#daemon targaryen non con

[imthefemalemonster]

Could you write a daemond oneshot with top aemond and non-con? Aemond wins the war and forces daemon to suck him and have sex with him to humiliate him. Thank you.

Hello very polite Anon, here you go, I wasn't expecting to write that much but I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻Last One Standing

Daemond - Aemond Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen (TOP!AEMOND / smut / noncon)

⸻ Summary: A war is won when Aemond Targaryen ends up on top.

Tags: Shameless Smut, NON CON, Top!Aemond, Blowjob, Handjob, Anal Sex, Orgasm, No beta my brain melted

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: This is TOP!AEMOND / Non-con / And NOT soft/fluff, please be mindful when reading. ~ (Aemond is pretty deranged)

Requested by anon, hope you like it. ♡

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻Words: 2700~

Daemon wondered what death looked like. Was it scary? Relieving? Sacred or unholy? Sure death looked better than anything he was in right now. The cold air stung his scars like needles, piercing his skin one by one. He could try to pull on the cloth attached to his wrists, but nothing happened. He was only losing strength, the skin burning under the fabric. His hands were tied above his head to the headboard. Naked body laying on the bed, only a single frail sheet was covering him. He had known worst situations, still the apprehension had his heart racing, beating in his chest like it wanted to get out and run away. Being tied up, naked in the middle of an empty room, gag in your mouth, Daemon could only but imagine what was going to happen to him.

As the door slammed open, his eyes glanced toward the shadow entering the room. He didn’t have to imagine for long as he observed with much disgust, his nephew, Aemond Targaryen, crawling to the best with the vilest smirk on his lips. He was wearing only a white shirt and leather pants, chest slightly exposed, attracting Daemon’s gaze.

“Look at you”, he cooed. His voice sounded like honey but felt like poison.

Daemon raised his eyebrow in grand nonchalance. He was not afraid of him. He had already lost it all, what more could the boy take from him? His chest moving with regular and relaxed breaths, he looked away to the ceiling. He would not give up to his nephew’s vile tendencies.

“Look at me.” Daemon heard, but did not move, he dared to close his eyes and focus on his breathing.

“Funny how you still think you’re in power here.”, breathed Aemond, crossing his arms behind his back.

Maybe a little bit more, thought Daemon, and the boy would commit the one mistake that would allow him to get away. To go where? He didn’t know. But he would rather let himself die alone somewhere than be here, tied up like a cheap whore, weak and exposed at the mercy of the younger man. He waited and waited, but Aemond didn’t do anything. He didn’t get angrier, didn’t get stupid, didn’t move in haste. He just stood here, his thin figure next to the bed, head tilted to the side, a surprising comforting smile on his lips.

“I’ve always thought you looked pretty, uncle”, he cooed, leaning in closer, standing just above Daemon’s worn out face, his hair like a curtain around him, “Desirable.”, he continued, “The way I always wished I was… you.”

Daemon's chest moved up as he laughed, sound muffled by the gag, but still visible to Aemond. The revelation was strangely uncomfortable.

“If I can’t be you then…”, he paused, a hand moving from behind his back to Daemon scars, languidly brushing the damaged skin. The Rogue Prince shivered at the unwelcomed touch. “I can take you.” Eyes opened, he fixed Aemond, he wished his stare could melt the Prince’s body, like dragon fire would.

“Don’t give me that look.”, he murmured, resting a knee on the bed, mattress shifting slightly under his weight, “How sad you’ve always been the taker and not the taken.”

Aemond’s hands sinfully grazed the older man’s chest as he moved to sit on his feet, kneeling next to Daemon. There was no restraint in the younger Prince anymore. He would indulge in his deepest desire. His hands moved up, palm tracing the lines of Daemon’s muscles up to his throat, one close around it, the other kept Aemond steady, resting next to the man’s face. His thumb played with the soft skin, fingers squeezing it. Aemond moved closer, raising a leg to straddle Daemon’s hips, the man breathing heavily, body sinking into the mattress to avoid contact. Aemond’s hard center couldn’t escape his senses as the boy’s face was still above his. Disgusted he looked away but he was stopped as Aemond grabbed his chin with his thin fingers and kept him in place. He took a deep breath, chest erratic. If he couldn’t run, then he would stare directly into the enemies’ eyes.

“I want to taste you.”

The silence was heavy in the room. Daemon understood the second he woke up naked and tied up to the best that there were several chances he would not get tortured with punches or knocks, but sexually abused. Maybe the Gods’ perverted punishments for his own lust. But the idea that it would be the devout Aemond giving himself over to such activities, voicing them to him, was beyond what he could have imagined. He wouldn’t be defeated, he would endure.

Aemond smiled, even if the man couldn’t speak, his face and eyes told a hundred words. Patience had left him, he had waited long enough. All these years of blood and battles would finally pay. Soft gasp leaving his lips, his body leaned in into Daemon’s forced embrace, chest against the scars, his hidden erection rubbing against Daemon’s groin. Slowly he kissed the man’s temple, making sure the touches were as noisy as possible as he was still holding the man’s chin with his finger, not letting him escape his hunger.

“Daaaemon”, he purred against his ear, teeth closing around the man’s earlobe, biting it harshly. His digits brushed the fabric on Daemon’s mouth, trailing kisses down his ear to his chin where his fingers rested. The room was filled with cold air, the noises of Aemond mouth against the harsh skin and the leather rub against the frail sheet covering Daemon. Mouth moving to the older Prince’s throat, Aemond used his second hand to remove the cloth covering Daemon, exposing his half-hard length to the cold and Aemond relentless thrusts against his thighs. Daemon shivered at the feeling, eyes closed, trying to focus on anything but the worm crawling on his broad body. Aemond was squirming against him in childish excitement, moans leaving in mouth savoring his meal.

Aemond moved back, surprising Daemon as he opened his eyes again. There was no fear or confusion in his eyes, which didn’t disappoint Aemond in the slightest, he would get off from Daemon’s burning rage and perseverance. He loved drowning himself in the blazing lilac orbits, making his body burn in absolute pleasure. He let go of Daemon’s head, moving his hands to his pants, not taking his pants off but just freeing his own hardened cock. He heard Daemon inhale loudly, feeling more like boredom than wrath. Aemond grabbed his length at the base, stroking it gently, a gasp escaping his lips at the sensation. He lowered his body against Daemon’s cock, members brushing each other as Aemond shivered in pleasure. Daemon’s cock throbbing against his had Aemond lick his lips in apprehension, cocks rubbing against each other under his firm grip.

“It’s just starting, Uncle”, he laughed, observing Daemon’s cock pleasantly react to his touch, “Don’t come too soon.”

The older Prince’s breaths were erratic by now, mixed between rubbing against his nephew’s shaft or pulling on the ropes with his very last strength hoping it would break and he would jump on the boy to strangle him. In vain he tried to pull discreetly when Aemond was jerking them off, but it was useless, nothing moved.

“You are not getting anywhere, Uncle”, Aemond’s hands movements were irregular on both their cocks. He laughed as he watched Daemon’s face straighten, eyebrows furrowed.

Leaning in again, Aemond removed Daemon’s gag, taking the older man aback as he closed the distance between them with a harsh kiss. Daemon had no time to react, move away, he was pinned under Aemond's newfound strength, mouth assaulting his. The younger man’s hand had left their erections wanting to grab Daemon’s chin. Aemond digits dug into Daemon’s cheek, forcing his mouth open as the younger Prince pushed his tongue in. The motion was particularly unpleasant for Daemon, cheeks and lips hurting at the assault, Aemond feasting on his prey, moaning obscenely in his mouth. The one-eyed man broke the kiss, licking his lips wet from their mixed saliva. Daemon sighed heavily, finally able to breath with his mouth and nose.

“Thoughts?”, mocked Aemond.

“Awful.”, groaned the older man, “You moan like a virgin.”

“And you like it don’t you?”, cooed Aemond, single eye wandering to Daemon throbbing cock. He raised his eyes again, moving his lower body to sit on Daemon's chest, cutting his breath away, member bouncing against the burned skin.

“Just get over with it, boy.”, mumbled Daemon, “Whatever little vile idea you have in your head.”

“Eager are we?”, laughed Aemond, climbing further on his Uncle’s chest, one hand on the headboard steadying him, the other stroking his angry shaft.

Daemon rolled his eyes at the sight. Aemond towering over him, balls and cock too close to his face for his taste. He could only swallow, mouth closed.

“Like what you see?”, rasped Aemond, cock wet from precum, hand running up and down his length above his uncle's face. Smirking, he pressed the leaking head to Daemon’s closed lips.

“Open.”, Aemond ordered. Daemon laughed, air hitting the younger Prince’s cock who whined at the sensation, lips curled in a smile.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Aemond sighed, more amused than disappointed. He tilted his head, hair falling on his shoulders.

“I’ll force it open, Uncle”, he husked, his own thumb pressing on the head of his cock, against the older man’s lips, “I’ll have men hold it open for me and fuck that throat all I want. I can even let them have a little bit of fun with your old body. What do you think?”

Maybe Daemon had to play it smart. Endure this, only this, then it would be over. Daemon could fool himself all he wanted, once the younger man would have found the taste for it, he would never stop. He knew better than anybody else. So maybe he had to comply, just a little bit. Just enough for Aemond to make that one mistake and he would slice his throat. He sighed, closing his eyes, he parted his lips slightly.

“So perfect, Uncle.”

Aemond pressed his cock against Daemon’s face again, his cock sinking slowly and lustfully in the older man’s mouth. Aemond raised an eyebrow, surprised at how easy his cock entered Daemon’s mouth.

“Such a whore.”

Aemond parted his lips, breathing heavily, savoring the warmth around his length.

“Just a little deeper…”, he murmured, his hand moving from his cock to Daemon’s hair, grabbing a fistful of it.

Once settled in, feeling Daemon’s breathing through his nose, Aemond started moving without warning. He raised his hips before pushing them down again, tearing a low groan out of Daemon as his cock hit deeper inside. Aemond moved his other hand from the headboard to the older man’s hair, fucking his way inside, feeling Daemon wet tongue against his sensitive skin and veins. Lustful moans escaped his lips as Daemon swallowed, cheeks hallowed and eyes closed, trying not to choke on Aemond's large shaft and his brutal trust into his jaw. 

“O-oh gods”, shouted Aemond, lost in the heat of Daemon’s mouth, the older man’s gagging around his cock, motions erratic.

Moving out abruptly, Aemond smirked, taking his cock in hand, stroking it above Daemon’s flushed face. The man’s eyes finally showed some confusion as Aemond sped up his strokes, moving from base to top, hips shaking as he groaned, cumming all over Daemon’s face, to the man's great disgust.

“Didn’t wanted to have you choke on my cum”, Aemond laughed, milking the last drop from his shaft with his hand, droplets sinfully dripping on Daemon’s face, “You should be thankful, you look even prettier like that, drenched in seed.”

Daemon had no time to protest or insult him as Aemond placed the gag on his mouth again, shutting him off. He descended on his body, breathing heavily as he came down from his high, resting between the man’s legs. Aemond took a moment to contemplate the man’s broad body. Daemon's eyes burned with absolute wrath. Finally. It was beautiful to see, so arousing Aemond licked his lips, hands caressing the man’s waist and thighs. Aemond’s eye lowered to his crotch, cock neglected and throbbin betraying Daemon’s need.

“I would love to ride you but… I would rather take you”, Aemond mewled, resting on his teeth, raising Daemon’s left leg above his own thigh.

He could feel the older Prince’s squirm at his touch, trying to get away from Aemond’s needy hands. It only made the one-eyed man smile as he rubbed his cock against Daemon’s, lowering to his balls and entrance.

“I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before.”

Eye dark as the night, hungry like a predator facing its prey, Aemond pushed the wet head against Daemon’s rim, the man shivering at the feeling. 

Daemon’s head was empty, as empty as he could get it. Even if he knew it was useless, his body moved on its own, trying to get away from the boy’s dangerous touch. He was feeling the head push against his sensitive skin. He closed his eyes, bracing for what was to come, trying to relax as he felt his rim burn.

“Poor thing”, mewled Aemond, hand son Daemon waist, pushing him down as his own hips moved further up, “So tight it’s going to hurt.”

Aemond was shaking in anticipation, groaning when his head entered, feeling like he had just dropped glass and it exploded on the floor in a thousand pieces. His feeling was confirmed by Daemon's chest moving up, his wrists pulling on the ropes, desperately trying to adjust to Aemond’s size. Pushing inside slowly, more to not hurt yourself than Daemon, he cared very little about his uncle’s well-being. It was dry and difficult to enter, but little by little Aemond could feast on his cock disappearing inside the older man. Once he was fully in, hips meeting the skin of Daemon’s thighs he groaned happily. It was so warm, so tight around him he could have come from that only. Keeping himself steady on Daemon’s waist, Aemond moved back slowly, painfully pushing in again, feeding off Daemon’s muffled groans. He couldn’t quite tell if they were from pleasure or pain, maybe both, but it only made him more erratic, aroused, his eye dark with need. Fingers digging in Daemon’s waist, bruising the skin, he set an abrupt pace, moving in and out the best he could, noises or skin and hips collapsing and pounding against each other filling the room, music to his ears. 

Each thrust hit so deep inside Aemond thought he was going to be stuck, buried in here forever, unable to move out of the warmth offered by Daemon’s body. The older man had his eyes closed as Aemond observed his face, delighted at the muscles on his body moving, the way his cock bounced at the one-eyed prince’s brutal movements, his face tightening at his hole was being so harshly stretched. Aemond's stamina was running short as he felt his climax approaching, the heat and wetness around his shaft making him uncontrollably groan. Pace erratic, animalistic, Aemond moaned, last thrust hitting deeper than before as he spilled inside, fingers dug into Daemon’s waist it drew blood. The feeling was overwhelming as he breathed heavily, vision fading to black, shoulders and legs shaking. He lowered his head against his uncle's chest, embraced in the warmth of his body.

The room was filled with heavy and irregular breathing. Aemond moved his head up, chin resting on the burned skin underneath him, smiling at Daemon who wasn’t moving apart from his chest. He couldn’t quite see his face from here, but he could feel his still throbbing cock against his belly. Moving out slowly, letting the cum and sweat mix at his uncle’s entrance, Aemond observed his masterpiece. Years of wait were worth everything he had experienced here. Satisfied he moved up, head next to Daemon who watched him with much disdain.

“I’ll never get enough of this”, Aemond smirked, head resting against the scars, cradled by Daemon’s heavy breaths, “Can’t wait until next time.”

[anamazingangie]

gifts from the grave

E / Complete / 5k words

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen

She waited until it was night. Then put a flower on the grave, lit a candle, and was rewarded with gifts that emerged from the ground the following day.

Until one day, it was no longer just a grave that greeted her but a man.

Or: Daemyra’s love language is gift giving in every universe, even this weird one.

Chapter 1.

She knew the legend from children at school. Even when she was small, they spoke such tales. In the little graveyard, the one far from the church and bracketed only by forest, there was a gravestone larger than all the others. It was overly elaborate, given the grounds, and stood out not only for its height but also its extravagance. 

It was said the man it belonged to was spoiled in life, and wished to spoil others in his death. 

If you went at night and left behind a lit candle and a flower, the next morning there would be treasure peeking up from the soil. It was said the candle drew the man from his grave, and the fresh flower gave him enough life to give you something in return. 

She hadn’t expected it to work. She never would have even tried it, not having the time or candles to spare — but someone, a stupid boy dared her. She was grown now, in her last year of school, but still spiteful. And so she found herself in the graveyard, in the middle of the night — a lantern in her hand, with the flower, candle, and packet of matches tucked into her apron pocket. 

She kneeled on the soft earth before the stone, which was easy to find thanks to its grandeur. It was dirty, too dirty to read the name — though the scripture likely was too fancy for her eyes even if it were clean. She thought she saw a D, maybe a T, large loopy letters signifying initials. She supposed it did not really matter, knowing the man's name was not part of the dare. 

And so she carried on, placing the flower, lighting the candle, and leaving with her lantern in hand. 

The children at school didn’t believe her, which made her stuff and stomp her way back to the graveyard — kids in tow behind her. She didn’t need to prove anything to the younger students. But she knew the evidence would be there — the cold melted wax that remained of a candle, and the wilted flower, would surely show her truth. 

Except it wasn’t there. It was just the gravestone. And the children laughed, calling her a liar before scurrying away. 

She wondered if one of the kids had hidden her offerings. Surely that was the most reasonable  explanation, that they had snuck here before school and hidden what remained. She would find the wax scattered in the grass, she was sure of it. But when she got closer, there was something sparkling — seeming to reach up to her, from the ground. It wasn’t wax, it wasn’t even glass, it was gold. 

When she unearthed it, she found a tiara that shone. Elaborate filigree details outlined glittering green stones. It was heavy in her palms, the weight speaking to its value. She would have noticed it, the night before, she thought. Surely she would have! And this was so grand…no one at her school could afford such a thing, much less something to hide for a laugh. 

Was she a fool for the bit of belief she had, in the legend? At that moment, it almost seemed logical. 

But she was not naive — she would not believe so easily. 

But she believed enough though, to return the next night. 

Another candle was lit. A flower laid. 

The next morning, a diamond ring was in their place. 

The gifts were not always so grand. Sometimes they were simply books, or spools of silk ribbon. But still, the quality was finer than anything else she had seen before — even in the high end stalls in a nearby town. She wasn’t sure where they could be coming from, other than simply the ground. 

Or the man beneath it, she thought. 

He must have been generous in life, to give such gifts in death, she thought. Or perhaps it was the opposite — he was cruel in life and forced to be kind in death, as an act of forgiveness. 

She imagined him. What he might look like. He would be handsome, and well spoken. Of nobility or wealth or both to be able to afford such things. He would be kind to her, perhaps only kind to her. But she would not mind that, being doted on by someone who disliked all other’s. 

Sometimes, she dreamed of such a man, with pale hair and purple eyes and a smirk that turned into a smile upon seeing her. 

It made her curious about the dead man in the grave beneath her. 

And so one night, as she sat looking at the stone, she couldn’t help but whisper her curiosity out-loud. 

“I wish I could meet you.” 

And so the next day, it was not an object of the earth that greeted her before the gravestone. But a smartly dressed silver haired man sitting atop it, leaning against the elaborate headstone. His clothing was dirty, the earth around him upturned. As if he had crawled up from it. 

Crawled out to meet her. 

She should have been scared. She should have turned and left. 

She shouldn’t have thought that, 

Perhaps this will be the greatest gift he’s given me yet.

Chapter 2.

Daemon wasn’t entirely sure how it worked. He’d had so much time to figure it out, centuries and decades both above and below ground. But none had led to him discovering the how, nor the why. 

What he did know was this; eventually even immortal beings needed to rest. 

He would be put to bed in the gold lined coffin, buried a mere few miles from his ancestral home.

Anyone who tried to steal from him would die, but anyone who tried to give to him would thrive.

It was an interesting curse, one that allowed him to grow stronger from peoples gifts. Until eventually his eyes opened beneath the golden lid of the tomb and his tired haze began to fade. He couldn’t be revived fully, not without a sacrifice. But by the time his body was ready, usually the woman was too. Wooed by what sprung from the earth, all too eager to lay themselves down for him. For his life. 

This one was prettier than most, he thought, as she approached. She was more confident than most, too. There had been occasions where he had to chase the women down, too frightened to advance once they realized it was more than just gold they had unearthed. 

