop. Daemon gasps briefly, but reacts immediately and quickly slams his fist on the table. Viserys pauses for a moment and the other council members look at Daemon, but his expression gives nothing away. Viserys looks slightly irritated, but turns away from Daemon again and continues talking. Daemon exhales a little heavily and tries to look normal - but it's getting more and more difficult.

Your tongue slides around the tip of his cock while your hand glides up and down its length. The salty flavour of his precum is already spreading on your tongue. You suck on its tip again and your hand slides up and down faster. When a sudden violent twitch goes through Daemon's entire cock and you briefly lose him from your mouth. But Daemon suddenly leans back, gasps loudly and closes his eyes, and as your lips encircle his cock again, he reacts with another violent twitch. He can no longer control himself, an "Oh gods!" escapes his lips. The other councillors look in his direction, startled. When Daemon remembers where he is, he opens his eyes again. He looks at the irritated faces of the councillors. "Forgive me," he says quickly and clears his throat slightly.

"If you can't contribute to the discussion, then please shut up, Daemon," Viserys says to him, somewhat annoyed, and turns back to the others without waiting for an answer.

Your movements slacken briefly, but when the council members start discussing again, you resume your movements. It proves difficult at first, however, as you have to make an effort to suppress a slight laugh as you begin to suck again and listen to the council members' words.

Daemon closes his eyes briefly and feels the heat rising inside him. You know exactly what to do to him and how to do it - and it's driving him crazy right now. He moans slightly again and can barely sit still, finding it harder and harder to control himself as your tongue and lips work wonders.

But the slight moan leaves his lips again as the underside of your tongue glides over its sensitive tip - his cock twitches again.

King Viserys glances in Daemon's direction again, annoyed. Daemon coughs quickly, "It's... It's nothing," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Er... Just... I just had to think of something," Daemon mumbles. He looks down at you briefly and sees you trying to stifle a giggle as your lips still cup the tip of his member.

"Bloody hell," Daemon whispers to you, and he slides one of his hands under the table, into your hair. At first you think he's going to stop you, but his hand just stays in your hair as you take his entire length into your mouth. The council is discussing trade agreements with the free cities or something equally boring - Daemon only catches bits and pieces.

Viserys looks over at Daemon, raises an eyebrow questioningly and shakes his head slightly. Suddenly you gag slightly and your throat tightens around the tip of his hard manhood - Daemon hisses again.

"Well... Daemon..." says Viserys, now visibly annoyed and not just slightly, "Maybe you'll just listen and stop disrupting the meeting."

Otto Hightower suddenly chuckles slightly. Daemon's eyes fall on him and he gives him a snide look. The only reason that stops him from taunting him is that Otto has no idea what pleasure he's feeling right now. The way you're kneeling under that table right now to suck his cock and not even the cup bearer would do that for Otto.

You suck harder and another twitch runs through his hot length, you whimper slightly.

Daemon focuses on you again, feeling his body literally quiver as you continue to pleasure him, "Yes... I'll be quiet," he finally mumbles as he squirms slightly in his seat. His mouth is slightly open and he looks back down at you. The rest of the council resumes the discussion. Daemon glances over at Viserys and sees the annoyed look on his brother's face. But he averts his gaze just as quickly to focus entirely on what you're doing with your mouth. He leans back slightly; it's not easy to let yourself go completely, to savour the feeling of pleasure without letting on. He clutches the tabletop with renewed vigour.

More and more precum fills your mouth and you take his member deeper into your mouth. Almost pleadingly, you look up at Daemon, literally begging him to come in your mouth.

Daemon can't suppress the next hiss and you feel his hand suddenly tighten its grip in your hair.

The others are still talking about the politics of the realm, you just pay attention to the salty taste on your tongue and the way Daemon's breathing quickens. And just like you, Daemon doesn't care about anyone else at this moment. He is even more indifferent to the fact that he is in a room with the men who make the most important decisions for the realm. He growls slightly and tries to control himself. He squeezes your hair tightly in his hand and tries to hold back.

When Daemon groans again, Viserys speaks to him warningly. "Daemon. For the last time, if you have a problem, just say so," Viserys says angrily. But Daemon just shakes his head slightly. Viserys looks annoyed, but turns back to the others. Otto gives Daemon a suspicious look, but can't explain why he's behaving so strangely. Finally, he turns his gaze away and nods at Viserys.

But you are not distracted and continue to suck, Daemon's hand in your hair tightens and you feel his cock twitch violently. You look up at him again and the moment your eyes meet, the next twitch runs through him and you taste his cum. You can't suppress a slight whimper while your eyes are still focussed on him. Breathing heavily and groaning softly, he pours into your mouth.

The other council members are still chatting while you suck him off.