But this one looked curious. She had shabby clothing, but they did little to hide her spectacular beauty. A fine form, he thought, with a plentiful bust and hips to match — the contrast of both was sharp, against the dip of her waist. 

She had unusual, shining purple eyes, outlined by heavy blonde lashes. Matching brows were furrowed as she looked at him, but the contrite expression still showed her pretty features. A plush mouth, overly full bottom lip, and a button nose. She was fair, with pale skin and even paler hair — a shade of blonde entwined with silver, that caught beautifully in the morning light. 

This one was a stunning creature, her beauty haunting enough for him to feel a pull towards her. An odd desire to keep her. The urge grew stronger as she spoke, her voice firm — more a demand than a question. 

“ Who are you?” 

Ah. That he knew the answer to, and he spoke it confidently, “I’m Daemon Targaryen.”

The girl's stance shifted — she looked young he thought, but not too young. He’d cared for children who played by his grave before, but this was no child, this was a woman through and through. 

Her eyes shifted too, looking between him and the headstone — it was filthy from decades of debris, but the carve D and T — larger than all the rest to signify his initials, remained clear. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked. 

“I should be asking you the same question, for it is you who has grown fond of visiting me here.” 

She spotted, “I wasn’t visiting you! I was—“ She looked puzzled, as if trying to recall what she was doing there. She blushed when she remembered her true motive, ah yes, she was there for his gifts. A good girl of her age would have been told greed was a sin, mortals not being supposed to enjoy nice things. 

She had been doing something naughty by coming to him, and taking what he provided. Material goods mattered little to him now, but a great deal to someone like her. Someone so unused to pretty things, ironic given that she herself was one. 

He began unlacing his tunic, throwing aside the wrinkled cravat. His clothing was stained from dirt and debris he’d found on his way out. He was eager to get out of them, but more eager for the girl to get out of hers. It had been so long since he’d had a woman. And she was even more than that, he could smell it, she was a virgin. 

She didn’t back away when he stood, nor when he approached her. She seemed neither prepared to fight nor take flight, no — her body had chosen the forgotten third option fright. But it was uncommitted to even that. She didn’t seem overly scared though, her breath was steady and her pulse even. 

Goosebumps rose to her flesh where he touched her, but she didn’t flinch away. She was pliable as he gently brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the flesh. 

“I should like to know your name, too.” He said, voice soft and enticing in that way he knew was hard for a girl to resist. He was rewarded with her swallow, the bob of her throat distracting him before she spoke. “Rhaenyra.” She said, for a last name mattered little in her life. It would soon though, for she would live this day on as a Targaryen. 

“ I’d quite like to kiss you, Rhaenyra.” He said, grinning as her breath caught. He wrapped his palm around her wrist, pulling her to him. To be true, he wanted to do a great deal more than this, but it was a start.

It was invigorating, the whisper of breath meeting, before soft lips touched. The warmth of her lips seemed to melt something inside him. It made him tilt her head, the press of her jaw upward allowing him to deepen the kiss. Explore the cavern of her mouth with his tongue, lapping up her moans. 

She was a seductive creature, this one, but she was stubborn too. That became clear as he tried to undress her, and tried to pull her closer. She wriggled in his arms, before freeing her lips and snapping at him — “That is something for a husband and wife.” She said emphatically. A girl could give up a kiss but anything more…

Time passed, but the judgment of women did not. She would have a reputation to maintain, before she was wed. But because of that he just laughed, “Is that not what we are? Have you not accepted my ring? Back in my day, that gold band made you my property.” 

He reached for her, twining his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. He pulled the chain from her chest, the one his ring dangled from. She could not wear it on her finger, it would draw suspicion, but clearly she couldn’t leave home without it, either. She may not realize it yet, but she had already committed herself to him.

“ I cannot give myself to a dead man!” She said, and he laughed again. For was that what she thought? 

“Do I seem dead to you? When my heart beats for you?”

“ What do you mean?” Her face was pinched, just as confused as it was pretty. 

He ignored her question, already growing tired. “I appreciate your sweet offerings, but it is time you offer yourself to me.” He said, deft fingers undoing the buttons at the front of her cotton dress. She seemed stunned, as he pushed the garment from her shoulders, and pressed his lips to hers once more. But she didn’t object either. Not when he stroked her neck, brushed thumbs across her collarbones. Nor when he followed the path of his hands with his mouth, leaving lascivious kisses against her soft skin. 

She didn’t protest when he walked her backwards, either, until they were amongst the upturned dirt. He leaned against the stone — dragging his back down it and pulling her into his lap. This was better. There was more contact, but not enough. He tore his tunic off, hands quickly falling to the front of her chest, undoing the hooks of her girdle that attempted to contain it. 

They both moaned, when she was freed to him — to the morning air. Nipples were ripe and pink, even amongst her flushed skin. The perfect tips for perfect breasts, he thought, for they were a generous handful that felt heavy in his palm. They were sensitive too, lips parting from their kiss when her moans grew too loud. He had barely touched her, just the brush of thumbs against bare skin, but for someone of her experience that was still so much. 

 The straps of the garment were pushed away, leaving red marks behind that he lapped at. There was a subtle taste to her skin, a sweetness, tinged with sweat. It was delectable. It inspired a different type of hunger in him, but that could wait to be sated. 

He was desperate to have her in a more carnal way, first. He lifted the open dress over her head, her back arching as his fingers brushed across the delicate bones of her spine. She wore nothing but stockings now, practical woolen socks that rested at her hips. He stroked the flesh above them, finding it soft from her lovely curves. 

He was grateful, when he found the strength to push down his pants — just enough to free the length of him that burned hot against the buttons of his breeches. She was grinding against him now, his lips wandering from her own to her neck, leaving behind marks on her flesh that would turn to pretty bruises in time. 

He liked that, the evidence of him on her skin. And if she was anything like he expected, she would like it too.

She certainly seemed to like the sensations of his lips against her flesh, the little bites making her grind down on him, making him all the harder for her. It was lovely, and he wanted to revel in it, but she was lovely and he wanted to revel in her. So he pressed her backwards, finding a place atop her. Smirking at how she looked caged in his arms beneath him. There was something about taking a girl that deserved silk sheets and fucking her in the dirt. 

It felt naughty, even to him. And the fact she was letting him made him feel powerful. 

He hadn’t felt powerful in so long. 

It was addictive, just like the taste of her skin. He wanted to taste her lower, from the source — from her sex. And nothing was stopping him now, with her bared below him. It was all too easy to grip her hips, to lower his face between her thighs. It was intoxicating, how her breath hitched in anticipation, her eyes watching him, her body arching at the first touch of his tongue on her folds. 

If she was responsive to having her breasts touched, then he wasn’t sure how to describe her in this. She moaned, wails echoing through the abandoned bit of forest. Hips bucked against his mouth, and her back arched trying to force him even closer to her core. Not that he minded, he had been right, she was sweet. He would happily sit there and feast, until she came again and again. 

And he did. 

Her first release was loud, clenching desperately at nothing but soothed through it by the tongue on her clitoris. Her second was quieter, the gentle rock of hips and little whimpers as she found her peak. He had slipped two fingers into her, which seemed to satisfy that part of her, clenching hard around the intrusion as she came. 

Her moans were entirely of pleasure, gone was any resistance. Even when he kneeled over her, chin damp from her — she just looked at him half lidded, making no attempt to escape or hide from him. “Turn over for me.” He asked her, voice soft, and she sighed as she followed the command and heaved herself onto her stomach. 

He admired the slope of her spine, the curve of her shoulder. He didn’t resist the temptation of it, instead pressing kisses to both, dragging his teeth across its span. He pulled her hips up, to meet his own — forcing her head down. 

Her light hair looked odd, tangled in the dirt. But her fingers looked right. Clenching on the loose soil, looking for purchase but unable to find it. 

He squeezed her hips, and it was the only warning he offered before he entered her. She was tight, making his cock work its way inside. A single thrust would have torn her, and he couldn’t have that, so he was gentle but insistent in his pressure as he forced his way inside. 

Her folds parted nicely for him, her cunt opening to take what he offered it. She was making breathy noises, little huffs and pants in-between words like “ too much” but he knew she did not mean it, for she bore down on him and pressed back against him, desperate for more even if her mouth denied it. 

His loyalty was to his own body, and its desires, but he was pleased that hers seemed to mirror his own. She grew more wet, as he entered her. The intrusion eased by her own slick, and little circles he repeatedly made on her clit. He was fully supporting her hips then, as her upper half remained against the cold dirt. 

But she seemed to give that little thought, when he was finally fully inside her. So deep that the dirt was of little consequence, and her focus was entirely on the stretch. He could feel how deep he was, cock making room for itself inside her. It was beautiful, how bodies could do this, how they were made to slot into each other. 

Her sounds were beautiful too, as was her body, when he finally began to thrust in and out of her. Her complaints had stopped now, all that remained were moans and groans. Her fingers were nearly buried in the earth now, the press of her nails breaking her own flesh. It was confusing, he supposed, to feel so much after being denied for so long. 

He would help her through it, he thought. First through another orgasm — which came easily with his fingers rubbing her, his cock inside of her. And then by loosening his grip. Letting her hips to fall to the ground, and following fast behind her. 

He could not thrust as deeply in this position, but he could feel the entirety of her form pressed against his front. He could stroke his hair, as he stroked the insides of her. He could press little kisses to her neck, as his hips rolled against hers. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation of her, and the sounds of her moans. 

His own release snuck up on him, but god it was euphoric. It was long overdue, and because of this it went on for a long while. Minutes were spent pumping his seed into her, spurring her to have another orgasm — the throbbing of the length inside her being too much, and hurling her over that peak one more time. 

He grunted as she clenched, wringing more seed from him until he was spent — collapsed across her back. Her breathing was level, the fight gone from her when he rolled her back over. Her sleepy gaze looked up at him, her swollen lips still parted. He wanted her again, just like this, where he could watch her tits bounce as he fucked her. But she would be sore, his sweet, pure, girl. And so he made no move to enter her again, instead he fingered the ring around her neck. 

The chain broke easily, in his grip, and he ignored her hiss as the metal broke against her skin. He was single-minded, in his focus of slipping the ring onto her finger. Dirt was still caked under her nails, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. 

It was a perfect fit. He pressed a kiss to her palm, and then to her lips. 

“I’ll give you everything.” He said, reaching to stroke her cheek, “Now that you’ve given yourself to me.” 

They lay side by side, nude under a blanket of trees, against a bed of dirt. It was peaceful, here, with her. It had been a good place to die, he thought. 

But it was an even better place to live. 

Chapter 3.

The next few hours were fuzzy. Almost as if they were a dream. Or perhaps, some would view it as a nightmare. 

The strange man — the beautiful man, had taken her again. His back against his gravestone, and her on his lap. She had been nearly delirious through it, head thrown back and moaning for a reason other than the pain emanating from her core. There was pleasure there, so great that all else could be ignored. =

She had curled into his embrace after, watching her dirty hands leave lines on his pale skin. He was muscular, if not thin. Built more like what she knew of warriors, than anyone in her small village. She wondered if she was missed there, if they had noticed her absence yet. 

Daemon answered the question she had not spoken. 

“You’ll slip from their minds as easily as you slipped into my arms.” 

She shivered, for she hadn’t slipped easily into his arms — not at first. She had squirmed and struggled before giving in. She wondered if the people of her village — if her parents would, too. If they would fight the intrusion into their minds. 

She did not think it was a battle they could win. They too, would feel resigned. Just like she felt resigned to this, being in his arms. If what he said was true, he was here for her. His heart beat for hers. Was he not her responsibility now? And if this was what it took to please him…

It was raining now, she realized. Cold droplets that felt like ice against her skin. Turning dirt to mud against her bare body.

“You’ll never be cold again.” He promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

It made her realize his fingers and lips were warm.

Rhaenyra had many questions about her new life, and very few answers. 

It surprised her how little that seemed to matter.

She lived in the same town she always had, on an estate she did not recall seeing before — it was a large Victorian house, more mansion than home if she was honest. And it was mysterious, how the icebox was always stocked, and her dresses always pressed. 

She had told Daemon, for she had learned his name, over a breakfast of breads and jams she had pointedly not made that “It feels as though the house is alive sometimes.” 

He had smiled at her, extending his fingers to brush against hers, “There is life in everything.” 

“Even death?” She asked, thinking of the grave he had come from. 

He grinned. “ Especially death.” 

She liked her life. She had chickens to tend to, and a pair of barn cats. There were horses, whose pens were always clean and troughs were always full. She felt quite unnecessary sometimes, but when she said as much her husband comforted her. 

“None of this would be here without you.” 

He pressed a kiss to her lips. 

“ I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

He told her many times that he would never lie to her. And she believed him. And so she believed what he had said that day they met, now months ago, that his heart beat for her. It did not take long for her to feel as though hers beat for him, too.

She had a pretty garden, and the flowers seemed to constantly bloom. She was always cutting them, leaving fresh bouquets around the house — in the kitchen, in the entry room, in their bedroom.

New blooms had always filled their space by the next day. Her garden’s never looking empty, no matter how much she took from them. It was odd but so many things about her life were, now that she hardly questioned it. 

Daemon said she simply inspired things to rise from the earth. She had giggled. Wondering if her husband was a seed that had bloomed upon her command — that was silly! Though perhaps no more silly than her other theories. 

She certainly felt as though she bloomed upon his command. The press of his lips, the push of a shoulder. That was all it took to make her lay back, to let him lift her skirts. A few soft strokes and she would part her legs so he could part her folds with his cock. 

She looked in the mirror, a crease upon her brow. Her stomach was flat, a smooth plane of pale skin. Her dresses all fit perfectly, as did her girdles — nipping in her waist, until it was small enough her husband's hands could nearly encircle it. 

She ate better here, and had filled out some — but seemingly only in her hips and bust. Her hair had grown too, past her shoulders — longer than what was stylish, but Daemon encouraged her to keep it. He cared little for what was stylish, he said such things would change with time. You could not live life concerned with norms society created. 

She did not disagree. 

Still, it made her notice how everything seemed to grow in their home, on their land, except for her stomach. 

It seemed wrong. She had been into town, and saw a girl she used to go to school with. They had bumped into each other outside the grocery store, and she had given Rhaenyra a bashful smile. Apologizing to the woman she now knew as a wealthy expat from Valyria, who moved with her husband two years ago, 

But it was not her smile that caught Rhaenyra’s attention, it was her belly. Full and rounded, with a child. 

“Can you have children?” She asked Daemon over dinner. 

He stilled, “Would you like a child, Rhaenyra?” 

That was not what she asked. 

But she nodded all the same.

It rained that night, leaving the ground soft and damp the next day. 

Daemon invited her for a walk. 

She smiled, and took her husband's hand. 

The graveyard looked the same, but larger now without his stone present to overshadow all the others. The space for it was still there, vacant but not out of place amongst the disordered graves. This was not like the church lot, with evenly spaced stones. This was a place where people buried their own, outside of God's eyes and without his blessing. Without him to oversee, parts of the yard were cluttered — and others quite empty. 

Daemon took her to a back corner. A part she had never ventured to before. There were no true headstones here, just bricks with a single date carved into them. 

For these graves belonged to those who had never gotten a chance to live at all. 

“Pick one.” He told her, pressing a kiss to her fingers before releasing them. 

She kneeled in the grass, brushing her fingers across the dirty stones — some illegible, some cracked, and some crumbling. 

One seemed to call to her. 

She traced the date. The initials.

JT. 

“What do we do?” She asked. 

Daemon laughed, “Don’t you know how babies are made?” His tone mocking, and she blushed, feeling young and foolish. 

It was not the first time he had her on a gravestone, and part of her thought faintly that it would not be the last. 

He was meticulous in undressing her this time, and she let him — not struggling like she once had. She lay down for him willingly, and arched into his palms instead of away from them. She moaned as his fingers pressed against her, crying out when his lips found the bud of her nipple. 

He knew just how to touch her, how to get the most from her. 

He needed to. 

For he lived on it, after all. 

When they were done, breathless and muddied — hair uncoiled and streaked with dirt, she heard something other than her heart beating. 

It was the sound of a baby crying. 

Daemon pressed a kiss to her forehead before he started digging in the soft dirt. When he found the wooden box, the warped and rotten lid peeled away with ease. Revealing the ruddy face of an infant wrapped in dry cotton. 

When Daemon lifted the boy, and passed him to her she thought; 

This is the greatest gift he has ever given me.

AO3 | AmazingAngie

[targaryen-dynasty]

NOCTURNAL WORSHIP.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dub/non-con, somnophilia, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), p in v, fingering, possessive and dark (or rather canon) Daemon

WORDS: 1.2 K

NOTES: Something older I had posted with another blog.

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A deep slumber has overtaken you after a day full of lessons in the tongue of your ancestors, and an hours long flight on the back of your precious mount. Deep enough that not even the creaking door leading to one of the secret passageways of Maegor‘s Holdfast is able to get you to stir awake. 

Not quite so stealthy as one might know him, the man they dub the Rogue Prince steps into your chambers, his heart beating fast with the blood pumping straight down to his cock upon spotting you laying on your side, sound asleep despite his intrusion. 

It’s almost ridiculous how hard his cock gets the closer he stalks towards your canopy bed, straining uncomfortably against the laces in the front of his breeches. “Ñuha dōna lēkianna,“ he drawls with a strain to his voice, the predatory gaze of his lilac eyes taking in your sleeping frame. My sweet niece. 

A devilish smirk that’s usually only reserved to the people that dare to challenge him is draped across his lips, growing as he slowly peels the Quartheen silk sheets off your body. Only a fool would miss the fact that you’re not wearing any undergarments beneath the rather flimsy, creamish nightgown you wear, clearly indicating that you have listened to your uncle prior to your departure to your quarters. 

‘Expect me at the Hour of the Owl, sweet girl,’ he had said to you as your lesson ended. ‘And I shall teach you what is expected of you on your wedding night.’ And the sheepish nod and the blush on your cheeks let him know you truly endorsed it. 

Daemon sits down on the bed next to you and brushes his fingers over your skin, starting at your knee to push the nightgown up and reveal your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for the long-awaited. His deft fingers drag through your folds, circling your sensitive pearl.

A quiet sound slips past your slightly parted lips, resembling something between a moan and a whimper, and in your sleepy state he finds you snuggling against him to inhale his comforting scent, your hand resting on his stomach and your face buried in his side.

His fingers toy with your pearl briefly before he gently nudges you over to lie on your back, parting your legs to grant him better access to what lies between them. Ghosting the tips of his fingers along your navel, he trails them down again to ease them inside your cunt, pushing in and out to prepare your maiden core for him.  

The thread of restraint he’s held before grows thinner and thinner with your walls starting to clench steadily around his digits, practically sucking them in and begging for more. And when he feels your small hand fisting his tunic, pulling him closer with your hips rutting meekly against his hand? That’s the moment it snaps.

Withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, he brings them up to his lips, sucking them clean of your essence. Any rational thought is quit with the taste of your arousal spreading over his tongue, making him long for more. 

He climbs between your legs, sitting back on his haunches as he undoes his breeches and frees his cock from its confines. There’s not a second wasted by him,  burying himself inside of you with such urgency in one, swift thrust. 

All efforts not to wake you up are fruitless as he increases the pace of his thrusts, snapping his hips in and out of you over and over again, not able to hold back any longer. 

The hazy glimmer in your eyes as you blink up at him indicates that you have a hard time processing what is happening, although your body perfectly knows with quiet moans and whimpers toppling past your parted lips. 