Daemon moans slightly again and looks down at you, his body shaking formally while your lips are still wrapped around him, but he feels relieved. He looks at you with a mischievous smile, "How does it taste, my love?" he whispers softly.

You smile and swallow all his cum. You lick his hard manhood clean, still smiling.

"Daemon, what did you say?" says Viserys suddenly. Everyone looks at him again. And before Daemon can answer, you crawl out from under the table. The others see you now and look shocked, a murmur of outrage goes through the council chamber - but Viserys is the most shocked of all. He stares at you, his daughter and Daemon in shock.

"Y/N?!" your father finally says.

But you just smile and stand next to Daemon, still a little dazed by the situation. You kiss him gently on the cheek, "You taste delicious, love," you whisper softly.

Everyone stares at you in disbelief, but you don't react to their stares. Daemon's arm goes round your waist, he pulls you gently towards him and whispers in your ear, "You're a cheeky girl and I love you for it"

You just smile and bite your lip. Until your father's voice rings out again and you are brought back to reality, "Y/N! This is not acceptable behaviour!"

You look at him now, "Forgive me, Father," you say quietly, feeling everyone staring at you. But you're not really sorry, you enjoyed it.

You smile at Daemon again, "I'll see you later, love," you whisper and turn to leave the council chambers.

Daemon's eyes follow you as you walk away. Even after you leave the room, his eyes remain on the door. He smiles and gives the other council members a smug look. When his eyes meet Otto's again, he smiles triumphantly, as if to rub his nose in what a great wife he has. He's never cared much for their opinion, and that's not going to change now.

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Tag list:

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

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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

Text

A FINE LINE (BETWEEN LOVE AND HATE).

Daemon Targaryen x female!Reader

"I would rather feed my sons to the Dragons, than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a King." Your husband’s words still lingered in the back of your head and drove you mad with fury.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; non/dub-con, canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, size kink, choking, size difference, oral (fem receiving), darkish Daemon Targaryen

WORDS: 1.9 K

“I would rather feed my sons to the Dragons, than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a King.” Your husband’s words still lingered in the back of your head and drove you mad with fury.

Two guards pushed the doors to the Chamber of the Painted Table open to reveal your husband standing in front of it with several members of your small council standing besides him, studying the map. Upon your arrival, everybody bowed their heads, muttering distinct “Your Grace’s” until your voice shushed them. “Leave us,” you announced, an unfamiliar sternness laced within your voice.

Once the doors fell shut and everyone was out, there was no holding you back.

You charged at Daemon, fury blazing in your lilac eyes. “You would do what!?” You all but yelled, and as if he was surprised by your outburst, the second son of Baelon Targaryen had to take a step back. “Feed your sons to our Dragons just to not have them at Aegon’s court?”

While the thought of Baelon and Viserys being present at the court of your half-brother was angering you, too, the thought of their father recklessly mentioning to feed them to Caraxes and Silverwing was frightening you.

Deep down you knew he would never go that far, but just that he deemed it appropriate to say something like that made your blood boil. Especially in front of the traitor Hand, Otto Hightower. You had married the so-called Rogue Prince back then, yes, but that did not mean he had to show that demeanor towards his children.

You stood between Daemon and the Painted Table, standing so close to him, your nose was almost brushing against the column of his throat with your head tilted upwards.

“Have you lost your mind!?”

In an instant, Daemon had herded you against the large table, the edge of it pressing firmly into your arse. The gleam in his eyes was mischievous, indicating that–even though you were the Queen–he was your husband and secretly the one in charge.

“Do not be an insolent brat,” chided his deep voice, sending a shiver down your spine. “You and I know we would never take it that far.”

You scrunched your nose in what one could muster as disgust at his choice of words and his demeanor towards you. “I dare you to speak about us in that consideration again,” your voice was sharp. “It was not I that said those things.”

“Gaoman daor care skoros emā vestās iā daor,” Daemon spat with venom laced within his voice, yet the slight twitching of his mouth indicated that he was amused by your fury. I do not care what you have said or not. “Nyke vestan ziry se nūmāzma ziry.” I said it and I mean it.

“That Hightower cunt does not deserve the satisfaction of extinguishing your claim to the Iron Throne, and having our children run around court as that halfwits squires. Dārilarossa issi.” They are Princes.

His large hands had made themselves at home on your waist, squeezing your flesh in a not-so-gentle manner to distract you from the topic at hand. But even though you gasped, it did not quite work.

You released a dry chuckle, only for him to clasp one hand around your throat instead. If it wasn’t for the unpredictability of his actions and words, you would have found it charming how he switched between the common tongue and High Valyrian while he spoke. But there was little to no charm whenever the Rogue Prince stood in front of you.

“Bisa iksis daor aōha iderennon naejot mazverdagon,” you warned with a strained voice, though you made no attempt to free yourself of his grasp–something in you clearly enjoyed that side of him. This is not your choice to make.

It seemed your words had hit something in him, because without saying anything else, he hoisted you up to sit upon the Painted Table, the warmth of the candles beneath seeping through your gown, and pressed your back flush down against the surface.

“Gaomagon nyke jorrāelagon naejot ivestragon ao bona ziry olvie olvie iksis ñuha iderennon?” His looming presence leaned forwards, towering over yours. With his tight grip on your throat you were not able to move, pinned to the table. Do I need to remind you that it is very much my choice?

“Kostilus,” you retorted, the same mischief flickering in the lilac of your eyes, that previously shone in his. Perhaps.

A smug smirk spread across Daemon’s features, and soon enough, he covered your mouth with his, licking into yours and kissing you deeply, standing in stark contrast to his previous demeanor. He waited until you were short of breath, forcing air into your lungs. “You are just as desperate as the other whores before you.”

When no response was forthcoming, Daemon loosened his grip on your throat slightly, letting you catch your breath.

You bared your teeth at him, but as much as you had to say, eloquence was not a strength of you in that moment, especially when he put you on one level with the countless women he had taken before you, “Nyke vēdros ao.” I hate you.

It was Daemon’s turn to chuckle, cocking an eyebrow at you. Deep down he knew you didn’t mean it, not when you always reminded him of just how much you needed and loved him. “Kesā vēdros nyke sīr olvie tolī istin iksan gaomagon lēda ao,“ he teased, raising an eyebrow at you. You will hate me so much more once I am done with you.

With one hand curled around your thigh–the skirts of your dress long bunched around your waist–he pulled you just a tad closer towards the edge of the table and into contact with his body, his hard member pressing against your clothed mound.

Defiantly, you buried your hand inside the tresses of his silver-blonde hair, dragging him down against your mouth. The kiss was sharp and hard, a scrape of teeth and the taste of blood which caused Daemon to growl against your lips.

He deepened the kiss and allowed your other hand to make quick work of the laces in the front of his breeches, freeing his hard member from its confines as you pushed his breeches barely down enough to free his stones as well.

When he withdrew his lips from yours, you couldn't stop yourself from pouting, followed by him tsking at you as if he was scolding a child. “Keligon bona.” Stop that.

Without sparing you another glance, he all but tore your smallclothes off your body, exposing your slick core to the cold air of the large chamber. As his finger brushed your mound, you bucked into his touch. “So wet, so needy, and not so bold anymore, mh?”

You huffed in return, and when your husband leaned forwards again, trailing hot kisses over the exposed skin of your low-cut neckline, you clasped your arms around the back of his neck to keep him right there.

The tip of his cock dragged through your folds in a teasing manner, barely pushing in only to pull out right away.

You were desperate for him to take you right there, and with the heels of your feet coming up to dig into his arse, it was you who forced him into your tight core in one, solid push. As Daemon groaned against your skin, you shuddered, arching your back into his body.

His cock stretched and filled you exactly how you craved, every notch and vein palpable and brushing the sensitive spot within your core.

With him being entirely in your grasp, it was your task to move, rocking and rolling your hips against his to get the angle just right, to seek the place that made you see stars. His hands settled on your thighs, gripping hard enough to surely leave some bruises.

Each of his grunts and groans was muffled by your skin, his mouth occupied with sucking and nibbling on it, leaving marks he would trace with his tongue in their wake.

The thrusts of his hips were off rhythm with your ministrations, meeting halfway but still amplifying the pleasure you both felt.

As he fisted your hair to tug your head sharply to the side to grant himself even more access to your neck, you gasped, the sound quickly replaced by a quiet moan.

“Nyke iēdrosa gaomagon daor shijetra ao.” I still do not forgive you.

Daemon chose to say nothing in return, which angered you even more. Tugging as harshly on his hair as he had tugged on yours before, you dug your nails of the other hand into the back of his neck, claiming him in your own way.

His other hand splayed across your belly, slowly grazing down to the apex between your legs, seeking your little bundle before his fingers started to circle around it.

You were so close and ground your hips against his fingers, reveling in the way he seemingly lost himself in the pleasure, too.

And then, a stinging sensation washed over you as Daemon pinched your pearl, the pain intense enough to have you peaking a few moments after. “Daemon!” You exclaimed a bit too loud, the following sounds shushed by his lips on yours.

Maybe it was the way you spoke his name in such surprise and despair, or maybe it was his own desire for you and the sweet relief, but his peak hit him shortly after yours, hips arching up as he spent himself inside of you.

Shards of pleasure, as sharp as the blade of Dark Sister, prickled through your body, intensifying with the twitching and throbbing of his cock. It shuddered through you like the repercussions of both your peaks, his panting just as loud as yours.