“K… Kepus?” you mumble, having trouble speaking with the burning of your cunt struggling to accommodate his size clouding your thoughts. You blink once, twice, to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light the moon casts through your chambers windows.  

Daemon doesn’t stop his ministrations, if anything, your dazed reaction only manages to spur him on, feeding the fire that courses through his veins. He dips down, pressing his chest flush to yours and putting his weight onto you, caging you in between his arms with no way to escape. 

Your uncle rests his forehead against yours, stopping his movements briefly. “I told you I would come, didn't I?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you momentarily close your eyes at the proximity. Opening them again, you nod your head and stare up at him with a wide, innocent gaze. “Y… Yes.”

“And you want to learn from me, do you not?” It isn’t a question, more a coercion for you to give him what he wants. “About the… wifely duties you must perform for your future husband.” 

You nod again, speaking in feigned confidence, “yes.”

His words are very much that of truth. More than once have you thought about him in ways that are not proper for the youngest daughter of the King, especially after your older sister has told you about the little foray she and your uncle went on that ended in one of the brothels of the city.

Daemon starts to grind his hips against yours, causing the pressure inside of you to become more and more notable — until your peak catches you in an ambush. 

Your body acts on its own as you arch your back against his sturdy frame, parting your legs just a bit more to willingly rut your hips in rhythm with his, chasing the pleasure. 

Not one coherent thought runs through your head as your body works itself through the several emotions and trembles that soar through you, suddenly not so tired anymore. 

You‘re not so sure what to expect as he proclaims his desire to spill inside of you, yet you eagerly accept, damned be the repercussions, and bite through the overstimulation to chase the addictive feeling of his throbbing cock. 

Tipping his head back, your uncle releases a groan so raspy the bump in his throat twitches, the sight causing a renewed wave of your arousal to drip down his shaft, forming a creamy ring around the base. 

Only once the thrusting of his hips ceases, you‘re able to feel the flimsy pulsating of his cock, spending itself inside of you. 

“That’s it–” His words catch in his throat as his head topples forwards. 

Meeting your gaze, he gets so lost in the blissed out expression on your face that he knows there is no going back now — not when he just got a taste of you, his darling niece. 

He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls out, the uncomfortable feeling of loss causing you both to grimace. Climbing off the bed to readjust his trousers, he can‘t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I expect you, tomorrow night, to come to my chambers,” he states bluntly and nonchalantly, walking towards the door he came through before. “Your husband will not be gentle on the first night of your marriage, lēkianna, and I think it is only fair that I teach you a few more things. So when the time comes, you‘re well prepared.”

With these words, he closes the secret door behind him, leaving you all by yourself. Where you have been in a very deep slumber before, you struggle to fall back asleep again, mind plagued by what tomorrow will bring for you. 

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

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Honesty (Daemon Targaryen × Reader)

Summary: In which Prince Daemon seduces his unwilling Lady Wife.

Warnings: Smut. Dub Con/ Non Con. Oral sex (F receiving), P in V sex. Stark reader. Convenience Marriage. No use of Y/N.

A/N: First time writing for Daemon. Reader is the oldest sister of Cregan Stark and acts as his regent. Might write the full story one day. High valyrian from an online translator, not explaining it because I wanted the reader to not know the meaning.

The shift was white, silky, and oh so tiny. You stared at it with contempt. It had cost you a pretty penny, as had the cosmetics Lady Manderly had so eagerly pushed into your hands. Red tint, she had said, to paint your lips and enhance your natural attributes in other areas. The woman had even had the nerve to point at your breasts!

It was ridiculous, this whole thing. Had you been born a man, there would be no need for this nonsense. Had you not been born a Stark, it would still be happening, but perhaps in not such a brutal way. Or had you not been tempered by the cold, made so brazen to insult and oppose Otto Hightower, perhaps your punishment wouldn’t be marital rape.

Still. It was your duty, and you intended to perform it. It was the only way to keep Cregan, Rickon and Sara safe. And you would do it. Prince Daemon, your lord husband, as he insisted you called him, could surely get the deed done faster with the proper incentives.

You took off your gown, having been previously unlaced by your trusty maid. You put on the dreaded, lacy shift. The latest fashion in Dorne, you had been told. For how expensive it was, it certainly was made of little fabric. You glared at your reflection, watching how the long sleeves had a vertical cut that made them useless. Your skin broke out in goosebumps, as you wished you could add more wood to the fire.

Some rustling could be heard outside your room and you panicked. You were running out of time. The tint! Made of some berries, you hoped didn’t poison you. You quickly rubbed it on your lips and cheeks, trying to seem less like the terrified girl you were and more like an appealing sight. You sat down, primly, on the foot of the bed just in time for Daemon to enter the room.

“Wife.” He rumbled, coming to stand in front of you. Daemon had docked his furs and armor, his sword no longer rested at his side, just as your agreement dictated. He had come to you unarmed and barefooted, yet it didn’t make him cut a less intimidating figure in the least. His purple eyes looked at the tint with curiosity, and plucked it from your hands. “Getting ready for me? I’m touched.”

You glared at him, trying to hide how much nerves pooled in your stomach, how you were cold from fear, skin clammy and pale.

“If I must…” You shifted to your hands and knees, and lifted your shift, exposing your naked folds and arse. It was quite the vulnerable position, and heat started to spread almost immediately to your cheeks and neck. You hated the humiliation it brought you.

Daemon’s breath hitched. Clearly affected by the sight of your prone, soft body, on the bed. “What are you doing, zoklītsos?” His hand went to your exposed folds, finding you as dry as the sands of the dornish deserts. You nearly jolted at the touch, and only his hand on your hips kept you in place. It was not a good omen, you had gathered, from nights spent exploring your body before the cold and worries had turned you into the frigid ice queen the lords in the South accused you of being.

“Go ahead. Do it.” You closed your eyes, keeping them tightly shut, and braced yourself for the pain. Daemon tsked, his warm palm caressing your bottom.

“Hells, you have been deprived.” He pulled your shift down, covering you.

“I do not understand.” You frowned, looking at him over your shoulder, still on your hands and knees. “This is right, I know. I have seen animals do it.” Your tone was of absolute confidence, petulant, even. To you, it was one of the facts of life. The sky was blue, the sun rose in the west, and fucking was done on one’s hands and knees, with the man behind you. It cracked Daemon out. He snorted, hands still busy fixing your shift. It soon turned into a full-blown belly laugh, at your icy glare.

“Poor little wife, your previous lovers have done you wrong.” He palmed at your ass. You hated how the warmth of his palms made you shiver. Good gods, how was he so warm, barefoot as he was and in only a linen shirt? You wanted to kick at him, at the offense of your virtue, perhaps make an icy comment, but you were frozen in shame. “Unless…” Daemon’s hands moved to your stomach, urging you to get up on your knees. He pressed a kiss to your exposed nape when you did, as if rewarding you. Stubbornly, you tried to escape his grip, but he only hugged you tighter. “Oh, what a treat you are… The gift that keeps on giving, zoklītsos.”

“Shut up and get it over with.”

“Don’t be like that, little wife.” He kissed your jaw, tenderly, and when you moved your face away from him, Daemon adapted and started kissing a path down your exposed neck. “You wouldn’t like that, sweet innocent virgin you are. I would tear you apart, and that's no fun.”

“Oh, by the…” You muttered, exasperated. You tried telling yourself that the red of your cheeks was out of rage and not embarrassment. Used as you were at being the smartest one in the room, you deeply disliked how out of your depth you were here. It was not your fault, being uneducated on these matters. Orphaned when you were a lady just flowered, there had been no time for anything else but caring for your siblings. “Why must every woman you meet burn for you?”

“Because I am the blood of the dragon. Heat is in my veins.” He mouthed at your shoulder, this time. His kisses felt like a trail of fire down your body. It was… Waking feelings you didn’t wish to have. Nipples pebbling, hairs standing up, pleasant shivers and all. You breathed in and out, trying to control yourself. Daemon pushed the sleeve of your shift down. “My proper little wife. My ice queen. You will melt, in the end.” He kissed back up and towards your ear, whispering, cruelly. “They all do.”

Your breath hitched. A slip. The first of the night. You could feel Daemon’s smirk against your skin.

“Do you really want to find out how the fire in your veins meets the ice in mine?” You remarked, coldly. It was an attempt at projecting a bravery you did not feel. Bravado. Nothing more. And Daemon could tell.

“Fire can melt ice.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on your throat. With the way he held you, curling and uncurling around you, Daemon reminded you more of a snake than a dragon. You felt as if you were in the grip of a boa, constricting around you, robbing you from your air, leaving you breathless. It was wrong, being so excited at being the sole focus of such a predator. But heat was pooling between your legs, you were getting embarrassingly slick.

“Ice can put out a fire.” You warned, one of your hands going to his silver locks and tugging. You got exactly the opposite reaction of what you wanted. Daemon’s eyes closed, expression turning into a delightful mix of pleasure and pain.

“Only a fool would meet your ice head on.” He kissed your sternum. You remained as still as a sculpture. He tugged at the sleeves, until they gave. There went the dornish shift, ruined forever. You felt a distant rage at having wasted so much gold on it for him to rip it apart. Daemon drank the sight of your exposed chest eagerly, seemingly entranced. You tried covering yourself, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“I think not, Lady Wife.” Then, very tenderly, he pressed kisses to the top of your breasts. You whined, low in your throat. It felt good, and he had no right, no right at all, to get your body to betray you like this. “You see… A tiny flame, if constant, can begin…” Daemon kissed lower, encircling your areola, purple eyes gleaming with mischief. “To melt your ice.” And with that, he took your nipple into his mouth, making you let out a little scream. You squirmed, feeling more wetness gather between your thighs. If you wanted to keep your dignity, you had to get away from him. But Daemon’s grip wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried.

“No… I… Husband… Please. Please.” You begged, shame so deep you were nearly in tears. How it was that easy for him to take you apart, you didn’t know. Despite your pleas, his tongue circled your nipple, his lips making nearly a vacuum around it. His hand came up to pinch at your other nipple, warning. “I don’t want this, please. Just… Just…” But whatever you were saying got lost into your moans, until you were unable to know if you were asking him to stop the sweet torture or give you more of it.

When your tears started to fall in earnest, Daemon let go of your breast with a nearly obscene slurp.

“What is it, zoklītsos? You don’t want the attention of your Prince?” You nodded, and he gave you a mocking little coo. It almost made you think he would stop. Almost. If not for his hands, bunching up your shift until you were exposed once again. Under the candlelight, your cunt glistened with how much wetness you had produced. You tried to close your legs, but he kneeled, forcefully keeping them apart with his torso.

“No. I doubt that's the problem.” Daemon rubbed a finger against your entrance, not putting it in, but just pressing. “I think my little ice queen is melting. A big puddle, she is turning into.”

“You think…” You got cut off by a moan. Daemon had found your pearl, and it seemed he knew exactly what to do with it. “Yourself so smart. Smug…” He pushed a finger inside you, making you yelp, and effectively unable to finish your sentence.

“If you still have coherent thoughts…” He pulled away from you, taking his shirt off. Your eyes immediately were pulled, as if by magnet, to his chest. He had a warrior’s body, muscles all functional. Deliciously broad shoulders, toned stomach with the slightest hint of definition, yet still slender in the way most Targaryens were. Closer to gods, indeed. He bent down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, making you squirm.

“Lord Husband…” You warned, noticing how his kisses started to approach your privates.

“Lady Wife.” Daemon repeated, with a mocking tone. Then, he curiously pressed a finger against your button. This time, your hips bucked, and you were unable to quiet the moan that slipped from your parted lips. “Such a pretty cunt you have.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that, zoklītsos?” He spread you apart, as if opening up the petals of a flower, gentle but so casual. “If I wanted a quick fuck, I would have taken one of your servants, or found myself a whore.” Daemon leaned down and licked a strip over your cunt. In your haste to muffle a scream, you brought one of your hands to your mouth and bit down on your palm until you tasted blood. It was the oddest feeling, a line of scorching hot electricity on your exposed sex. “I intend to enjoy you. As often as I can. That’s why I accepted marrying you.”

“I don’t… I….” You muttered, but you weren’t really opposing him anymore. It was impossible to think about anything apart from what he was doing, of how his heat and wanton ways were starting to warm your blood too. Daemon kept licking at you, making your hips twitch. He was entirely ignoring your pleas, apparently finding great pleasure in the way he took you apart.

You felt like you were burning up, as if something that had been long asleep in you had started to be awakened. Long hidden and forgotten desires that were making themselves known. You found yourself looking down, mesmerized by the sight of the blond shock of hair between your parted thighs and how it bobbed up and down with each eager lick he took. Your hand reached down, tangling in Daemon’s hair, and it was then, you got pulled over the edge.

Daemon would later say it had been the way he had groaned against your pearl, what had made your thighs quiver and tummy tense, an impossible amount of wetness dripping down your thighs. You would say, if asked, it had been the way his purple eyes met yours, mouth still busy at devouring your cunt and face twisted into the most smug and deviant expression you had ever seen. Whatever it was, it pleased him greatly.

“I knew you had it in you. You weren’t cold.” Daemon whispered against your skin, kissing a path towards your mouth. He was unhurried, dedicating lavish kisses to your hipbone, moving to mouth along your belly button, gnawing hungrily at your ribs. Under him, your body went lax and pliant, spent with the first climax you had experienced under his careful touches. “You just needed a dragon to warm you up.” He licked at the sweat collecting in the hollow of your throat, before finally pressing a kiss to your lips.

This time, you answered. You took his lower lip between yours, playfully. You could taste and smell yourself on him, and it was more alluring than what you had ever thought.

“Good.” He said, pulling back. He started to undo his breeches, and you felt panic grip at you some more. This was it. You had to fulfill your end of the deal with him, let him take you. As if he could feel your nerves, Daemon rubbed your thigh, affectionate. “Do not fret, zoklītsos. You will enjoy this, too.”

“It is meant to hurt.” You answered him, pouting. He tapped at your lower lip, gently.

“Put that away, before I have to bite it.” Daemon took out his cock and rubbed it up and down your folds, gathering the wetness. Despite your fears, a wave of desire overtook you. His fingers had felt good, so had his tongue. You wondered if this, too, could be pleasurable. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many bastards being born in Westeros, right? But you were supposed to bleed. Bleeding was not pleasant, ever.

“I…” You grabbed at one of his hands, holding on for dear life. He may not have been your choice of husband, but he had vowed to protect you under his gods, standing in the sand and mixing your blood with him. Daemon took his valyrian vows seriously. You were desperate for any scraps of reassurance he was willing to give, even if in normal circumstances you would have rather died than be helped by him.

“It won’t hurt.” Daemon said, kissing your forehead. You looked up at him, eyes wide in fear. He squeezed your hand and lined himself up. You felt the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and wondered what it looked like. It felt blunt, and it was very warm. “I will do it on one thrust, like ripping a bandage off. You probably don’t have your maidenhead, with how fond you are of riding. And if you do, you are more than wet enough.”

“Lady Manderly said it hurt her, the first time.” You pouted again, and this time, he did good on his promise. He leaned down and kissed you, biting at your lower lip playfully.

“She has a fool for a husband.” Daemon muttered, kissing your ear. You shivered, nearly mewling. You weren’t aware of how sensitive you were there. “Trust me on this. I know more about it.”

“Taken many maidenheads?” You remarked, with a hint of a teasing smile on your lips.

“Jealous, ice queen?” Daemon licked a strip down the base of your neck towards your jaw. “You will have to admit you know little of the topic.”

“I would say I know plenty.” You answered, glowering, just as he thrust inside of you, seemingly tired of the conversation. At the sudden feeling of fullness, you yelped. But there was no pain, as he had promised. Only an odd feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim, and a slight discomfort. “Rude.”

Daemon smirked. He stayed still, letting you time to adjust. You took a deep breath, and shifted to rest your weight on your elbows, to take a curious look at where you were joined. To your disappointment, you could only see a cloud of light hair, mixing with yours, hips impossibly close.

“Did it hurt?” Daemon flicked at your pearl, absent-mindedly. He groaned when that made your walls tighten around him.

You glared.

“No.”

“You silly girl.” He laughed, starting to thrust. The friction felt good immediately, and you moaned, grabbing at his shoulders. “And you thought fucking could only be done on your hands and knees.”

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to cling to him, mouth falling open in moans you were unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Fucking is a pleasure.” Daemon insisted, pinching at one of your nipples, You whined. He could be telling you the secrets of the realm, and you wouldn’t care. “And I will teach you all about it.” He grunted in your ear.

You were too gone to care about his smugness. Your heels dug into his back, pulling him closer and closer. You met him thrust by thrust, scratching at his back until your nails were bloody. Daemon kissed you and tugged at your hair, desperate to claim you. You could hear his silent laughter, feel his mocking smile against your skin. He had finally gotten what he wanted, a reaction out of you. It could not be faked, this pure, raw emotion. Soon, his fingers found their way to your button, making you whine and squirm. It was too much for your poor, abused body. You screamed his name as you reached your second peak of the night.

Daemon thrust several more times, practically vibrating with smugness. He grabbed at your body, fingers digging in the flesh, surely bruising your hips. His mouth was slightly parted, and something stirred in you at seeing him so raw. Daemon had been right, you realized. Many moons before, he had said bodies spoke and were honest in ways their owners were not. And so, you let yours speak, tugging at his hair, sucking bruises in his pale neck. Perhaps there was something there, in the way he held you closer, shuddering and spilling himself with a muffled cry. Something that mere lust couldn't explain.

You both laid there, panting. Daemon looked down at you, and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I think, Lady Wife, that the coldness of the North might just be bearable.”

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Dark HOTD - You allow them to visit brothels

Dark Daemon, Aegon, Aemond and Jace.

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

(female reader)

WARNINGS: Mentions of Non-con; Breeding kink.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

Daemon

Daemon is actually amused when you bring this up. He’ll smirk as you lie that you only want him to be fully pleased with the touch of professional women instead of you, but he can see right through your facade.

You clearly want him to leave you alone. Okay, so maybe he is relentless, compelling you to have sex multiple times a day but how is he supposed to resist to your magnificent body? 

Daemon will twist your words, instead. If you’re “concerned” about not being able to fully satisfy his carnal needs then don’t worry, he’ll teach you.

He’ll take on every opportunity to teach you and it becomes a kink for him. To give you lesson on how to give and take pleasure, educating his pure wife how to properly fuck.

You’ll end up being caught by servants one too many times on your knees, head between Daemon’s legs as his hand envelops your hair, guiding you to suck him off. 

"Do not worry, my love. I understand how afraid you are of the possibility of not being able to give me pleasure but I assure you that from now on I'll take upon myself the task of teaching you the depths of pleasure."

Aegon

Now, why would Aegon still visit brothels when he finally has a wife that can take care of him?

Not to mention that you’re now the only source of pleasure and lust for Aegon, you’re all he can think about. Not a moment goes by without him trying to allure you back into your private chambers for a quick release. 

It’s clear that you don’t like it but he doesn’t care. It’s your duty as wife, you’re there to please him, whether you like it or not.

And even if you outrightly try to refuse him, Aegon will just force you to do his bidding. Nice try but Aegon isn’t gonna give up on his favorite plaything. 

"Did you truly believe that I'd still visit those filthy whores when I finally have you? My pretty wife whose duty is to please me? If you wish to apologize to your husband, then get on your knees."