With one hand braced next to your waist, he propped himself up and studied your features with his softened gaze turning back to something sterner in the blink of an eye. You reached to cup his cheek with one hand, gently squeezing it to remind him of what you had said, and he just scowled at that.

“Emagon ao ryptan skoros vestan?” You asked as there came no reply. Have you heard what I said?

“Eman,” he said in an annoyed manner, tilting his head sideways. I have. “Kostilus kesan ērinagon ñuha dāria toliot lēda bisa.” Perhaps I can convince my Queen with this.

Daemon pulled out of you, tugging his flaccid cock back into his breeches, before he sank to his knees in front of the Painted Table—face on one level with your cunt. He admired the way his seed oozed out of your core, forcing it back inside of you with the pad of his thumb pushing it in.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him carefully, and the wink he flashed you sent shivers down your spine, more so when his mouth found your cunt.

The chuckle he released as you gasped vibrated through your core, diminishing the uncomfortable feeling of the overstimulation and igniting a new heat to fill your veins.

His tongue swirled over your pearl before he closed his mouth around it to suck, and your legs were draped over his shoulders as his tongue sent a burning pleasure straight through your core again, making you desperate for more.

Maybe his words were not as bad as you had thought after all.

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shuichiakainx · 3 months

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my-on-and-off-writingstuff · 1 year

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When pregnancy takes over | Daemon X Reader

Summary: based on this request: Hey, dear! if you are taking requests could i get a daemon x pregnant fem!reader, from discovery, to body changes, mood swings, weird cravings, difficulty finding a sleeping position, to delivery. Just him being a good husband and father and helping her regardless of the situation, with a lot of fluffy please?

warning: Cursing, child labor.

Daemon walks into the room he shares with you happy to be able to finally hold you in his arms after a long day having to listen to Otto Hightower go on and on about... Well, he did not remember. “Y/N?” he does not see you immediately and he scans the room and the adjoined bedroom but no trace of you. Neither can he find a note or something else that would point him in your direction. he reopens the door to the room and peaks around the corner in the hope of finding one of the servants or even better one of your maids.

However, the hallway was empty. He cursed under his breath as panic started to rise. You normally always left him a note or send someone to him to let him know where you were going to be. But he had nothing to go off now. He was wrecking his brain trying to figure out of you mentioned someone thing but as far as he knows you only mentioned going out riding but that was this morning, and you never were this late. Right? He was pacing the room trying to figure out where you could have gone. What if something happened to you?

“My prince?” As fast as he can he turns around to see one of your maids in the doorframe. Not remembering her name, he walks towards her. “Where is my wife? Tell me you have seen her!” “She went to the maester my prince, she left 15 minutes ago.” The maid’s eyes are wide while she is looking everywhere except at him words flowing from her mouth. The girl was starting to say something else, but Daemon just brushed past her running to the domain of the maesters nothing else than his wife on his mind.

Two guards were stationed in front of the door of the maester, guards he had assigned to her. At least he had found you however his panic did not subside. You would not have gone to the maester if it was not for something serious. He opens the door, and they slam against the wall. Both his wife and the maester look at them startled. The maesters hands are hovering on your stomach. A scowl comes on your face when you see Daemon standing there panting after having run all the way from your shared room to the basement where the maesters domain is.

“Daemon what are you doing here?” he slowly steps forward and stands opposite of the maester. His hand grasps yours and he slowly makes circles with his thumb across your hand. “I could ask you the same question?” you look up to the maester who nods before your attention is back on Daemon. “I have not had my monthly, I am late by two weeks.” His eyes find yours before meeting the maester as to double confirm. “I still need to do some tests, but I am quite sure the princess is expecting.” Daemon lifts you in his arm, curling you against his chest. “We are going to have a baby!” “Yes, my love we are going to have a baby.” you confirm while a happy tear makes its way down your face. Daemon takes your head between his hands while prepping your face with kisses. “We are having a baby.” He smiles and captures your lips.

___

Daemon was supposed to come back from a two-week trip. He was sent to deal with a lord that did not want to pay any taxes to the crown. The king had sent him after Daemon had created a little political. He had bashed in the head of a lord’s son who had made some remarks about you and Daemon had lost it. Slamming his fist in the arrogant man’s face and not stopping until the king’s guard had forcibly moved him off the man.

Normally if Daemon was supposed to come back from a trip you would have been waiting at the dragon pit for him. But with the recent development and the increased nausea, you opted to stay within the castle walls. Nestled into the couch with a blanket around the lower half of your body reading a book Daemon had brought for you. However, every few seconds your eyes would flit to the door checking if he was already here. Any time now he was supposed to walk through the door at least that’s what the maid said when she announced that Caraxes had been seen flying above Kings landing.