Aemond

Aemond will remain silent as you speak, analyzing you as you stutter words out. The only answer you get from him is a cryptic hmm and then he dives back into the book, so unbothered that you feel like he didn’t even listen to any of your words. 

And yet night after night, Aemond still comes to share a marital bed with you. If you really thought that he’d visit brothels instead of you, then you don’t know enough of Aemond. He doesn’t enjoy brothels, they’re filthy and gross. 

He can’t cum to anyone else other than you, his beautiful wife. It’s a mix between lust and possessive, that you’re his, fully his. 

It’s his cock that stretches you every night, it’s his cum that sticks inside of you and soon it will be his child to grow in your belly. You’re the only one that should bear his children, the true Targaryen blood. 

You’re the only one that he’ll bed, independently of how you feel about that. 

"I have no interest in seeking pleasure outside of our marital bed so you may forget about that topic. Or did you sincerely hope that I’d accept that offer? Either way, that won’t be happening."

Jace 

Jace isn’t going to be much pleased when you mention this. You’re married to each other and he wants both of you to be completely and entirely faithful to each other. 

He dotes on you so much, trying to be a good husband and here you come, throwing shameful suggestions onto him. 

Jace is going to be so mad that he won’t talk to you for a whole day as he cools down. Afterwards, he’s going to have an honest conversation on how he wants your marriage to work and for both of you to be fully devoted to each other.

He’ll let you know that he wants you, in every possible way and that isn’t going to change. He’ll make a clear point of informing you that you will be sharing chambers and a bed every night and that won’t change, no matter what. 

If you don’t feel inclined to make love on some night when you’re feeling unwell, then you should inform him and nothing needs to happen, but Jace makes it crystal clear that he won’t be seeking pleasure in anyone but you. 

"Do not insult me with this vile proposal, my wife. My body and soul belong entirely to you, so do not fear me. Our union will simply be the proof of my burning love for you."

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End (End I)

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, talks about abortion, violence, and other very dark things. 

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.1 k

Notes: Here it is! one of the two possible endings! hehe THIS IS THE HAPPY ONE the dark OG one is coming in the next days...

Today was the summit

Aemond thought bitterly, as he woke up and you were not there by his side, he looked towards the window and there you were, sitting there, looking at the ocean through the bars he had installed. 

You tended to do that a lot

You barely spoke, you barely moved, you barely eat

And it was not going to improve, no matter how… soft… he had became with you

“Good morning”, he said raising from his bed and walking to you, your eyes looked like the ones of someone who was no longer there, no longer living 

You didn’t answer 

“Today will be the negotiation for your release”, he said, and that is when, for a second, he saw relief

That settles it then

“I’ll send a maester in, to check you”

If you were with child

You said nothing, you waited until the old man returned

“My lady, if you will”, he asked, signaling to the bed

What you didn’t know, is that regardless of what he found, by order of the Dowager Queen… he was supposed to say only one thing

“She is not with child your grace”, he said to the Prince

The sadness in Aemond’s eyes was priceless to watch, but not the anger that came after

To no surprise, he fucked you roughly

One last time

The summoning of the two fighting monarchs and the all the great lords of the seven Kingdoms took two full moons 

Harrenhall was the chosen place for the meeting, in open air, no hiding, no tricks, no nothing

Finally they met, face to face, Rhaenyra and Aegon

“Give me back my daughter”, demanded Rhaenyra, it was the first thing she said, Aemond stood there by his brother unmoving, only a smirk on his face as he saw Luke almost hiding behind Daemon

“How ungrateful sister”, muttered Aegon, amused, “my brother saved your daughter from the wild waters of Shipwreck bay”, Borros had the audacity to laugh at that

“And we saved your cunt of a grandfather from messing with the triarchy, you should thank us, they are not to be trusted”, said Daemon, Aegon giggled childishly

“Very well uncle, so let’s solve this, we have something you want, and you have something that… well, is in our best interest to recuperate”, alicent twisted and turned in her place

Rhaenyra frowned

She wanted her daughter back more than they wanted Otto

All the Lords, the most important men and women of the realm where there 

Lannister, Tyrell, HIghtower, Tully, Arryn, Stark, Baratheon.

“We could plunge this Kingdom into war, or we can solve this as adults”, said Rhaenyra

“I agree”, said Aegon, “I’m the male heir, the crown is mine, as simple as that”

“My father, the late King proclaimed me heir, and all these Lord swore allegiance to me”, Alicent, with a deep scowl, shook her head

“To my side, all the lords that will follow my father's King Viserys wish, and proclaim me Queen”, Rhaenyra demanded, Aegon laughed, but stopped as soon as Tyrell, Tully, Arryn, and Stark walked to her side 

“The Reach will side with King Aegon”, proclaimed Lord HIghtower

“I’m sorry my Lord Hightower, but you do not rule the Reach”, Lady Tyrell proclaimed, “I do, in the name of my son”, she said firmly, “And we will side with the rightful heir, Queen Rhaenyra”

“Dorne will not dance with dragons”, said another, but still, Rhaenyra had 4 of the Seven Kingdoms, and the majority of the Crownlands 

“Before we start the negotiations, I want to see my daughter”, she demanded, “and I’ll let you see your father, Alicent”, she spoke, looking directly at her childhood friend 

“We will exchange hostages at the end of this summit”, said Aegon. Rhaenyra looked to her side, where Cregan Stark looked at them angrily

She had offered her daughter’s hand in marriage to the wolf, and he had said yes, he didn’t deter when she told him that she had been taken hostage… she knew Jace had spoken to him, but he still didn’t deter from his determination

Rhanyra kept stealing glances at his half brother Aemond, he wore a smirk on his lips and changes the weight on his feet, his hands grasped behind his back, standing at the right side of Aegon

This was going to be long… 

It was three days of negotiations

Three full days until they could reach the next conclusion

Aegon was going to rule from the capital those Kingdoms that wanted to serve him, even though that led to confusion amongst the Reach, and the Crownlands, who were divided 

The hostages were going to be exchanged

Much to Aemond’s disagreement 

But he said nothing

He himself brought you forwards

He had selected for you to wear a low cut green dress, to humiliate you, to show the most important lords and ladies of the realm the marks he had left on you, hands around your neck, bites in your collarbones, bruises. Rhaenyra whimpered when she saw you, hiding her horrified expression with a hand in her mouth

“Don’t you have a proposition to make to our sister, Aemond?”, asked Aegon mockingly, “to marry our lovely niece?”

The brothers had discussed surrendering the life of his grandfather, in exchange of you marrying Aemond, but he had decided against it

No matter how much he desired you, to have you by his side, he could not accept to go back on his word and marry you

“A bastard is not worthy of marrying a Prince”, he said out loud, shaking you still in his grasp until he made you whine in protest, “And I will not marry spoiled goods”, he continued with a sick smile.

His words stang, and you felt ashamed and embarrassed, your mother was there, right in front of you, and yet, you didn’t even dare to raise your head to look at her, you had been weak and you let her down, you let Aemond defile you, you put her in jeopardy.

Aemond at the same time, looked around and he did not see looks of approval or sarcasm, he saw looks of disgust… Directed at him

Directly at him

Not at you

At him

He was just like his brother

Both Green brothers, rapists, defiling women who did nothing wrong… raping them. He even looked at the eyes of their allies, the Lannsiter and Baratheon and not even them were looking back at him

He release you then, you stumbled forwards and your mother, not caring what other might think, she rushed to enemy lines to catch you in her loving arms, she hugged you tightly against her chest

“I’m here!”, she cried into your ear as she kissed your hair, “my sweet sweet girl, I’m here”, then you hugged her back

“Mama”, you whispered, not believing that she was real, that you were safe now, her characteristic smell, her voice, her hair, the shape of her arms and chest… it was her, you were safe

“My girl”, she repeated, “you are safe now, I got you”, she draw you back to her side, where Daemon and Luke received you with relieved faces, and tight hugs

They in turn, released Otto

Alicent was horrified when she saw the emaciated look on his face, his hair and gotten white, and he couldn’t even mutter a word

The brothers didn’t care enough to do or say something

They had taken your maidenhead

And Rhaenyra took his tongue

A fair exchange they believed

You didn't care for anyone but your mother, father and siblings, who doted on you all the journey back to Dragonstone, all of them, except from Jace

You didn’t know why, but he could barely look at you, and after he expressed his relief that you were alright and safe, he chose to stay far from your sight

It pained you, but you didn't push it 

You were home

You actually cried when you saw the castle in the horizon

And you did what you could best to not think of Aemond

He had fucked you that last time and then he took you to the summit himself on his dragon, he never spoke a word to you again.

And the maester had said you were not with child, so, why did you felt so terrible? your breasts were tender and you wanted to throw up

At first you thought it was because of how nervous you were

But when you were safe, on firm land, in Dragonstone… And the nausea didn’t leave you

You didn’t tell your mother, yet, she called a maester into your rooms, to check on you either way…

Turns out… the maester from King’s Landing was wrong… you were indeed with child

You said nothing, you didn't spoke much either way, but Rhaenyra sat by your side on the bed and hold you, caressed your hair, and whispered words of encouragement

“Everything is going to be alright my sweet girl, don't you worry”, she assured you, as she rose from the bed to talk to Maester Munkun

“She is too far along your grace, almost three moons, any attempts against the child in the princess’ belly could have dire consequences on her”, you heard him say

“Are you sure?”, you asked softly, the Maester, who should be offended, only smiled softly at you

“I never miss pregnancies your grace”, he said softly

Why didn’t the Maester of King’s Landing miss it? Perhaps he did on purpose 

For Aemond to let you go…

The maester left after giving your mother some instructions, and she looked at you, trying to analyze the calm expression on your face

“Darling… are you alright?”, she asked softly, you only nodded

“The maester in King's Landing lied mom”, you said softly, “he said that i’m not with child, I gather he said so, so Aemond would let me go”, you explained

“Much likely, yes”, she said softly, she returned to your side, sitting by your side on the bed, “my darling, I will find someone you will marry, it is imperative..”

“I don’t want to get married”, you whined looking back at her, she tried to smile, but the concern in her face…

“My love, your child… if you don’t marry…”, you placed your hand on your lower belly

“But you are Queen”, you said softly, “you can have him or her legitimized”, she smiled softly

“Yes I can, and I will do that, if that is what you desire”, she said, her uneasy gaze on you at all times

“I do not think I can handle a man… touching me… yet”, you explained, and she nodded quickly, she grabbed your hands, you did not reject her touch, you could never, if anything, made you feel better, it grounded you, soothed you

She was concerned for you, you could tell, but you still didn’t know what to say

“I need to know you are alright with this”, she said softly

“I am”, you said softly

You were just glad to be home, you were just glad that since you were with your family, you didn’t have nightmares, and if you didn’t look into the mirror… you were fine because the bruises and pain Aemond has caused you was diminishing by day…

And the child, well, you supposed you were accustomed to the idea since the first time he had you, it is what happened, and even though a week ago that maester had said you were not with child, in the bottom of your heart, you didn’t believe him anyways. 

And your calmness seemed to unnerve your mother

“I’ll leave, if you need anything”

“I’m fine mama”, you said, smiling encouragingly, she barely nodded, and left you

She left you, it was a beautiful day when you looked out the window and you decided you were going to read by it, a book of legends about love and knights….

But Luke entered your room after a few hours

“Aemond showed me the letter you send him”, you said smiling widely, you rose from your seat and embraced your brother, he hugged you back, “You tried to recuperate me, my brave little brother”

“It wasn’t enough”, he lamented

“Yes it was”, you said gently, you released him, and he smiled at you

“I thought you’d like some company”

Since you arrived a couple of days ago, you didn't want to leave your rooms

“You thought right”, you smiled, and you both both sat at the wooden table in the corner of the room

“I heard mother say… are you with child?”, he asked softly, you nodded

“Yes I am” 

“Does he… know?”, you shook your head

“And we have to keep it that way Luke”, you said back, “He can’t know”

“I think is safe to say, you are safe here, the greens have no friends amongst us”, he said, and you nodded

“How is Jace?”, you asked, he frowned

“He is… sorry he hasn't been here to see you”

“No he is not”, you said

“He is angry”, he assumed, “very angry, and he doesn't know who to be angry with… “

“He has always been a bit hot headed”, you said gently, “the blood of the dragon and all”. You missed your brother

“He is angry at the situation, not at you”, he said softly

Lucerys left you when the sun hid in the horizon…. and at night, Jace has decided to pay you a visit, as you thought, he was angry… very angry

“Is it true?”, he asked, you only looked at him from your bed, “you are pregnant with his bastard?” he asked then, you whimpered, the manner he spoke to you… so angrily, reminded you of Aemond

“Yes Jace…”, you said softly and he growled, frustrated

“How could you…?”

“There is nothing we can do”, you explained softly

“Why are you so calm? about everything? he raped you! tortured you”

“Yes he did jace”

“He ruined your life”

“I know”, you said softly

“Do you know what we had to do to prevent Daemon from burning King’s Landing to the ground? he took all his anger and rage on…”

“Otto Hightower I gather”, you muttered

“WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING CALM?!”, Lucerys was right he was not angry at you, he was angry at the situation, he was as you should be

“There is nothing we can do, its done, Jace, I’m here with you, I’m safe again, its over”, you said, and he finally calmed himself down, looking at you wide eyed

And then… he exploded

He cried, your older brother, eighteen year old, cried right then and there in front of you, wept, as he fell by your side and hugged you tightly

“I was so scared”, he whined, and you could only caress his dark hairs and shush him, “that he was going to… kill you…”

“We cannot hold this hate in our hearts Jace, look at what it did to him”, you whispered, “we have to forgive and forget or else, it going to eat us alive”

. . .

Moons passed

Five more, to be exact, and your belly had grown, as much as your excitement.

At first, you were scared, very scared, frightened, but everything changed once you started feeling him or her, moving inside of you, kicking you softly, you started feeling curious about your child, who was going to look like

You really hoped it was a girl, so she could keep you company, but at the same time, you stated feeling scared if she was a girl

The world hurt little girls

It was better if he was a boy, but if he was… he was going to be teased for being a bastard, mistreated even… 

You were conflicted

What you did know though, is that it was going to be so so loved, his uncles and aunties, Rhaena and Baela, your mother, Viserys and Aegon, Dameon, were going to love him or her, so so much

You mother was going to declare her or him legitimate, she was going to be a Targaryen, that is all that mattered

Luke wouldn’t part your side and consequently, neither did Rhaena, they were your rock

Your mother as well, but she couldn’t help but look sadly at you

And Daemon? as Jace, he found trouble having his own peace, at some point, he even blamed himself for not burning the Greens sooner.

But you had made your piece

When you were finishing your 8th moon, Cregan Stark came to Dragonstone

You were greatly surprised when on his second day, he asked for an audience with you

You sat in the great hall nervously, you were to have chaperones, Luke and Jace, but still, you got so nervous when the imposing man entered the hall at Jace’s side

“There she is”, said Jace with a nervous smile

“Here I am”, you said, you didn’t dare to stand, the table hiding your belly

“Your grace, your beauty is greater than the songs they sing”, he said, he was handsome, young, tall and broad, pitch black hair, and piercing gray eyes, his fur cape only help to enlarge his figure

“You are too kind”, you said softly

He looked at your brother strangely, they got the hint, and they walked away, directing their attention elsewhere

“I wanted an audience with you because, when prince Jacaerys flied North to seek my alliance, in said alliance, there was a promise for your hand”

“Yes my Lord, I’m aware”, you muttered, he was there at the summit, he had witnessed and saw what Aemond did to you, everyone knew and was witness to it

“I expressed your mother the Queen of my desires to continued said alliance”, he said firmly, but with a gentle smile

He wanted to marry you

“My lord…”, you started

“I know many things have happened in between, but my desire hasn't diminished… I…” you stood up from the table, revealing your pregnant belly to him, he got quiet all of a sudden

“I’m very sorry my lord, it would have been the joy of my life, but.. as you can see, I am not the maiden my brother promised almost a year ago I… I’m afraid I’m spoiled now… I’m expecting a child…”, Jace turn to look at you, white as paper

Cregan was not surprised, he looked like he expected it

“That is fine, your grace, because… I also have a child, my heir, a sweet boy of four name days, Rickon… if I may be so forward, he needs a sweet, good mother figure, and your child will need, in turn…”, you smiled

“I’m spoiled goods My Lord”, you said smiling sadly, he went forwards, his closeness didn’t scared you, he took the liberty of grabbing your hand

“You are not goods, my lovely, you are a princess, and I’m going to love and care for your child, as I’m sure you are going to love and care for mine”, he said, with such conviction in his eyes, “someday we might even… have some children of our own, only if you so please to”

“What are the Lords and Ladies of the North going to say?”, you asked then

“I’ve been away from my home long enough so nobody will ask many questions”, he said gently

“May I have a couple of days to think about it?”, you asked, smiling at him, he smiled 

“Of course”, he leaned in and kissed your hand 

it was a tough decision, not like you had too much to think about

You were lucky, terribly Lucky that the third most powerful man in the Kingdoms wanted to marry YOU, pregnant and all, but on the other side, the thought of leaving your home broke your heart

You wanted to be home, with your mother and father, and siblings

You knew you could be happy here 

Aemond had married a Baratheon, not that you cared, he had been exiled to the Storm’s End, you knew because Daemon had mocked in at dinner

Thanks to Mysaria you had ears and eyes all over the Kingdoms

You wondered if they had to

If they knew you were expecting his child

You wondered what would happen when he finds out because, he said clearly he was not going to let you go

But you didn't care, you were safe

Whatever you chose, you were going to be fine

Cregan soothed you, and he had express that you had until the baby was born to make a decision

So you spend the last moon of your pregnancy in company of your family 

. . .

“Push, my sweet girl”, cried your mother, kissing your sweaty temple

“AARRRGGHHHHH!”, a scream ripped your throat as you did, with all strength, pushed as hard as you could

“I can see the head sweet princess, just one more”, said the Midwife sweetly

“AHHH FUCK CUNT BITCH!”, you cursed all the words in the books, you swore you could hear Daemon laugh at the other side of the door

And then, a feeling of relief, the midwives cheered and then

The cry of your child

“It’s a boy, your grace! kicking like a horse, strong like one too”, your mother laughed, relieved, and so did you 

It was short minutes and then they placed your clean baby in your awaiting arms

He was so small, tiny, with silver hair and red face, he was crying loudly, a good set of lungs in him

“My son”, you said triumphantly 

It was some hours later, after they cleaned you and ready you, that your mother allowed people to come and see you, Lucerys was the first one inside 

You passed your sleeping son into his arms

“He is so small!”, he said with a wide smile, “what’s his name?”, he asked

“Aerion”, you answered with a wide smile

your entire family entered the room to gaze at your son, over Luke’s shoulder

“He’s got my nose”, said Daemon, all of them laughed, including you 

“But he has my eyes”, said Rhaenyra

“the blood of the Dragon runs thick on him”

Even Corlys and Rhaenys entered the room to see your baby

“He's just gorgeous!”, cooed Rhaenys, taking him in her arms and cradling him against her chest, “you are going to be a real dragon rider, aren’t you? you are going to claim Vermithor! or Silverwing” 

“I want him to take the Velaryon name”, said Corlys, “like you, my sweet girl”, you smiled, your eyes filled with tears

“Really?”, you cried

“Of course”

Despite everything, and even though you had been through hell… You know you were going to be alright 

You had your family, you had your son who you needed to be strong for 

You were safe

You were fine

It took you five moons to realize it, to sleep through the night, not to wake, alarmed, thinking he was going to enter your rooms to choke you and rape you

That you were fine 

That you were never going not see him again

That he was never going to see YOUR son

With Cregan…

You accepted to Marry Cregan, you married in a Valyrian ceremony after you recuperated form giving birth, and when you reached Winterfell,  you married there again, in the Godswood

He gave you space, and won your trust a little step at a time, no even a year in, an you shared your chambers and your bed with him, he had been so incredible patient, you fell in love with him, as with his son, who accepted you as his mother

Cregan took your son in, a dragon hatched in his crib, to everyone’s surprise 

After two years, to gave birth to a little girl, with dark hair and lilac eyes, and a year later a set of twin boys

You never saw Aemond again, he never saw your son, you didn't even knew if he knew about his existence

But he knew, he knew and he spend the rest of his life tortured

He married Floris Baratheon but it was an unhappy marriage, he didn’t manage to give her children, and she hated him for it

He of course blamed her 

He never forgot about you 

In Dragonstone...

You decided to stay home with your child, to be raised with his baby dragon in Dragonstone, he grew up loved and cared for, by all your family

Jace married Baela, Luke married Rhaena, and you were there to see it

Eventually, when Aerion was three, you fell in love with the second son of House Celtigar, who had come to court to serve your mother, you married, and lived happily in Dragonstone with him… 

Aemond never saw your child or you again, but he demanded Larys for information every day, for the rest of his life, he could only hear how your son was great with the sword, smart and cunning, a great dragon rider, a perfect prince, without him. 

THE END 

taglist!

@lightdragonrayne @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @twobluejeans @toodlesxcuddles @sassysaxsolo @thearchitectoflove @maidmerrymint @floralsightings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @glendarollitkatharinesanders @ruhjkie @starkjedi @baconturtle @aleemendoza2425-blog @ahristata @dlwlrmas-world @yentroucnagol @hiraethrhapsody @alwaysholymilkshake @marihoneywk @belladonna00 @strangersunghoon @anehkael @t0uch-starved-h0e @hkmultifandom @letmehavemyfictionalmen @belcalis9503 @daddydaemonswife @daemontargaryenwhore @bash1018 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ninastyless @strangersunghoon @bellstwd @yoshiplush 

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Masterlist)

This is the masterlist/moodboard/summary for my new series called "Byka Atroksia". It's a story between Daemon Targaryen x reader (Vhaela Targaryen)

First of all: This story is based on the HBO/Max TV show House of the Dragon and the works of George R R Martin. I don't own any of the characters.

This story should only be read by people over 18 years as it contains adult content.

You can find the following themes in this story: HIGHLY detailed smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), gagging, p in v, unprotected sex, period sex, praising, degrading, edging, overstimulating, blindfolding, some non-con choking, body image issues, angst, mentions of period and pregnancy, incest, inappropriate relationship between uncle and niece, power imbalance, morally questionable behaviour, abusive behaviour, sexual abuse (not performed by Daemon!)

Disclaimer: I am aware that the dynamic of this relationship is problematic as Vhaela's inferiority complexes cause her to search for Daemon's attention. So please be careful while reading this and have in mind that this kind of relationship is neither healthy nor desirable. Daemon is a bad person. His actions are irresponsible and unethical and he manipulates Vhaela. Don't try at home please.

Disclaimer 2.0: The G Spot: In this story I mention the g spot (even though the characters obviously don't know this term for it and what exactly it is) as a way for women to receive pleasure. I know that the existance of it is controversial and it's not scientifically proven that something similar exists. However, I still decided to include it in my story so my main character is able to receive pleasure by vaginal sex, but be aware that a lot of women don't get pleasure plainly by vaginal sex. I just don't want to portray a false image of what sex is supposed to be like so I felt the need to write a short paragraph about it.

Summary: Vhaela Targaryen is the younger sister to Rhaenyra Targaryen and has all her life felt like she was competing with her sister for their interesting and dangerous uncle's attention. In Vhaela's mind her beautiful and confident sister has already won this fight but when Daemon Targaryen returns from a battle at the Stepstones things seem to be a little different and she explores a whole new world of emotions.

Smut is marked with *

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 * (very light smut) Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 *

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part eight

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

TW: Murder. Non-Con.

series masterlist |

"If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married." - loml, Taylor Swift.

(TARGARYEN RESIDENCE. 2008)

It was a hail mary from the beginning. Two people who had everything to lose, plotting to have more than they could handle. "She must've known." Alicent breathes, playing with the rosary-styled bracelet on her left wrist. "- I told you not to cheap out on the assassins. We'll get the money back anyways." she scolded.

Her grip on the bracelet tightened. Viserys' took a deep breath.

"I did not hire mediocre mercenaries. It was a recommendation from the goddamn Governor of Texas. If you're searching for good mercenaries, you're not gonna find them because people who kill people for a living don't have a moral compass." he gritted his teeth. His anger doubling at every second he spent in his wife's presence.

"I couldn't care less about their moral compass. You should've hired someone who had a follow through." she hissed, glaring at him. "I'm sorry but I'm not the one who wanted Olivia L/N dead." he groaned, standing up and attempting to exit the door.

She stares at the side, the sight of a crucifix snapping her back into reality. "I don't like the role that you're giving me, Viserys." her voice cracked, her fingers dancing along every bead. Along every Hail Mary. Her breath hitched for a second.

Fearing the person that she's become.

He made her this way. He manipulated her, made her believe that the love that they shared was true. He made her fight for every scrap of his love. He made her a monster. Now, she was finally thirty, fifteen would never cross her mind. "You're the one who wanted to give your children part of Aemma's company. I was following your wishes." he tried to flip the table at her.

Our children. She wanted to correct him.

It might've been her idea, but he didn't give her a choice. Her children would live in poverty without the money that Aemma provided. Alicent didn't have a job. She didn't even finish High School, and it was obvious that Viserys wasn't going to be around for long.

"Don't worry about Olivia. She doesn't have the guts to sue us. I hope that you learn to be content with what you've been provided. Not everything has to be handed on a silver spoon." Viserys remarked.

Aemond breathes. "They're fighting again." he spoke through the landline. Fighting was a normal occurrence in the Targaryen Household, it was always about the inheritance.

"Mom ought to accept that the old man isn't gonna leave us a single dime." Aegon chuckled. His older brother long accepted the fact that Viserys hated all his children from his second-marriage.

"- Rhaenyra has always been the golden child. I don't know why we bother." he added with an eye-roll.

Aemond pressed his lips closer to the microphone. "Dad hired someone to kill Aunt Olivia." he dropped the bomb, and the other line answered with silence. "- Mom figured that if Aunt Olivia died, then all the shares would go to Dad, and there'll be enough for us." he whispered, careful not to be heard.

"He'd rather have someone murdered than give us a tiny piece of Rhaenyra's billion dollar inheritance? I study in New York. I should kill Aunt Olive, make Mom proud for once." his lips pressed into a thin line, seriously considering that random thought.

The younger brother responds with a chuckle.

"You won't do that Aegon. You're not actually a murderer." he laughed, thinking that it was his older brother's way of making a joke. Aegon licks his lips. Right, not a murderer.

OLIVIA L/N FOUND DEAD IN AN NYC APARTMENT WITH NO CURRENT SUSPECTS, POLICE SOURCES SAY.

NEW YORK -- Police sources are revealing more details about a murder in Manhattan. They say that the New York City Police Department is currently conducting investigations about possible motives for the crime.

It happened in Upper Manhattan, sources say that the first person that found the body was Ms. Olivia L/N's daughter, then a neighbor that chooses to remain anonymous.

Olivia L/N is the co-founder of Dragonpine Brewery, which has now expanded into different industries including real estate, technology, and pharmaceuticals. She currently owns 49% of Dragonpine Brewery, but all shares are expected to return to Viserys Targaryen, who too, owns 49% of the company.

The medical examiner ruled her death a homicide due to the blunt force trauma to the head, and stab wounds on her stomach.

Anyone with any information is asked to call the NYPD's Crime Stoppers hotline at 1-***-***-TIPS. ALL CALLS ARE KEPT CONFIDENTIAL.

(PRESENT)

Daemon couldn't stop pacing and forth. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit anything important. You could still use your ankle normally in the future, but it would take time to heal.

"It's a medical miracle. It's the first time I've seen it happen." he remarks, trying to calm himself down.

The entire thing was difficult to process. He found it hard to believe that Aemond suddenly lost all semblance of normalcy and broke. "The gun wasn't registered. He could face charges, unless Alicent drives by with her golden chariot and bribes the judge again." he rolled his eyes, unwilling to let his nephew live scot-free.

"I told her about Aemond's past, the case with the girl and Nick. She could've confronted him about it, brought memories that he couldn't handle. He could've been guilty." Rhaenyra suggested, shaking her head. "Where is he?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

He peeked through the halls, searching for his nephew's familiar silver-gold locks. "Down at the police station. Jace tells me that Aemond's shaken. Unable to form any statement." she adds with a deep breath. Aware that the story was reaching its climax.

"Alicent won't let him speak anyways. Where's Helaena?" he paused, reminded of his youngest niece. "She's babysitting the kids. Daemon, role-calling everyone won't be enough to distract you from Y/N. She's a wall away, I can hear her heart monitor from here." she pointed out.

Clearly as nervous as he was.

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that we're given a second chance at everything, but we're still making the same mistakes." he sat down on the bench beside her.

He wanted to be a better person. Make his life worthwhile, but with the people around him repeating the same mistakes over and over. "I feel like I'm trapped inside a paradox. We'll die, then we'll get reborn and repeat everything again. It's like that show we watched. Are we in the Bad Place?" his eyebrows merged together.

"I don't know, Daemon. It feels like hell, but then I see my sons and I wouldn't trade this life for anything else." she had a bitter smile on her face. A nurse steps out of your room.

Daemon rises to his feet.

"Is she awake?" he inquired.

"No. I don't think that I'm at liberty to say this but - being unconscious for this long isn't normal. They'll do some tests, but I'm sure she'll be fine." the nurse felt inclined to speak out, seeing Daemon's worried face.

"Are you her boyfriend?" the nurse asked.

Rhaenyra's face softened. "It's complicated." she bit her lower lip.

(HARRENHAL.)

TW: NON CON SCENE (WILL STATE WHEN IT'S OVER SO YOU CAN SCROLL DOWN TO IT)

You breathe in the smell of smoke. Harrenhal was a curse.

"You will die here." you whispered, the prophetic visions finally finding solace inside of you, like they've found solace in Alys.

"You dampen the mood." Aemond pours himself a goblet of wine. "- it will not stop me from having my way." he reminded.

"I know." you whispered.

"We won't be needing this," he stated, cutting swiftly through your gown. He was staring at your body with the intensity of a thousand stars - you could've sworn that it was love - but it was not. "Why are you doing this?" you whisper, covering your breasts.

He does not acknowledge the use of your tongue. He ignores you. He presses a kiss to your jaw, inhaling the scent of your jasmine perfume. A prisoner has never lived more lavishly than you. "Riñītsos," he answered, hands trailing down to pull yours away.

"You sleep beside my sister knowing such stain is upon your honor." you gritted your teeth.

"Stomach up." he commanded - eyes twinkling with lust. "Legs open," he added - seeing you in the vulnerable position.

You couldn't remember anything that happened afterwards.

(NON-CON SCENE OVER)

"I care not about what he's done to your husband. I care more about what you had to go through." Alys looked at you in a crestfallen way. She vowed to protect you, but her visions clouded her judgement. Made her believe that Aemond was their savior.

"It'll be the same tomorrow, Alys, unless you can remedy this curse then rid yourself. Leave my presence." you pleaded, unable to stare into her eyes. The same eyes that you looked at in the mirror. "You may think me cold, that all I've ever grown to love is him. I thought that I could control him, but he is like the wind." she shook her head.

"You cannot catch the wind, sister." your breath quivered.

"What I've done is payment for my sins," she started.

You snap out of the trance. Eyes finally meeting hers.

"What did you do?" you asked.

"I killed him." Alys admitted, only then did you realize the streak of blood of her cheek. "I'm sorry." she apologized, falling to the floor.

"I forgive you." you bite the insides of your cheeks.

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

"There will be a boat going to an island near the Ghiscari Empire. I hope that you find peace there." she handed you three dragons. "What about you?" you tilted her head, feeling the tears trickle down your cheeks. "I must stay." she reminded.

It was the last winter that you'd spend with this body. You lived sixty more years without your husband. Now, you were old and frail - there were lines on the sides of your eyes. Wrinkles that weren't there when your husband was still alive.

"Have some tea." Serenei's daughter beckoned.

You complied.

Feeling every bit of your consciousness slip away.

You had a vision the night before, that this would be your last life. You already broke the karmic chains and learnt all your lessons. There was no need to restart the pain and suffering.

But you sharply argued with the gods.

Told them that you had to be reborn. You needed to see Daemon. You needed a life where you could be with him longer, and happier.

The gods granted you that gift.

And thus, here you are again.

Your throat felt dry; like you haven't drank water in a thousand years. You hear the machine beeping beside you. A feeling of someone's hand on top of yours.

You opened your eyes.

"Daemon," you whispered.

"I remember."

next chapter>>

OK THIS LINE

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

WAS COPIED FROM @faiIwife on twitter. IT MADE MY LIFE IM SORRY.

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin

Ao3 Account

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Born a bastard and later legitimised by King Viserys, Daella Targaryen is thrust into the deadly world of court politics, where power is fleeting and trust is a rare commodity. As the Targaryen family fractures under the weight of rivalry and mistrust, Daella must navigate a web of shifting alliances and hidden agendas. With war on the horizon and dragons poised for battle, she becomes a pawn in the escalating conflict between the Greens and the Blacks. Torn between love and loyalty, Daella must face a harrowing choice that could determine not just her fate, but the future of House Targaryen.

In a world where everyone must choose, those who don’t will perish.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

✧ Chapter One: The Bastard with Violet Eyes

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Two: History

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Three: The Red Keep

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Four: The Girl is a Dragon

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Five: Caraxes

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Six: Helaena

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Seven: Aemond

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Eight: Revelations

Ao3 | Tumblr

✧ Chapter Nine: Coming Soon

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Can u pls do a dark smut fic where reader is a psychiatrist and daemon a psychopathic patient of her and he manages to escape from the clinic and goes to her house because he is obsessed with her

The Psychiatrist

AN: hope you like it! Thanks for being my first request :)

TW: smut, DUBCON, maybe non-con because she starts off sleeping, pussy slapping, choking, somnophilia, dacryphilia, cockwarming

word count: 1,117 words

You have always found Daemon Targaryen to be alluring. His words draw you in as if he sings a siren’s song. You think that he could draw in almost any girl just to drown her. Sometimes, if only for a second, you think that you may let him drown you but you steadfastly push the thought away, trying to suffocate if you can. You’re a psychiatrist for gods’ sake, a professional.

He likes that about you, the way you reject him. He has never been a man who has wanted for much but he wants you, and he wants out of this godforsaken asylum. It doesn’t take so long for him to get the latter. He may be a bit off his kilter but he isn’t stupid. He likes watching as his guard’s life disappears from his eyes; they always underestimated his talents, but you never did. You truly understand him and you love him the way he loves you. He just needs to make you realize it.

It hardly takes him very long to find your house. It’s like you wanted him to find you. He breaks in oh so easily. He’s had quite a bit of practice getting into women’s houses before, but none of them were ever as special as you. He wanders up the stairs and looks at your sleeping form, so pretty wrapped up in blankets with only an oversized t-shirt to clothe you. He begins to lift it at the hem, taking a look at your pretty pink panties. He rubs your thighs gently as he takes his length out from his pants and begins to stroke it. His other hand moves to your hair and brushes it away from your face so he can get a proper look at his girl. He cums quickly at the sight of your soft lips, spending himself on your tummy. The vision of you covered in his seed is enough for him to get hard again. He brushes your panties to the side and begins to rub his fingers through your folds. You shift in your sleep and he watches to see if your eyes will flutter open but they don’t so he climbs onto your bed and moves you a bit so he can get right in between your legs. He gently swipes his fingers across your cunny a few more times before positioning himself at your entrance. He tries to go slow, barely putting an inch of himself in so it doesn’t hurt or wake you but he fails, shoving himself into you completely and filling you to the brim.

“Ah!” You squeal, finally waking up at the intrusion. Your eyes fall upon him. “Daemon?!”

“Shhh, my good girl.” He coos and grabs you by the wrists as your hands begin to flail and push at his chest. He pins your arms above your head as he starts thrusting into you viciously. 

“Daemon, stop! What are you-how are you… j-just stop!” You whine as his pace quickens. The hand that wasn’t pinning your wrists came up to your throat, squeezing slightly as you complained.

“Stop… mewling like a little kitten. I’m just giving you what you want.” Your eyes begin to fill with tears. The sheer size of him being almost too much for you to handle.

“But it doesn’t fit!” You whimper and he smiles as the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“Oh but it does, baby, and you’re taking me so so well.” You pout a little as his cock slams in and out of you. You want to be treated gently but he knows what you need.

“J-ust… slow down.” You beg.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” His eyes darken as he speaks the words. His hand comes up, off your throat to slap you across the cheek, just a warning hit. It doesn’t hurt… much.

“S-Sorry.” You barely manage to get out.

“I know you are, baby.” He fucks into hard and you start to writhe around. “Stop moving and take what I give you.” You immediately quit squirming. 

He lets go of your hands and they quickly move to grip his biceps. He finally brings his lips to yours for a kiss. His mouth moves against your’s bruisingly and his fingers come to your pearl to rub it harshly. You finally let out a proper moan.

“There’s my good girl.” His hips slam against yours and you think that you’ve never been fucked so brutally in your life. He stops touching your pearl for a moment to lift your leg over his shoulder and you begin to whine at the lack of contact but it's cut off by a moan as he somehow manages to get deeper inside of you. “That’s what I thought.” You think he's about to touch you again but you’re surprised as his hand slaps down against your pearl. You flinch dramatically and whimper. “I’ll give you something to whine about.” He slaps it again and once more, causing the tears to flow freely from your eyes.

“No, i’m sorry!” Your little hands come down to try and stop the assault on your pearl but they’re quickly pinned above your head once more.

“Looks like you need more because I love the way you squeeze my cock when I slap this little cunt.” You squeal as he harshly and rapidly smacks your pearl a few more times. When he finally lets up on the abuse, the lack of constant stimulation causes you to cum.

“Daemon…” You whimper out his name as your walls clench tightly around him, milking his cock until he spills deep inside of you.

“Seven hells, you really are my good girl, aren’t you?” He doesn’t pull out, rolling over and taking you with him so that you’re lying on his chest. “You were so perfect. My perfect girl.” He rubs circles on your back as you nuzzle face into his neck. You feel filthy but also… loved. Like the man lying under you would give you the world on a silver platter if you asked. He stays with you for a while, giving you a proper chance to recover from the experience before pulling himself out of you so swiftly that you wince.

“Ah…” He smirks at the cringing look on your face and gets up, out of your bed before fixing his clothing. “Wait where are you going?”

“Baby, I didn’t get out of the asylum on good behaviour. I’ll come back for you though, okay?” You nod slightly but still pout at him. He chuckles and gives you a little kiss on the forehead before slipping out your door and back into the night.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[cluz1babe]

‘Open My Eyes… to Everything that Closes My Heart’

Updated 04 August, 2024

You were a Belaerys, with the Blood of Old Valyria in your veins, future Queen of Sothoryos. Up until eight years before the Dance of Dragons, everyone thought the Belaerys family was gone after the Doom. You were well-respected by everyone except most of the Greens. Despite that, you were officially given a seat on the new High Council. The Hand, Otto Hightower, was trying to bring more countries to their aid, but his excuse was to bring peace between countries. Planning to wed you to Daeron, the Small Council of the Greens are shocked when Aemond refuses to offer you Daeron in order to take you for himself.