Sounds could be heard from behind the door and expectingly you looked up from your book to find your husband standing in the doorway. “Daemon!” you breathed out quickly standing up from the couch. The blanket pooled around your feet showing off the slight baby bump you had developed. You were now 16 weeks pregnant, and you had started to show quite a much more when he was away. His eyes draw to your stomach.

Daemon walks towards you fast but before he reaches you, he stops. Hesitantly he looks at you before breaching the last few steps between you. He carefully takes you into his arms. Hugging you to his chest before going down on one knee. His hands find your bump. You smile down at him, as he looks up at you amazed. “She has grown so much in so little time.” he kisses the bump and your hand rests in his hair. “How are you so sure it’s she?” you ask while enjoying the moment of seeing your husband so attentive and tenderly. “I just do.” You hit him softly laughing while kissing his forehead. “That’s not a reason.” He rises up and captures your chin with his thumb. “I am always right.” a cocky smile is resting on his face, and you can’t help but laugh out loud at these words.

“Love, you are almost never right.” He playfully slaps your behind before twirling you around. “You know I think your breast got bigger as well.” “Daemon!”

___

You sniffle after finally reading the last chapter of the book. The book you had been reading for days and it unexpectedly turned out to have a very sad ending. “Oh gods, not again.” Daemon signs from his chair across from you. Closing his own book and standing up from his chair. Carefully he lifts you up from your chair and places you back down on his lap. He was trying to console you and soothe you. His thumb circling on your back and the other thumb was brushing your cheek while he was talking nonsense to get you to stop crying. Your belly was just slightly in the way.

Against all odds Daemon has been very supportive when your mood swings started to hit you in full force. He had been supportive when you had started to cry when your favorite flavor of cake accidentally fell, or when you cried about Caraxes being chained down in the dragon pit with no other dragons who like him. Hell, he loved the moments when your anger shone through especially when that anger was not directed at him. He still talks about how you called Otto a cunt in front of the entire court when he had made an underhand comment about Daemon.

“I can’t help that I feel this emotional Daemon.” You hiccup while trying to escape his arms feeling guilty about showcasing your emotions. “I know love I know.” he keeps you within his arms pressing light kisses on your forehead. “You don’t know anything Daemon, this is all your fault.” Your anger is making its way to the forefront and with wide gestures, you gesture to your stomach. “It takes two to make a baby, love.” You hear Daemon try to not choke out a laugh at your expression of anger. “Yeah, but you are insatiable.” This time his laugh is full-blown.

When he calms down, he takes your face in between his hands and kisses you’re your anger melts off you and you melt against him. The reason why you cried, and the anger Daemon provoked in you long forgotten. As his hands brush away your tears you close your eyes. “Are you tired, love?” You nod and lower your head against his chest. “let’s get you to bed.” He carefully lifts you into his arms and walks towards the bed.

“Even if I get angry, I still love you.” You mumble against his chest. He laughs softly while sliding into the bed next to you. You lay your head on his chest. “I love you the most when you get angry, you get all fierce and riled up.”

___

You sighed and closed the book you were reading. Your husband did not look up from the book he was reading. Both you and Daemon had made it a habit to read in the solar while enjoying some tea. Or well in Daemon’s case some wine with it. To attract his attention without asking for it you sighed again. You did not want to be a bother to him again, but your cravings had made themselves known again and you could not exactly fly out yourself to get them. Not that daemon would ever allow it.

“Dae?” you asked softly when he did not look up from his book. He slowly lifts his head. His finger traces the paper of the book, and you have to mentally drag yourself away from his hand to concentrate on getting him to do your bidding. “You know those sweets we enjoyed in Lys, with the Pistache?” Daemon closes the book fully and his gaze lands on you. “I do, why? He looks uncertain at you slowly realizing what you were probably after. “Would you be able to get them for me?”

You stand up from the chair you were sitting in and go to stand behind him. your belly is slightly in the way when you lay your arms around his shoulder, hugging him from behind. You rest your head in the crook of his neck. Smelling his familiar scent as it engulfs you. “I can ask the kitchen to make them for you.” His hand finds one of yours as he connects them together. “Nooo, it’s not the same.” You whine as you place a kiss just below his jaw. Knowing that kissing that spot makes him weak.

“You don’t expect me to fly across the Narrow Sea to get you some sweets, are you?” you can feel he is smiling when he speaks the words, and you know that you almost have your way. “I mean, I am not the only one that wants them.” You smile at him and gently caress the now reasonable bump for emphasis. A bit longer and you would not be able to see your feet anymore. “The babe was not even there yet.” He stands up and pulls you flush against him. Kissing you before bending down to press a kiss against your belly. “Well let’s go then, up for a little ride?” You smile at him. “Of course.” You hook your arm through his and the two of you make your way to the dragon pit to sate the little dragon inside you.