Takes place 129 AC (before Viserys’s death) - 133+ AC

MASTERLIST

🌶️ = Smut | 🍭 = SFW/Fluff | 💥 = Angst

Main Pairing : Aemond x You (female reader)

NOTES: From what I can remember about how to pronounce Nahuatl, you pronounce ‘X’ as ‘SH’, and pronounce every letter except ‘H’. Very limited use of ‘Y/N’.

Comments are very appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNINGS (full story) : Talk of Abortion, Emotionally Abusive Relationships (Aegon x Everyone), Alcohol, Blood, Blowjob, Branding, Bullying, Childbirth, Mentions of Rape (no rape of reader) , Death, Drugs, Fire, Hallucinations, Incest, Marriage, Misogyny, Pregnancy, Profanity, Sexism, Slut Shaming, Smut, Violence, War, P in V, Sex, Fingering, No Cheating, MDNI, 18+ , ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy), Slight Breeding Kink, Dub-Con (in the Aegon Bonus Chapter) if you squint

Some Words Before You Start (my brain overworking)

Series PLAYLIST

CHAPTER ONE 🍭 (2k words)

CHAPTER TWO 🍭 (4.2k words)

CHAPTER THREE 🍭🌶️ (3.9k words)

CHAPTER FOUR 🍭🌶️ 💥 (5k words)

CHAPTER FIVE 🍭🌶️ 💥 (6.9k words)

CHAPTER SIX 🍭🌶️ 💥 (4.2k words)

CHAPTER SEVEN 🍭🌶️ 💥 (11.2k words)

EPILOGUE 🍭 (1.3k words)

Epilogue Playlist

BONUS CHAPTERS 🍭 🌶️: (Aegon x Reader , Aemond x Reader , Aemond x Reader x Daemon)

World

Sothoryos (your kingdom , “The Arrow”)

Loicato (your home)

Original Dragons & Other Animals

Targaryen Dragons

Versions of You

Belaerys-Targaryen Family

Belaerys Sigil & House Words

Original Characters

Archive of Our Own (joining is easy & free, you must be logged in to view because AI is combing through AO3 now)

[targaryen-dynasty]

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.

Modern!Daemon Targaryen x au pair/cam girl!Reader

"You didn’t expect your host dad to be back so early, yet things take an interesting turn when he catches you in a compromising situation. What’s better than losing your virginity to a man that knows just what he’s doing?"

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; non/dub-con, semi public sex?, p in v, fingering, praise kink, loss of virginity, oral fixation, rough sex, unprotected sex, female Reader, modern AU

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: This is an older story, slightly edited bcs I didn't want to change too much. Consider it as my gift for reaching 3K followers! You know me: a celebration will follow from 15th of July until the 26th!

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The luxurious apartment is quiet, safe for the soft giggles and moans coming from your bedroom, the door slightly ajar since you’ve anticipated being alone for a little longer. It’s what catches Daemon’s attention as he steps into the dark hallway with all lights turned off and both his sons put to bed. 

Curiosity is what gets the best of him as he approaches the door silently, peering inside of your room with a raised eyebrow. His jaw immediately sets as soon as he notices what exactly you’re up to, knowing all too well despite your back facing the door. 

The black office chair you sit in almost covers your frame completely, directed towards your desk with your laptop opened and Daemon and your large bed merely seeing the back of the chair. 

As a man with ample experience up his sleeve, Daemon can easily gauge what you’re doing. Both your feet are propped up at the edge of the chair, legs spread and bent at the knees, and your forearm slides up and down in a slow but steady rhythm. And if that’s not making it obvious enough already, the faint squelching sounds of your fingers slipping in and out of your cunt are a dead giveaway. 

His desire to respect your privacy is big, but he can’t seem to bring himself to shut the door, leave you alone and act as if nothing has happened. Something dark is stirring deep inside of him, surging to the surface and not allowing him to act rational. He knows what every other host would do, but he’s not like everyone else – even you’ve noticed that very early on in the job – and especially not when he’s handed the one thing he’s wanted for so, so long on a silver platter. You. 

“Do you like watching me?” you hum, far too occupied by the little messages popping up on the screen in front of you. The quiet sigh Daemon makes as he fears that you’ve caught him red-handed goes completely unnoticed by you, and his racing heart quickly calms the moment you slightly lean forward to squint at the screen of your laptop and read the chat. But he’s not sure if it’s his luck or not, because your next words feel as though the air is forced from his lungs, heat spreading in his loins that makes him palm his half-hard cock, lightly stroking it through the fabric of his slacks. 

Tipping your head back against the chair, you release another quiet moan. “I wish you could fuck me right now, hmm, take my virginity.”

The urge to groan is adamant, lingering at the back of his throat, and he takes that as his cue to interrupt, although a part of him also is curious to see how much farther you would go. His strides are leisure as he steps into the room, moving to peek over your shoulder. 

“Now that’s quite an invitation,” he remarks, his voice low and deep. “Do you put on a show like this often, little mouse?”

There is a slight stutter in your arm as you hear his voice behind you, and with merely your pelvic region up to your neck being in view, you allow your facial expression to slip. Though the movements of your hand stop, you let it stay in the exact position – perhaps a part of you wanted to be caught by him all along. 

The neckline of the tank top you wear is pulled down enough for both your perky breasts to spill over the fabric – the damn top you wear almost every evening, prancing around the apartment, entertaining the boys and practically begging for him to devour you wholly – and when heat blossoms in your cheeks, it also runs down to your cleavage. As you try to shut the laptop, Daemon is one step ahead of you, gripping it to keep it open. 

“M… Mister T–” His name dies on your tongue with the realization of your viewers still present and the stream not being muted. “I didn’t expect… I didn’t think you’d be home so–”

He interrupts you with a raised index finger, his darkened eyes shamelessly raking over your exposed body. Even your own eyes trail down to the slight dickprint in the front of his dark slacks, leaving little to the imagination. Your mouth runs dry as you try to make the size out of the outline. 

“Oh, don’t mind me, keep going,” he says, a wicked smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your show. Your audience is waiting, and it seems as if they’re quite enjoying the show you’re putting on for them…or perhaps I should join?”

“Join?” your voice comes out in a squeak, liquid fire spreading through your veins from embarrassment. “I… I don’t think that… the stream… my followers–”

Daemon chuckles. “Oh, come on now, I’m just offering help,” he says in a nonchalant way. “Your viewers would appreciate the extra entertainment, I’m sure. And I know I would as well.”

The feeling of his presence is so adamant as he leans closer towards you — the heat of his body and smell of his scent almost enough to distract you. You can feel your body react, your heart racing in your chest. Your eyes dart to the screen of your laptop, where the chat is bombarded with comments, most of them begging for you to agree while others even offer extra money for him to join. Even if they can’t really see him, they can hear him perfectly clearly and that seems to be enough for them. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter. 

He grabs the chair and turns it around so you’re facing him now. With his hands gripping the armrest on either side of the chair, you’re trapped by him. “Just look at them,” he remarks, nodding towards the screen. You turn your head to the side, eyes meeting the screen again. “Seems like you have some eager viewers, little mouse. They’re practically begging for it, and you should give them what they want.”

You can feel your resolve crumble with every word that leaves his lips, your cunt throbbing at the mere thought. “But… But I have never…” you trail off, fixing your gaze with his. 

“Oh, I know,” he says. “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. Just get on the bed for me, sweetheart.” With his hands leaving the chair, you find yourself able to breathe again, the tension in your body calming slightly. 

Nodding like an utterly obedient thing, you swallow hard, a mixture of excitement and trepidation swirling within you. You follow his instructions, rising from your chair to walk past him towards the bed. His purple eyes all but burn into your body on your way, making you shiver. 

For Daemon, there is no greater pleasure than seeing somebody as obedient as you. Watching you walk past him makes him feel a twitch in his groin, his hard cock straining against the confines of his slacks.

While you crawl onto the bed, Daemon pulls the office chair to the side to clear the view for your audience, a smug smirk adorning his face. He stalks towards the bed, movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. He brings his hand to your face and cups it, his thumb running over your lips. 

You lean into his touch, eagerly opening your mouth to allow him to push his digit inside. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you have always felt drawn to the forbidden. It’s his charisma and the dominance he radiates that has lured you in ever since your first interview, and on top of that, he’s so damn easy on the eyes, you would be stupid to turn him down. 

And what’s better than losing your virginity to a man that has ample experience up his sleeve? One that clearly knows what he’s doing? 

“Now, let’s give them a show they’ll never forget, shall we?” he asks. 

You nod your head while coyly sucking his thumb, finding a weird satisfaction in it that makes you feel completely safe around and guarded by him. Despite you kneeling on the bed, he’s still so much taller than you, looming over your frame to the point you have to crane your neck slightly to maintain the eye contact he has initiated. 

“Such a good girl already,” the older man taunts, fumbling with his slacks. “I’m certain you’ll be a natural.”

It’s astonishing how easily he opens the buttons and zipper of his slacks and pushes them down to his knees only using one hand, and when his briefs follow, your teeth sink into his thumb. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, one that only seems to feed into his amusement, but he’s just so big, standing to full attention already with no ministrations on your part, a slight curve and beads of precome glistening at the tip of his cock. He’s both thick and long, and you’re sure your fingers wouldn’t even meet around its girth if you’d wrap it around. 

“This… It’s not going to fit,” you whisper with a muffled voice, staring up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Oh, little mouse, I’ll make it fit.”

At the sight of him taking himself in his hand and spreading the precome over the tip of his cock, thumb teasing the slit, you moan wantonly around his digit, just like before when you’d fucked yourself with your fingers. 

“On your back, and spread these legs for me,” he demands, pulling his thumb from your lips. It makes you pout, and you lick your lips, chasing the feeling of his thumb pressing down on them. 

Following his instructions, you shift your body and lean back until your head meets the plushy pillows, and spread your legs to give him the perfect view of your cunt, folds swollen and glistening with a desperate need.

Daemon has rid himself off his slacks and briefs, so he’s almost naked – safe for the black shirt he wears. Instead of moving, he stays exactly where he is, striking eyes solely fixed on what lays between your legs as if he’s never seen a naked woman before. 

His gaze is almost too much for you to bear, especially with his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and you’re tempted to squeeze your thighs together and pull your tank top back up – the only thing stopping you is the uncertainty on how he’d react if you did so, and you’re not keen on playing with fire right now. 

Time seems to move slower with the way his gaze all but devours you and the anticipation putting your body on fire, yet the moment also brings a sense of hurry with it. It’s evident that Daemon is desperate to be buried inside of you, because he’s not really taking his time to prepare you for him, simply assuming your fingers have done enough for it already. 

The moment he climbs on the bed, making himself at home between your parted legs, it feels as though the breath is knocked out of your lungs. The anticipation is killing you, you long for something you haven’t felt before; the painful stretch of a cock filling you. Of his cock filling you. 

He smiles at you in an irritatingly smug way, definitely knowing how his presence is making you feel. “Just relax,” Daemons rasps, hand clasping around the base of his cock as he drags it through your folds and aligns it with your entrance. “Can you do that for me, darling?”

Sheepishly biting your bottom lip, you nod. The friction causes you to arch your back slightly, pushing your hips toward him impatiently. It’s a difficult task to tear your eyes off of his hard cock, one that you do not manage.

You press your eyes shut to prepare you for the stinging pain as the tip barely prods against your entrance, but it’s his tsking that has you open them again. 

“Nah, eyes on me.”

And just like you’ve done the whole time, you follow his lead, keeping your eyes locked with his as he pushes just the tip inside – ignoring the desire to press them shut to cope with the intrusion. With the way your walls already suck just the tip of him inside, clenching tightly around it, it costs him much more restraint to not force himself into you with one thrust, split you open and pound you into oblivion than he likes to admit. 

Yet he’s kind enough to keep his word and his urges at bay, granting you a little time to adjust to his girth. The stretch is painful indeed, and every ridge and vein of him drags along your fluttering walls as you struggle to take him. He fills you up with a slow push and a strained groan slipping past his lips which drowns out your quiet whimpers.

It feels different than all the times you have used one of your toys on yourself, and your walls all but wail around him, clenching and squeezing around him in an attempt to try to accommodate him. 

“‘Tis too much… It–” you whimper, interrupted when he eventually bottoms out completely, and it feels as though he’s all the way up in your belly. Your hands fly to his shoulders for leverage as he forces you to take his lenght and accept his girth, nails already digging crescent shaped marks into his skin despite the layer of his shirt between you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he groans, and by the way his shoulders tense under your fingers, you know it isn’t easy for him to keep his hips still. 

He’s so deep, you feel the pressure inside of your belly, the tip bullying your sweet spot without him really moving. It feels like he’s splitting you in two, and you know you’ll be feeling him for days – but it’s an ache you welcome.

“You want me to continue? To fuck you?” he asks, a mischievous grin on his lips. 

Having lost your voice for the time your body needs to adjust to him, you all too eagerly nod your head, your eyes never once leaving his. He does not mind you not using your words, clearly sensing what’s going on inside of you at this moment. 

“Then beg me for it, sweetheart.”

Your mouth falls open at that, glossy eyes flickering between his to search them for the jest. “What?”

“You’ve heard that right. Beg for me to fuck you.”

It’s the single rut of his hips that almost pulls his cock out of you completely and sheathes it right back inside that has you whining and begging for him in seconds, the dire need to be claimed by him consuming your mind. 

“Gods, please… please,” you whine. “Please fuck me. I… I need it… need you.”

Just your whiney voice and the tight squeeze of your cunt around him almost have him coming on spot. How could he ever say no to you? Not when you beg so sweetly for him to fuck you, and look at him with these big, innocent eyes. 

“My my, aren’t you a good girl?” he purrs, the praise surging straight to your brain. 

Daemon wastes no more time, and plunges his cock into you, starting slow and careful. You can only assume that it’s the complete opposite of how he’s usually fucking, but you knows you’ll probably get there at some point. If not tonight, certainly sometime over the course of your stay, since you still have a few more months. Or perhaps he’ll even agree to extend your stay after this?

He leans down to prop himself up on one elbow, his broad chest flush against yours. Tonight isn’t about fucking, it’s about forming and bending you to his needs. You wouldn’t accept his advances again if your first time is painful. 

You can’t help yourself but to cry out in pleasure as he shoves his cock into you over and over, hitting all the right spots within you with little effort, your mind going hazy with pleasure. 

With each thrust you approach your orgasm faster and faster, the all familiar coil in your belly threatening to snap at any given moment, and his pelvis and the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rutting against your overstimulated clit with each steady grind don’t really help to delay it either. 

“Sir, please… I’m close,” you whimper, biting your bottom lip.

A satisfied smirk lingers on his lips as he looks at you, eyes dark blown with lust. “Then go on, sweet thing,” he rasps. “Go on and come for me.”

It’s like his words ignited something inside of you that causes you to topple over the edge almost in time with his command, the force of it reducing you to nothing more than a whimpering mess that seems to spur him on even more.

“There she is,” he groans, and cups your cheek with his free hand, squishing your face slightly as he presses it against his chest, clearly using you like a ragdoll while you drown in the comforting scent of his perfume mixed with sweat. But he doesn’t stop his movements, if anything he increases the pace of his hips. Not too much, but just enough for you to notice, and have that uncomfortable feeling of being overstimulated creeping up on you. 

Daemon gets back on his knees and clasps both his hands around your thighs. 

“No…, I can’t,” you whimper, pleading eyes searching his dark ones for mercy, but it doesn’t come. Instead, all you’re receiving is a grunted ‘you can’ as he drapes your legs over his shoulders. The change in angle has another orgasm washing over you almost immediately, your back arching off the mattress. 

A groan escapes his parted lips as your convulsing walls milk him yet again. “Yes, fuck, just… just like that. Such a good girl for me,” he stutters, though it’s obvious he’s talking more to himself than to you. 

His weight disappears from your body not long after the aftershocks rocked you, kneeling upright to pound into you. By now it is more than obvious that he has abandoned his decency and the wish to give you a pleasant first time, his hips working tirelessly to milk every last drop of pleasure out of your body. He fucks you fast and hard, and all you can do is whimper and moan thank you’s and yesses over and over again while he uses your body to get himself off. 

Soon Daemon’s rhythm falters, but he still manages to pull out of you and jerk himself off, tip of his cock pointing towards your stomach as he comes with a loud groan. His throbbing cock spills his seed onto your flushed skin and the top you wear, essentially marking you as his and staking his claim to you.  

While you’re completely blissed out by experiencing two orgasms in such a short time, you can’t stop watching how he comes undone in front of you, coating you in his spend.  

As soon as he’s done, Daemon gets on his feet and puts his briefs and sweats back on, tucking himself back into them. He stands and takes a few seconds to examine his work, especially the blissed out expression on your face and the way his seed covers your torso from your navel all the way up to your breasts. 

He smiles at you, running a hand through his disheveled hair, before he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it into your direction. “There you go. Told you I’d make it fit.” 

He exits your room so fast and leaves the cleaning up to you, you don’t even get the chance to admire his bare chest or him in general. 

But you have no time to think about what has happened as the quiet pings! of your chat make you remember your still running stream. Barely able to pull his shirt over your head before you scurry off the bed, tumbling towards the laptop with trembling legs and a very prominent aching between your legs.

Squinting at the screen, you notice that the number of viewers is as high as never before, just like the amount of tokens they’ve sent you. Your lips curve into a wide grin, and you shut the laptop and fall into your chair, hoping it’s not the first and last time you experience such bliss by the hands of your host.  

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Foresight (Daemon Targaryen x Reader) 

Summary: The only time modern reader actually uses her intuition and hits the nail right on the head. 

Warnings: I barely know by now. Smut. Fingering.  Oral sex (F receiving) Non-con/ Dub con. I mean, reader consents, but you have read this series. Pregnancy. 

A/N: And… It’s a wrap, folks! My first series. Think of this as the epilogue. As always, you can shout at me in my asks. 

Previous parts here.

There is a certain irony in this, you think. You were once someone of no importance in a world filled with millions of people. Then, you were a servant in the Middle Ages. Now, you are a Lady of a noble house, married to a Prince. 

Yet, it’s the first time you are held in such a way. A slightly longer chain than the one for your wrists connects your ankles together. Despite being in one of the highest positions a woman could be in these times, you have never had less freedom.  

Now it’s a new girl, delivering your food. No matter how hard you try, she never answers your questions about Mina or what is happening outside your rooms. You discover it is because she doesn’t have a tongue. And she is terrified of even looking at you, too. You wonder what Daemon has done to her. 

Was she born like that? Did another Lord punish her? Or worse. Did Daemon take her tongue? Trying to guess what happened to her is good entertainment. Unfortunately, you soon realize it frightens her too much when you speak to her. You wouldn’t want to cause her a heart attack, and so, you have to quit it. 

You feel like an asshole. But you are desperate for company, to get someone to speak to you. The hopelessness you first felt has started to feel much like realization. You are not leaving. You are stuck with Daemon. 

To keep your mind occupied, you try to remember as many details of the time you are living in. You start with the cutting of tongues as your inspiration. Someone did something similar in the show. You didn’t pay as much attention to the story as you would have if you had known it was going to become your life.  

But someone had. Surely. What was it, with Westeros, and the forceful taking of the organs? They cut hands, tongues, fingers, eyes. God. 

If you remembered something else, it could be useful. Unfortunately for you, you had been too fixated on how hot some people looked to follow subplots. The exercise is useless, but you start writing what you can remember on parchments and hiding them from your captor. 

You feel like you are going insane. The only thing you do is pace and read, pace and read, all day. Something is wrong with you. You feel strange, like you are wearing clothes a size too small. Uncomfortable. Cranky. Sensitive. Lonely. 

You read once, that human beings have more needs than just eat, sleep and shelter. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. People need to own things, they need friends and intimacy, they need purpose. Otherwise, bad things happen. 

Oh, but what? Could all your symptoms be explained by it? If you had a phone, you could look it up. Hell, even if it was the sixties, you could search it in a book. Not in the Middle Ages. Or well, Westeros. 

You long for Daemon’s company. He comes every afternoon and sits near the fireplace. You talk to him because there is nothing else to do. From time to time, you repeat that you are not a dreamer. He laughs. 

“You wouldn’t be this perfect for me if you weren’t.”

He is very cultured, and interesting. It's something you are desperately attracted to. It’s not only that you are now in what it’s effectively solitary confinement, no. Deeper than that. Just like Rhea, Daemon is one of the few people in the Runestone that can read. His mind is more open, he is less superstitious. Talking to him makes you less lonely. 

There is no way you can rationalize it, though. What you are doing is wrong. It’s a betrayal to Rhea, to someone you loved more than you could ever love him. But you are weak, too broken down by grief and fear to oppose him.  

You need someone to tell you everything will be alright. And Daemon makes sure he is available for the job. He fights off your loneliness when you ask him to. 

Sometimes, Daemon sits next to you on the bed and talks about Valyrian history or traditions. His tone is soft, and calming. His face lights up when you show an interest in the topic or ask questions that prove you are following his monologue. It’s like seeing an entirely different man. 

Before, you would have resented being babied in the way you are. Daemon treats you as if you were a little girl, one he entertains with tales and praises when she is good. Now, you crave the comfort of it. 

You still bathe together. Daemon never touches you, though. Not after the night you tried to escape. Sometimes, he just looks at you. You sit there, basking on the freedom of being able to move without the cuffs. You are no longer embarrassed of your nakedness. 

The chains frightened you, at first. You are not stupid. You are married to him, in chains and in a room bare except for the bed. What else would you think, if not rape? But Daemon was smarter than that. Insidious. Slowly, he had been coaxing you to let him touch you. At first, you squirmed like your pants were on fire when his hands were on your skin. Then, you had slowly come to accept it as part of your routine. And lately, to crave it. 

He had been conditioning into it, you are sure. First, the offers to tend to your wounds, then, massages to your sore ankles and wrists. It was a merely chemical thing, you tried reassuring yourself. Your brain had come to associate endorphins with his touch, and so, like an addict, you sought more. 

But you knew, it was no long now before you weren’t able to resist him. It was not a thing of physical strength. He wasn’t going to grab you and force you down. No. It was more complex than that. 

Daemon had acquired himself a dreamer, according to him. He was not keen on alienating you, but seducing you. He intended for you to be the one to come to him. Worst thing? You were so touch starved, and so lonely, it was working. Stockholm syndrome, surely. 

The next chain would be a child. It was the obvious thing to do, to keep control over the Vale and you. You would never leave if you were pregnant. What would you do, in your world, with a child that could potentially tame dragons and whose legal existence you couldn’t prove? It would surely be too late for abortion, and most probably, time would have passed. How to explain your disappearance? 

And of course, there is the fact that your body is rioting against your brain. No matter the phase of your cycle, you are perpetually horny. The smallest of touches or looks make your mind spiral, you daydream about sex and feel the urge to jump Daemon’s bones almost daily. 

Maybe there is some truth to whatever they are serving you. The milk and wine are always laced with spices, to make you more agreeable to his advances. At first, you thought it was silly, but by your current state, they seem to be working. You are desperate to be able to masturbate. But bound hands are not particularly useful. Besides, you have an inkling that’s not really what you want. 

Every night before bed, Daemon takes the cuffs off and lets you walk around your room. You make small laps around the room, sometimes he tries teaching you the dances people do at feasts. Then, he gets you ready for bed. 

Daemon rubs salve into your wrists and ankles. You don't ask him, but you know it has to have some aphrodisiacs on it. When his hands touch your skin, it feels electric. You knew aphrodisiacs existed in your world, even if they were fickle and old wives tales. But in a world where there is magic and dragons? Why not? 

Even if not, the whole thing is an assault on your senses. The room filled with incense and candles, the baths, the soft silky clothes. The silence. Usually, when people are not busy enough, they get horny, right?

Perhaps it's the mirror. There is one placed in your room for baths, once you are not on suicide watch. You see yourself for the first time in months, and nearly don’t recognize your reflection. Your hair is longer, falling messily down your back. The sheer shifts you wear, specially tailored for you, make you look put together and sensual.

Collarbones exposed, accentuated hips, bare arms. Botticelli’s Venus comes to life. The image arouses you. You feel naughty in all the right ways, sexy, desirable. 

Each night, Daemon’s hands rub the salve slightly higher. You find yourself yearning for his touch, anticipating the moments you will get with him. He massages your calves. Your forearms. He kisses your shoulders. You mewl, desperate. But Daemon doesn't do anything. 

You share secrets like they are oozing out of your pores. Aemond's birth. Criston Cole and Rhaenyra fucked. Lucerys. Joffrey. Harwin Strong. Alicent and the rat looking man. Daemon dutifully repeats them to Viserys. 

Were you meant to feel this way? You had never expected it, not in a million years. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff. Any second now, and you could plummet down. But what a fall it would be. 

Tonight, he is on his knees. Despite being in a dominant position, sitting on the edge of the bed, you don't feel powerful. Daemon has a way of entering a room and just making anyone else fade into the background. He overpowers anyone easily, by sheer presence alone. 

Daemon grabs your ankle and gently rubs at it, spreading the salve. He has said he doesn't want you to scar, or hurt. But your newest cuffs have padded interiors, making this whole act pointless. Neither of you voices it. 

You shiver. His hands massage your calves. 

“Daemon.” The first mistake. You have never, not once, called out his name before. It comes out soft and whiny, in a sweet whisper. 

“Should I stop, dreamer?” He gives you a coy look, as his fingers go higher and higher. Ankle, calf, back of the knee. His hands are warm against your skin. Daemon seems to have a fascination with touching you. He cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter how hard he tries. 

You say nothing. Daemon kisses your ankle, then your leg. He mouths along your knee. You feel so aroused, you think you are about to pass out. You shouldn’t give in, you know, you know. But it’s the sweetest torture. 

He stops right above your knee, looking at you with mischievous eyes. You pant, looking at him like you are about to murder him if he dares deny you now. 

“My poor little dreamer, have I neglected you so?” Daemon smirks, and parts your legs, making room for himself. “Don’t worry, we will fix this right away.” 

“Stop it.” You mutter, but before you can start explaining to him why this is a bad idea, you feel a sharp sting on your thigh. You moan, feeling utterly confused. In your aroused state, the sting of the bite feels almost pleasant. 

“It doesn’t sound like you want me to stop.” Daemon soothes the hurt with his tongue. He looks hungry, pupils blown and hair mussed just so. “Besides, I have been very patient with you, have I not?” His fingers dig in more harshly. He is right, of course. He could have fucked you already if he wanted to. It's not like anyone would come to your defense. 

“You have.” You agree, shakily. His tongue draws little ribbons over your inner thigh. You cannot stop moaning, for some reason. And you are no stranger to sex, not as Daemon thinks. You were not a virgin when you got here. Despite knowing this screams of consent issues and that he is trying to manipulate you, you cannot help it. 

You wonder how Rhaenyra and Laena ever stood a chance, being mere girls when they met him. If everyone told you this was wrong, but the first time he touched you felt this pleasurable, would you believe it? 

No. You are more than enough proof of it. 

“I will make it good for you, little one.” He kisses higher, this time. Along the juncture where your leg meets your hip. “It's a kindness most wives don't get.” 

“I know, but…” You stop talking and melt into a sight when he rubs a finger over your labia, spreading the wetness there. You know if you keep talking, he will be able to hear exactly how much his touch is affecting you. 

“I just want to look at you. And kiss you a little.” Daemon says, and his tone leaves no room for argument. His hands rub soothingly along the outside of your thigh. “I won’t take your maidenhead… Yet.” 

Maidenhead. What’s that supposed to mean? You try to remember, certain that you have heard it before. Rhea mentioned it? Or was it the girls? Maidens. They called maidens women who were virgins. God. He thinks you are still a virgin. 

He won’t fuck you, tonight. You hope that his plans for just touching and kissing include an orgasm because you feel like you will go mad if you don’t come tonight. 

You could tell him the truth. But what would you gain? Daemon only believes what pleases him. You have told him time and time again that you are not a dreamer. You even tried telling him you were from the future. His words still ring in your ears. 

“A world where men and women are equal? And there are no Kings? Oh, my poor confused little thing. You have been reading too much again.” 

So telling him would be no use. He might believe it another attempt at getting him to let you go. Or he might actually believe you and try to eviscerate any previous lover of yours. Or gauge their eyes out. Perhaps cut a hand. That’s who Daemon is at his core. 

No, it’s better this way. Playing along will get him to be gentler, and he won’t even be able to tell the difference. 

“Won’t it hurt?” You ask, and it comes out just the right amount of shy to be believable. It’s easy, leaning on the lingering fear of the fact that this is Daemon you will be going to bed with. Your body reacts to him like it has never reacted to another lover before, yet you shouldn’t be doing this. He is skilled at it. Whoever he was fucking before, she has trained him well. 

But now that you have allowed yourself to think, your hesitance takes hold. This is wrong, in so many ways. You shouldn’t be doing this. Yet, you want him so much, you feel like you might burst into flames if you don’t get him right now. 

The lure of the forbidden, in all its glory. 

“Not tonight.” He kisses your inner thigh, open-mouthed. You tense in anticipation. Daemon can be giving when he wants to be. 

“I don’t want it to hurt.” You close your legs, trapping his hand between them. Your lower lip lightly sticks out, playing the part of the disgruntled little girl. 

 Daemon chuckles. One of his fingers rubs teasingly over your clit. Being a brat always seems to rile him up, and you feel smug at knowing him so well. 

Oh, god. What are you even doing? Are you seriously contemplating ways of manipulating him during sex? You shouldn't even be thinking of fucking him. It's disgusting. 

It’s not. Not when Daemon’s hands are on your thighs, not when his lips are on your skin. You are just too needy for it. Too many nights have passed since the last time you had been touched in such a way. 

His hands knead into your thighs. The touch is greedy, possessive. He makes a tsking sound, and rubs a tight little circle over your clit. 

“I’ll warm you up to it. Don’t worry.” 

“I don’t… We really shouldn’t…” You plead, weakly. You are trying hard not to succumb to the pleasure. 

“Why not?” He asks, pressing his finger over your hole and making you nearly sob in pure neediness. He is not entering, just threatening with it. Both holding you in place and feeling you flutter around him. 

Daemon waits for your response, but when you don’t answer as quickly as he hoped, he starts sucking a bruise on your inner thigh.

“Because it’s wrong! You killed Rhea. You have no morals. And… Besides, it’s not me. I don’t want it.” You try to scramble away, suddenly regaining your senses. It must be the oils. Or the food. Or whatever he puts into your wine. 

“Oh?” Daemon presses your hips down with an arm, and rubs around your clit again. He makes a show of taking his fingers away from you and admiring them in the light. Your arousal shines on them, sticky wet. “If you don’t want it, why are you dripping all over the bed? What is it, if not arousal?” 

“The oils! The incense!” You complain. His hand, soaked in your juices, comes to cup your face. 

“Oh, sweetling, no.” Daemon laughs. He presses his thumb on your lower lip. Despite your best judgment, you open up and taste yourself. “They are not meant to warm your blood. This is all you.” 

Your whole body feels hot with embarrassment. He has to be lying. It can't be. You can’t be this… This… No. No. He has to be lying. 

Daemon laughs even more at the face you make. He kisses your neck, then your collarbone. He pushes at the strands of your shift, kissing all over your breast. You feel too ashamed, still reeling at the realization that this is, in fact, all you, to push him off. You are the crazy woman who is begging to have sex with a killer. 

He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking slightly. You moan, arching your back to offer more skin to kiss. Daemon does so, greedily. 

He kisses your sternum, then your belly. He bites at the curve of your waist, making you squeal. His lips go lower, kissing over your womb. Then, your mound. And finally, your labia. 

Daemon pulls your lips apart and gently nips your clit, taking it between his teeth. Despite how gentle he is being, you jolt. It’s too much stimulation at once, and it’s bordering on the painful. Yet, he shows he can read your body well, because he quickly recovers and chooses to kiss your clitoral hood instead.

You moan again, all high-pitched. The vibrations of his laughter feel very pleasant against your sex. 

“That's it. Melt into it, little dreamer.” Daemon says, before going back to eating you out. This time, he sucks slightly harder. You tense in his arms. You can feel the pleasure rising and rising. Never has a partner driven you this fast towards an orgasm. 

It's too much and too little. 

“I… More, please.” You plead, petting his hair. 

He gets up, and kisses you, for the first time in months. You sigh into his mouth. It's then that he pushes his finger inside of you. Immediately, you tighten and tense around him, all sense of embarrassment gone. 

“This was just what you needed, wasn’t it?” Daemon whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe before speaking again. You buck your hips, trying to get him to move his finger. He complies, making a come and hither motion. His other hand rubs circles on your clit. “Yes, you needed someone to show you who you really were. My needy little dragon.” 

You try to swallow down your scream, muffling it with your hand. The praise, mixed in with the raspy, hungry tone it's delivered in, makes your head swim. 

“Come on, don’t fight it.” Daemon encourages, and bends down to take your nipple inside his mouth. It's enough to send you over the edge. This time, you actually scream, tensing under him. White, hot, blinding pleasure. And he strokes you through it, making everything more intense. 

As you pant there, coming down from your high, it occurs to you to return the favor.  It had been one of the best orgasms of your life, you wouldn't mind pleasing him in exchange. Your mouth watered at the thought of what else he could do. 

You place a shaky hand on his thigh, but Daemon pushes it away, gently. 

“You will learn to please me too, Wife. In time. But not tonight.” Daemon kisses your cheek, sweetly. 

“When?”

“We have the rest of our lives to figure it out.” It’s then when it sinks in. Daemon is never planning to let you go. You start to cry. What have you done? 

Daemon sighs. He starts rubbing soothing circles on your back, as if you were a child.  That night, he stays. You fall asleep in his arms, warm and relaxed. For the first time in weeks, you do not dream of Rhea. 

A few months go by. The season changes, from warm summer to harsh winter. And just as the season changes, so do you. 

You wake in your chambers, the bed next to you cold. Your ankles hurt. 

You put on a light dress, and go in search for your husband. As you pass the servants and guards, they give you respectful nods and greetings. 

Daemon sits on the Iron Throne. Viserys’s health has been worsening, lately. He looks up at you, taking his eyes from the parchment he is reading. His eyes greedily trace your figure. 

“I swear you get more beautiful every day.” He says, as you let your dress pool at your ankles. 

“Everyday I look rounder, more like it.” You complain. At the door, the guards discretely look away. If you want to parade around naked, so be it. It’s up to them to avert their eyes, if they don’t want to lose them, Daemon has instructed. 

No one dares oppose him. Not anymore, with you by his side. Viserys’s reign might just go down as one of the bloodiest in history, with how hard the two of them have been working to rid the realm of any future enemy of Rhaenyra. 

He laughs. 

“You do not. You look like my dreamer.” 

You roll your eyes at him, cradling your belly. His breathing hitches, minutely. There is arousal in his expression, once again. The more obvious your pregnancy becomes, the more he wants you. Daemon likes how your body has changed, how there are stretch marks on previously smooth skin, how your breasts are fuller. 

“My ankles hurt. Make it better?” 

What was life before him? You can barely remember how you functioned before, having to make all the decisions and thinking. Trusting him is easier. Daemon loves you. He wants the best for you. 

You don't hate him as much as you thought. You might even love him back. No. You love the pleasure he gives you, you are hooked to it. You need him like a heroin addict needs her next fix. 

Before, you used to be a good person. You cared about others. Now, you care about yourself, the baby and him. In that order. 

You had plans. You had a future, a career. Now, you live the day. If you think too hard about tomorrow, you feel like you can't breathe. So you don't. It's easier, this way. 

Daemon likes you more like this. Not a little girl anymore, but a woman. One he molded into his perfect partner.  Strong, but never stronger than him. Smart, but not enough to escape him. And a little broken. Still with a bit of fire, still a little rebellious. But never trying to get away. 

He says you are more of a goddess than a woman. Special. Holy.  Before, your courses aligned with the moon, your pregnancy timed just right. The baby should be here just when spring turns to summer. What could you be, if not a little goddess? 

The mysteries of womanhood fascinate him. It’s made even worse with your knowledge of the future.  He seems to think all you know about pregnancy is part of your powers as a dreamer. Once, you made the mistake of telling him the baby could hear him. Daemon has never skipped a day of talking to them since. 

You barely think of Rhea, these days. Daemon keeps you away from Runestone and occupied with other matters. Matters that are much more pleasurable to think about than your past. 

“Come, Lady Wife.” 

And you do. 

You wear other kinds of chains now. 

[asumofwords]

So I see you’re going to open up requests soon??? 👀

Lemme just put this one there to marinate because some of the asks have really put the thought in my head with no sign of it leaving me be.

Spooky season is coming!!!!

I rewatch the Haunting series on Netflix every October so I’m kinda feeling a Bly Manor type possession fic. SFA one shot or not, but Aemond’s dead and they were definitely in love. When reader moves on after his death and eventually meets someone she can fall in love with again, maybe she brings him home and Aemond possesses her new man just so he can fuck her again. Bonus points if she doesn’t know the first few times but keeps wondering how her new boo knows exactly what she likes before Aemond finally reveals himself and ultimately, she lets it continue because she gets her Aemond again.

Just some thots

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Death, murder, sadness, depression, thoughts of suicide, talks of blood and gore, moving on, haunted estate, possession, fear, anger, smut, chasing, blood, choking, slapping, fucking, creampie, degradation, rough sex, angry sex, dub-con, slight non-con, confusion, grief, Cregan being possessed by your late husband, spooky vibes.

Pairings: Ghost!Aemond x Reader / Aemond Targaryen Possession Fic, Cregan Stark x Reader, Possessed!Cregan x reader

Notes: Look.... I'm such a Cregan Stark slut, I'm gonna throw him in wherever I can... Hope you enjoy!!!! Hehehe, I hope I have done your request some justice!!! I really enjoyed writing this <3

Aemond Targaryen was a man that could not be summarised by mere words. You didn’t believe that you could ever find enough of them to describe him, if any could come close to it. He was kind, quiet at times, calculating, but passionate. And that was why you had married him. His passion for you was so strong it almost burnt, the flames of it constantly flickering over you like fire. 

You had been married for some time, meeting at University, Advanced History and the Politics of Old, and instantly falling for the quiet man who had sat up the back, hand constantly writing notes on paper. He had this charm that surrounded him, and the day you had gotten the courage to ask him out, pacing in front of your mirror all morning, practising the words over and over in your head and aloud, he beat you to it, seemingly having done the same thing. 