___

You groan and for the thousand times this night, you try to turn around to find a comfortable position in the bed. A soft snoring sound comes from your right, and you promptly turn your back to it to block out the sound of Daemon sleeping so peacefully. You never knew you could be so jealous of somebody sleeping. But no matter what you did you could not find a comfortable position. The babe was kicking like it was running away from a dragon, and a burning feeling made its way up your throat every so often. You stared out of the window, and you could not decide which side was worse, the slow glow of the light streaming through the window indicating that it was in fact becoming morning or your husband sleeping.

Slowly you turn back on your back, and silently wish that you could lay on your stomach. However, a big bump had been restricting that movement for months now. An arm is slung over your belly. The little bastard inside of you immediately calms down. And you huff out a sigh of annoyance. “You should have woken me up sooner.” Daemon softly raps out in his morning voice as his thumb softly strokes your belly. “I did not want to wake you; you had a long day.”

‘It also my child, if you are suffering, I should be too.” His other arm sneaks underneath you and he pulls you against him. You rest your head on top of his chest and for the first time this night, you feel at peace. Your insides are silent, and your head is elevated enough to not feel the heartburn. “Thank you.” You yawn while closing your eyes. Daemon only hums and presses a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, yeah get some sleep, before the maids are barging down our doors.

___

“Where the fuck is Daemon?” You rip the cloth away from your forehead, the cloth that only seconds ago was laid on your forehead by one of the maids. Another one was trying to console you by taking your hand. But you wanted none of it. At this moment in time, you could not stand anybody’s touch. The only touch you wanted had been banned from the delivery room. or to quote the old twat tasked with delivering the baby. “A delivery room is no place for a prince.” A prince he could be, but Daemon had known full well how to create that baby so the least he could do was to help you through it.

“Milady the delivery room is...” “yeah, not a place for a prince, I do not care, Lily go fetch him.” The maid in question dropped whatever she was doing before all but running out of the room. Another contraction hit and beads of sweat were gushing down your back and forehead. “My lady let me wipe it away.” You grunted through the pain. “No, no, I only want my husband.” As the contraction finally subsided you rested against the pillows.

“Milady it is time to start pushing.” you reopened your eyes after having closed them after feeling the last contraction ebbing away. “No, no not without my husband, I need Daemon.” You did not care that the words sounded desperate, but you needed him. So many women passed away in child labor or the consequences of it. There was no way you were going to spend your last possible moments without Daemon and if you survived, the first person you wanted to see your child was him. “Please milady be compliant it is the best for you and the babe.” You desperately shook your head, tears gathering. “I will be compliant when my husband arrives you old goat.”

The old goat in question sighed and moved a bit back to give me some space and busied himself with the making of a paste. Your own maid softly brushed the hair out of your face and with a little constraint, you were able to tolerate it instead of shaking her off. “Daemon?” you asked her softly. “Is coming milady do not fret.” You nodded and closed your eyes again, trying to rest a little before the next contraction would hit. Not so secretly wishing that this torture would end. If you survived this, he was not getting another child.

The doors of your room were dramatically thrown open, scarring everybody who was inside. Without opening your eyes, you knew who had just entered the room in his usual dramatic ways and you smiled. He had come. Your Targaryen prince was here. “My prince, I have tried to talk to milady, but she does not want to listen, a delivery room is no place for a prince.” You had never been this mad at a person before and if you could, you would have sacked the maester from his job, however, it was a little late for that as the babe was well on its way now. “I remember when I took my vows that I promise to be with her, wherever she goes I go, she wants me here, I will be here.” With that Daemon turned his back to the old goat and sat in the chair next to the bed.

His hand found yours, with his other hand he took the cloth from one of the maids and carefully caressed your forehead with it. “I am here love.” He softly kissed your lips when he saw the contraction hit. “He told me to be compliant.” You huffed when the next contraction ebbed away. Daemon let out a laugh and touched his forehead with yours. “Never become compliant love.” You laugh at him and the pain of being in labor slowly fades away.

Daemon was there for every push every contraction. Holding your hand, cracking jokes, wiping away the sweat and tears. At one point he moved behind you, so whenever the contraction was done you could rest against him. “You know I can see the little top of his head.” At this point, Daemon was hanging over you trying to get a glimpse of the baby. “Well, if his head is out then he can get himself out without bothering me.” You hissed when another contraction hit. “Just a few more pushes, just a few more.” He kisses your neck. Finally, with a last push, the baby slides out of you.

Tiredly you close your eyes, however not for long until you hear a tiny cry. Your little one is alive, strangely you feel empty without the babe, and you know you have to do some more pushing. You almost push him out of the bed. “Go, go look if the babe is healthy, I do not trust that old goat.” He smiles at you adoringly and gives you one more kiss before happily going to bother the maids who were tasked with cleaning the babe. You hear his chattering with the maids as he is hurrying them along so he can hold his child. Just as the maids are cleaning you up Daemon turns back to you with the babe in his arms. Daemon looked so attractive, with his happy smile on his lips, his hair all tousled up, his clothes wrinkled and the little one in his arms. It almost made you want another one.

“It is a boy it seems that I was wrong in my prediction, Y/N you gave me a healthy boy.” You laugh and stretch out your arms for him and the babe. “Can the woman who did all the work hold her son then?” He smiles and comes forward. “I don’t know, I could argue I did all the work.” You huff and shove his shoulder softly. He laughs and kisses you before settling the baby in your arms. “He is wonderful.” You softly touch the cheek of your son while looking up at your husband. “Thank you for standing by me during my pregnancy with all my demands.” “You deserved those demands, but I do not want to see the city of Lys for a little while I cannot eat one more of those sweats.”

#daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fancficton #hotd #game of thrones #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x y/n

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hotreadingwitch · 1 year

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Daemon x Reader - A Room with a View

Content Warnings/Kinks: cheating/infidelity, use of fingers for foreplay, hair pulling, light spanking, dominance, aggression, praise kink, choking, biting, oral sex, ‘doggy style’, penetrative/vaginal sex

A Room with a View

Y/n looked to the right, taking in the views of the clear water below, breathing in the salty air, and listening to the waves crashing against the bridge that leads upward to the Dragonstone castle. She closed her eyes, letting her senses be overwhelmed by the sea when she heard familiar footsteps approaching.

“Daemon” she greeted, her eyes still closed.

“Y/n”

“You don’t sound excited to see me” she quipped.

“Forgive me if I don’t feel up to the coming weeks of torture”

That got Y/n to open her eyes.

“Torture?” She cocked her head to the side.

“I think being endlessly tempted by my wife’s infuriatingly gorgeous cunt of a sister counts as torture yes”

“What a way with words you have Daemon” she chuffed, “You certainly know how to please a lady”

“You mock me now” he growled, his eyes slits, before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “But do not doubt my ability to please…”

~ 3 days later ~

Light footsteps tread carefully behind Y/n as she stared out at the sea from the war room in Dragonstone. Over the last few days, the space, with its incredible view, had become one of her favourite hideaways.

“You’ve got to stop trying to sneak up on me Daemon” Y/n breathed haughtily, “You know my ears are sharper than yours”

A hand caressed her waist, causing her to turn around and face him.

“What if I just want to be around you?” He countered with a dangerous look in his eye, “Would that be such a crime?”

“Daemon…” she hesitated, placing a hand on his chest, stopping him from coming any closer.

His face softened and he moved back, letting her hand drop from his warm chest to her side.

“If you don’t want me to, say it and I will leave you to your thoughts and the waves”

“I do want you” she whispered, a gentle confession, her eyes flitting up to meet his gaze, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted”

Daemon slid his hands down the sides of her body in an instant, gripping her thighs under the lightweight fabric of her gown, and picking her up. Her lips crashed down onto his as he moved them to the war table, placing her on the hard edge. His hands slid lower, grazing her ass and pressing his chest down onto hers.

“Won’t Mysaria mind My Prince?” She questioned, out of breath between kisses.

He gripped her flesh tighter, “She won’t mind what she’ll never know”

Daemon’s kisses were intoxicating, truly like a poison, the kind that kills you so slowly that you don’t realize something is wrong until it is too late. As their lips found each other again and again, Daemon’s hands wandered lower, gently skimming the skin above her cunt.

“My love” he murmured, “Please tell me I can…”

“Yes” she replied instantly, cutting him off, “Yes, Daemon please”

Breaking away from her lips, he looked her right in the eye as he pulled down her undergarments and connected his calloused fingers to her clit. He began flicking it at an achingly slow pace, making her back arch and her breath hitch in her throat.

“Mmm,” she moaned quietly.

She whimpered, sensitivity shocking through her as she rocked against his palm. Her hips bucked, almost involuntarily, endlessly pleased by his slow, teasing fingers.

“You like that?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.

“Uh-huh” she breathed, her voice a low whine.

“Uh-huh?”

The look in his eyes was practically monstrous, like the blood of the dragon was boiling within him.

“Yes” she amended quickly, “Yes, My Prince”

“That’s better love” he grinned, his smile a smooth curve, before adding in a low voice, “You know I like it when you use your words for me”

As Daemon continued rubbing the pads of his fingers around and around her needy clit, Y/n felt like she could barely breathe. She cried out, feeling herself throbbing more and more with every minute that he touched her. Licking his bottom lip, he looked up at her with cocky, glazed-over eyes, before staring down at her wet cunt.

“Tell me Y/n…when you’re wet and ready for my cock” he groaned, “I need to hear you say it”

“Daemon please” she begged, “I need you in me…”

“Fuck” He leaned back, exposing his long neck to her and sucking in a sharp breath, “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it love or I won’t be able to control myself”

She grabbed his hand and pulled it further down, above her wet cunt, “Touch me, touch me and you’ll see that I mean what I say”

Daemon curled his palm downward, cupping her roughly without breaking eye contact before gliding a finger over her hole.

“Fuck, you’re soaking” he practically growled, his voice dark with lust.

Daemon rubbed his hand over her slit again and again like a man possessed, like he was drunk on the feeling of how her wetness coated his long fingers.

“Turn around” he then commanded.

Y/n turned, gasping as she felt his hard cock pressed up against her ass from behind. She bent over, reaching back and spreading her ass cheeks for him, giving Daemon the access they both craved.

“Gods” he groaned through gritted teeth, running his hand down her spine, making her shiver, “You’re so good for me love, do you want my cock in you?”

She grabbed at him, pulling him even closer, her voice a quiet breath, “Please”

Daemon teased her hole until his tip was glazed with a layer of her wetness. Y/n gasped then, as he shoved his entire shaft into her without warning. Her back arched and her body tensed, tightening around him instantly.

“Ahhh” she moaned.

He spanked her ass, twice for good measure, before beginning to thrust…and Gods did it feel good. When Daemon fucked someone he fucked them deep and he fucked them hard.

“Harder” she begged.

And he complied, tightly gripping her hair in his rough palms, making her back arch even more as he pounded her like he hated her guts. Her breathing was becoming ragged but it almost stopped altogether when Daemon squeezed his sturdy hand around her neck, pulling her upward so that her front was pressed to his taut chest.

“You know how hard you make things for me Y/n?” he groaned in her ear as he fucked her, the sound of their skin slapping echoing around the room, “You’ve been here for three days and as each one passed it's been harder and harder for me to resist you”

Y/n whimpered, gasping and overwhelmed as Dameon slid his other hand down to her clit, rubbing familiar circles around it, adding to her pleasure.

“Do you know how difficult it is for me to see you walking around my castle, huh? To see you at every meal sitting beside my wife, your sister, when all I want is you? If I had it my way you’d be bent over for me every day until you leave”

Daemon flipped her around and in an instant, her chest was flush with his, their faces inches apart. He caressed her cheek gently with his thumb before sliding it down toward her mouth.

“Open”

She obeyed, allowing him to slip his finger past her raw lips and into her mouth. She flicked it lightly with the tip of her tongue before fully sucking on it. Daemon smiled down at her, pleased by her obedience.

“Yes, good girl,” he said, sliding back into her roughly, making her gasp again at the feeling of his length. But he kept still, not yet thrusting.

“Beg for it”

“Daemon” she breathed, squeezing around him, desperate to cum, “Daemon, Daemon, please”

His eyes rolled back, enjoying the feeling of her wrapped around his hard cock. When he pulled back out of her and then began to thrust again, he had to grip one of her hips tightly so that he didn’t cum right then and there.

“Oh yes,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.

Soon, Y/n felt a tightness spreading across her chest and a warmth pooling in her cunt.

“Are you going to cum for me, my love?” He cooed, adding when she tightened even more around him, “Yes, yes, cum on this cock, use my cock and cum for me”

“Fuck” she cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers on her clit and his cock stuffing her perfectly.

She bit down on to his jaw, attempting to muffle her own moans as they got louder and louder, reverberating off of the cave-like ceiling of the war room. He thrust harder with each second that passed, pumping in and out of her at an impossible pace.

“Daem—oh—Gods you’re fucking me so good”

Y/n shivered as she came, the waves of her orgasm overwhelming her. Daemon held her upright, never once stopping his fingers on her clit. She cried out, her back arching and cunt tightening even more when she felt his cum splashing inside her.

“Yes” he groaned, resting his forehead on hers, “So good for me, so perfect, mmm”

She laughed breathily when they finally finished, kissing his jaw where she had just bitten it, reviewing the small mark she’d accidentally made.

“You’re going to have to cover that somehow, you know”

“Or I could let everyone see it…”

“And let those in court know, let my sister know you’ve been unfaithful?”

Daemon kissed her lightly, caressing her sides as he did.

“I’m not ashamed of you Y/n” he stated, pushing her sweaty hair back from her face, “Nor will I ever be”

She looked up at him, her cheeks still flushed and breathed in how the salty air of the sea mixed with Daemon’s musk, creating the perfect scent.

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