You were married a year later, a quick turn around, but happy with bliss and the love that you had for each other. Years flew by together and eventually you began to plan for a child, and Aemond in his excitement, invited his family over to announce this to them. His mother, unbeknownst to him, invited his half-sister Rhaenyra, her children, and her husband, Daemon; A man Aemond had once admired, but now despised. 

And because of this, tragedy struck.

At first the evening went well, but with the presence of his nephew, Lucerys, the boy who had taken his eye in an accident at a young age, Aemond’s anger simmered that night between him and his uncle, Daemon, and with the alcohol that flowed heavily from the table during your celebrations, a fight broke loose. 

You could still see it. Still see it move behind your eyelids like a film, slow motion, then quick, then slow again.

Aemond’s fist flying into Daemon’s cheek, a man much taller and broader than your husband. You had shot up from your chair to reach them, but Alicent had held you back whilst Rhaenyra tried to pull her husband away from her half-brother, who Daemon knelt over, fist after fist striking the younger mans face. You had screamed when Daemon was finally pulled up and away by his angry wife, concern thrown down to her estranged sibling, her violet eyes roaming him for injury. 

But your Aemond, your sweet, sweet Aemond, head strong and stubborn as he was, didn’t know when to stop, and so, jumping up from the ground, face bloodied and lips bleeding, Aemond’s hand had snatched a steak knife from the table, charging for Daemon, who pushed Rhaenyra out of the way. 

The next thing you knew, Aemond lay lifeless on the floor, knife in his unseeing eye, blood pooling on the floor around him. You had screamed and ran to him, sobbing over his corpse as Daemon stood in shock, looking at his now bloodied hand whilst Alicent blinked down at her son.

Daemon went to jail, a short term for murdering your husband, self defence they had said, since Aemond made the first move and grabbed the knife. And whilst Daemon sat in a cell, visited by his children and wife, you were left alone in the large estate that you had together, bereft with grief and uncertain if life would ever move on without him. 

You had thought about it, once or twice, grabbing a razor or taking one too many of the pills the doctors had prescribed for your debilitating depression, or perhaps reaching beneath the sink to grasp at Aemond’s old pain medication and taking the entire lot. But each time you thought of it, you just couldn’t do it. Too cowardly to go forward with it, which almost always ended with you on the floor where he had died, sobbing into the flagstones. 

It had been five years when you met him, five years when you decided to get back out into the world. Or not really decided, more like forced to by Helaena, Aemond’s older sister, who had been your life boat through grieving the loss of her brother. She had told you that Jacaerys, her nephew she had no qualms with despite the family tension, had a friend that you would get along with. Someone kind and gentle, and so far away from being anything like Aemond, that it was a safe bet.

And so one night of a blind date with Cregan Stark, Helaena and her girlfriend Cassandra joining as a buffer, turned into two, which then turned to three, then four, until soon enough, you were falling for the man. 

He was courteous. Tall and broad, with long, dark hair and a short beard, or more like stubble that had been left untouched for days on end. He had kind grey eyes, that looked like a winters storm that swirled each time he gazed at you. 

And he was different. That’s what you likened as to why you liked him. 

He was the complete opposite of Aemond. 

Where Aemond was fiery and warm, Cregan was cool and patient, always waiting for you to make the first step. Whenever you would fight, if at all you would manage to get him to react, it would always end with him apologising to you. 

Even when you were in the wrong. 

That was one thing you hated about it. 

He would never rise to your goading, never rise to the bait you would set for him to flare his temper. Sure, he would get angry, his wild grey eyes alight with something, but it would pass as soon as a storm, and he would leave to walk it out, or ask for space. 

You missed how it had been with Aemond. How you could goad him into anger, to have him fold you over any surface and have his way with you, rutting into you violently and cruelly, as he ripped peak, after peak from you, until you begged for mercy, tears falling down your cheeks. 

But Cregan was different, softer, sweeter, and not at all like your hot headed late husband. 

And this, you were thankful for. 

In some ways at least. 

It had been over a year of dating when you finally asked him to move into the estate with you. He lived awhile away, and you were alone in a house that had close to a hundred rooms and only memories to haunt you. It only felt right to fill it up with one more person. 

The estate was old, and although Aemond had died within its walls, you just couldn’t leave it. 

You were stuck. 

Feeling drawn to its stones and halls, and even the mere thought of parting with it made you breathless. 

Though, there was something about the old estate that made your skin crawl. 

It had always made you uncomfortable, and it was something that you had voiced to Aemond upon many a times, and he would always assure you, that they could not touch you, whoever they were.

But something was different.

Something had changed in the years past since Aemond had died.

Helaena had once come to the estate, months after the fact, and gone pale, looked right past you as though she was looking at someone there. But when you had turned, there was no-one. Not a soul, or wisp, or a particle. Just air.

But it was cold. And Helaena had told you, whilst staring behind, that Aemond would always be with you.

But you knew he would. You had his memories, his photos, his clothes that you had folded in trunks in the attic, or the blanket that still smelt very much like him that you would curl into on lonely nights and breathe in his scent. 

Of course he would always be with you. 

He was your first love.

But there was something about the estate.

You just didn’t know what.

It didn’t help that no matter what you did, you felt like you were being watched. But the building was as old as the hills, and your therapist had told you it was likely just your hyper observance and PTSD to blame. 

There were no ghosts in the house, no ghouls or monsters. It was just you. 

You and the empty walls, and halls that used to house his voice, and his smile, and his laughter. 

You were lonely, that much was sure, and although you loved Cregan, you truly did, it would just never match the love you and Aemond had. Not that you were comparing the two to each other in that way. Aemond was fire, Cregan was ice. They were both two very different people who loved in two very different ways. And you knew, much to your grief, that it was time to move on. 

Time to move forward with your life. 

And so you did. With Cregan. And that feeling of being watched only amplified. The feeling of heat on the back of you neck, being watched wherever you went, multiplying by tenfold with Cregan’s now permanent presence. 

The rooms would suddenly get cold, to the point that he had even noted it, but had explained it away; His home back in Winterfell was older than this estate, and it too had cold spots in it. 

It didn’t mean anything, it was just the old buildings, with old drafts, and terrible old insulation. 

But something felt off since he moved in. 

You always felt like you were being watched but it had changed to something more angry. Like something was always in the corner of your eye when with him, especially when intimate. But Cregan, with this kind eyes and unbendable patience, listened to your worries, and ensured you that it was fine, and even if there was an entity in the estate, it could not touch you, nor harm you, and probably didn’t even know you were there, lost in a world of its own. 

Yet, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of it. Maybe it was because you were moving on, and feeling guilty about doing so. 

You didn’t move into your old room that had been yours and Aemond’s. That was off limits. Closed for good, unless you wished to go in there and sit for a while. It had been over six years, six long years without him, but maybe, just maybe, Aemond would want you to move on. 

Yes, you were sure of it. 

He would want you to be happy, to move on. Not forget about him, but to continue on with your life without him, despite the feeling that your life had stopped with him the day he was killed. 

You still had night terrors about it, picturing his body on the floor, lifeless and cold, blood pooled beneath his head, seeing eye staring up unfocused. 

The terrors had gotten worse when Cregan had moved in. You would wake with a scream, and the vision and smell of blood before you, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the feeling as though something, or someone, had be pushing down on your chest. And each time, Cregan would be there for you, to ground you, to bring you back to the present and hold you as you sobbed in his arms, and eventually went back to sleep, skin tingling with the feeling of an extra eye on you.

But Cregan made you feel safe.

There were many things about Cregan that you adored. His loyalty to his friends and family, his smile when excited or pleased, the way he would hold you tightly against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin as you inhaled deeply. 

And to top it all off, he was an amazing lover.

Sleeping with Cregan was different to what it had been like with Aemond. He was gentler, softer, less rough and violent. Which was something you actually missed. When once you had asked Cregan to wrap his large hands around your throat, he had blushed and looked away, saying he needed time to work his way up to that. And so you dropped it, and respected that boundary. 

It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was. Cregan knew how to bring you to your peak with practised skill. It was just that it wasn’t what you needed. You needed a release. A cathartic bloom of pleasurable pain, submission and dominance, to not be in control, to let someone take the reins and bring you to a warm and fuzzy place that Aemond called ‘Sub Space’. You needed to feel the ache of being roughly handled, to see the bruises of Cregan’s love on your skin the next day or week after, but he was almost afraid of hurting you.

Gods bless that sweet man.

-

Footsteps clumped from down the hall as the tv softly played the previews of a new show on Netflix. You leant back against the couch, tucked under a thick blanket as you watched Cregan enter the lounge room with two bowls in hand. 

“What are we watching?” His deep voice curled around the room, eyes darting to the tv as you scrolled down, trying to find something the two of you could watch.

“I don’t know.” You flicked to the Recommended For You section, the couch dipping beside you as he sat, placing the steaming bowls of pasta in front of you, “Thanks.” You pecked his cheek lightly, before looking back at the screen.

“What are our options?” His fork clinked on the edge of his bowl as he twirled the long pasta up his fork, shoving it into his mouth beside you.

“Pride and Prejudice-“

“-2005 or BBC?” Cregan interrupted.

“2005 obviously.” You smirked, turning back to the tv, “Jurassic Park, Knives Out,” You flicked through the recommendation list, hearing a snicker beside you as you moved past 365 Days, “Gone Girl-“

“Gone Girl? What’s that?” Cregan asked between chews, large hand reaching to place your own bowl into your lap.

You grinned, “Only one of the best movies ever. Have you really not seen it?” You turned to face him, watching as he shook his head. “Gone Girl it is.”

The movie began to play as you settled in at his side, eating the dinner he had made you both. Cregan was engrossed in the film, and made you laugh as he screamed profanity at the tv, already hating Ben Affleck's character thinking he had killed his wife.

Towards the end of the movie however, Cregan was cheering Amy on, getting excited as it went through her step by step revenge plan. You were almost at the crescendo of the film when you felt Cregan shift beside you, his audible stream of consciousness suddenly stopped. 

You turned your head to look at him.

The large man was sitting stiff as a board beside you, grey eyes narrowed onto your face. It was as if all emotions had slid away, leaving a cool exterior. You frowned, turning your body to face him completely, watching as his eyes slid carefully over your body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, wondering what had changed his mood so suddenly.

Cregan’s eyes blinked slowly, lids half hooded as he peered at you.

There was something about it that was familiar.

Something about it that sent a shiver down your spine. 

And as if it didn’t happen, Cregan blinked again, shaking his head slightly, large hand coming to press at an eye as though in pain.

Your hand reached out to rest on his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” Concern written on your features.

Brows furrowed, he winced, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, “Sorry.” He apologised through gritted teeth, “Migraine came out of nowhere.”

Sympathy rolled through you. Standing from the couch you clicked your tongue, “That’s no good. Let me get you some pain killers.” 

Your bare feet pressed into the cold flagstones as you headed to the large kitchen, bending at the waist to rifle in the small medicine box under the sink. 

The box was old, something left over from Aemond, with the painkillers still inside that he used for whenever his eye and scar was giving him bother. You spotted the small silver packet of pain killers beside Aemond’s old ones, out of date and not useful to anyone, and yet you still could never bring yourself to get rid of them, as though your brain worried that they would be needed out of habit despite him no longer being there anymore. 

Bypassing your late husbands medication, you pulled at the small packet of regular painkillers and made your way back to the lounge room, worrying over Cregan’s sudden pain. 

He never usually had migraines or headaches, but it had become something more frequent since he moved in. His doctor had said it could be allergies, or perhaps even the presence of black mould in the old estate, but you had hired mould cleaners, and even mould detecters who brought in an old dog to sniff about the property, and they, not once, found any sign of damp or growing fungus. 

Entering the lounge you spotted Cregan, sitting stiff backed on the couch, head immediately flicking to you.

“I got you some pain killers,” You walked towards him, popping two little pills out of the foil packet, “Is it bad?”

Cregan’s lips twitched slightly as he watched you, eyes narrowed, and yet he did not answer. 

Must be bad if he’s not talking. 

“Here.” You held your hand out, waiting to place the two painkillers into his palm. 

Cregan Stark watched you with hawklike eyes, not taking the pills from you. Suddenly he stood, large frame towering over you as he looked down his nose at you, face devoid of any emotion, and a certain strike of familiarity sparked inside your mind.

Why does this feel familiar?

A large hand struck out, grabbing you neck roughly, squeak falling from your lips as you were tugged towards Cregan, his lips finding yours in a rough and bruising kiss, his straight teeth nipping at your bottom lip roughly, tingles climbing up your spine. He kissed you until you were out of breath, hand not releasing itself from your neck, keeping you firmly to him until you parted bare centimetres away to catch your breath, lips brushing against each other as you heaved. 

“What's gotten into you?” You breathed heavily, want coursing through you.

The pink of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, though moving slower as though he was savouring the taste of you on him, “I’ve missed this.” Came a deep purr from within his chest.

A smirk pulled at your mouth, “You had me last night.” You teased, nibbling at your bottom lip, wondering where this sudden burst of lust had come from.

Cregan merely grunted as he crashes his lips back against yours, fingers tightening around your throat in a way that you had begged him to do for months, cutting the supply of blood flow making your head spin. You mewled as he broke the kiss, spinning you around to push you over the edge of the couch arm. 

Air was ripped from your lungs as he pushed his weight onto your lower back with his hand, fingers ripping at your clothes to reveal your slick folds to the room. 

There was no preparation, no warning, just the sudden and sharp bite of his length pushing into your walls. You cried out, hands grasping at the pillows as he set a rough pace, his length dragging in and out of you sharply as he grunted from behind. 

Cregan’s weight pushed into your spine as he continues to rut into you wildly, feet dangling uselessly as he fucking you over the arm of the couch, hands gripping the pillows tightly in your hands. It was the first time he had ever fucked you with such vigour, without care, and it set your nerves alight. 

You whined beneath him, feeling closer and closer to your peak, slick coating your thighs and his length, the wet sound of flesh against flesh behind you. 

“Always such a good little slut for me.” Cregan growled, and the sound sent tremors through you.

Your brows furrowed, a nagging sensation in the back of your mind telling you that something was not quite right. That Cregan would never call you that, had never called you that, and that it was something that Ae-

Blinding white pleasure burst through you as you came, Cregan moaning behind you as he felt your walls tighten around his length. You whined beneath him, body going slack as he sought out his own peak, rutting into you frantically until he came with a grunt, warmth filling your walls.

You slumped against the couch, mind hazy as your climax scrambled all thoughts. A kiss was pressed against your shoulder blade and a small hiss came from behind as your boyfriend pulled out of your core. Too tired to move, and the man clearly sensing that, you were scooped up into two large arms and carried off to your bedroom. 

The rest of the evening a blur of being cleaned, given water to drink, and then the soft sheets and warmth of a body pressed up against you in bed, large hand stroking over your hair lovingly as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, it was to a grunt of pain and not pleasure. Cregan was laid on his back, hand once again pressed into his eye as his brows furrowed, desperate to alleviate the pain that settled behind it. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, turning to face him, watching as he tried to compose himself, a soft wince pulling at his features. 

“Migraine again.” Cregan whispered into the early morning air. 

Your hand out of habit, moved to soothe the hair at the top of his head on the side of the eye pain, in a way that was purely instinctual, in a way that you had for many years with Aemond whenever he would wake in pain, or lay in silence, biting roughly at his own lips to try and get through it alone.

Pressing a kiss to the side of Cregan’s face you crawled out of bed, “You didn’t take the painkillers last night that’s why. I’ll go get you some more.”

You had brought him the painkillers and forced him to take them with a whole glass of water, before settling back into the covers with him, soothing his long brown hair away from his face as the pain slowly dissipated away from his features. 

-

The next week, it happened again. 

The headache. 

The cool half lidded gaze.

The sudden change in demeanour.

The things that he did and said reminded you so much of Aemond, that you felt immediate guilt for thinking of your late husband whilst in the throws of a rough fuck with your new boyfriend. But this time you took the reins, and told him to slow down, told him that you wanted it softer, more loving, more him. 

“Sl-slow down.” You pleaded from below, thighs pressed against your chest as Cregan pushed his whole length inside of you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix.

His eyes narrowed on you as he grunted, fucking into you harder instead, “No.” He growled, and a small spark of fear sparked up your spine. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you pushed at his chest, “S-stop. Cregan, stop.” Your nails dug into his chest as you tried to push him off of you, yet his pace didn’t falter. 

Your brain in its confusion pushed out a word you hadn’t used in years, a word that was reserved for you and Aemond only, a word that was to be used if you wanted all things to end. 

“Perzys.”

Fire.

Cregan immediately stopped, eyes blinking suddenly as he looked down at you in a moment of confusion, and then concern. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him, your own confusion and sorrow swirling inside of you. 

How did he-

“What’s wrong?” 

A tear slid down your cheek as you felt him looking over you, blinking again as though trying to rise from a fog, and yet he had stopped. He stopped with a word that he shouldn’t have even known. 

Or maybe you had told him. Maybe you had, a long time ago? Maybe he was confused by your sudden use of the foreign word? Maybe-

“You’re scaring me.” Your words came out breathlessly, all desire having leaked from your body and replaced with a myriad of others. 

Guilt.

Fear.

Confusion.

Grief.

It was too real.

It was too familiar.

It was-

“I thought this was what you wanted, ñuha-“ Cregan’s hand flew to his eye, pressing into it roughly as he gasped out in pain. 

You scrambled to sit up, pulling his length from inside of you as you held onto his face, soothing his hair away, fear replaced with worry. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked in concern, watching as Cregan’s teeth ground down on each other, low grunt of agony passing through his clenched teeth.

“Let me see.” You begged, mind going into autopilot as you gently grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his eye as he blinked down at you in surprise for a moment, a multitude of emotions flashing across his face before his hand rose, and then his face crumpled once again, and the heel of his hand pushed back into his eye. 

You sprung into action, body already taking you immediately to get painkillers for him, hand reaching for the little yellow pill container before having to grab the others. 

Eventually you got him to settle into bed, begging him to see a doctor, before the two of you finally agreed to see one later that week. 

And what an uneventful doctors visit that was. 

Two MRI’s, CT scans, and blood tests later, the doctor gave him the all clear. No growths to be seen, or unusual brain activity, not even a simple vitamin deficiency; Cregan was the pinnacle of health. The Stark came out of the doctors office with reassurance that there was no malignant growth or anything to be worried about, but a warning that perhaps stress was the causation for his sudden pains. He was given instructions to rest, and so Cregan took sick leave for the rest of the month. 

-

Two weeks into Cregan’s rest, and the both of you were pleased to find that Cregan didn’t have another migraine attack. Nor did his demeanour suddenly change like the last time, much to your relief. 

Winter had begun to roll into the realm, and the estate, being as old as it was, became far colder at times, inside than out. The fires were constantly lit to keep you both warm, and it made for a rather romantic setting for the two of you. 

That morning you had gone out to get a nice bottle of wine to bring home. You were going to surprise Cregan with a home cooked meal, a nice bottle of red, and then after, if you were both feeling inclined, which you knew you would be, a slow and gentle fuck in front of the fireplace.

You had gone out of your way to avoid him that day, going to the shops to buy ingredients, prepping the dinner as quietly and quickly as you could, lighting candles in the casual lounge room for the two of you, and placing some fluffed pillows before the hearth to lounge in.

It was perfect. 

Your dinner was cooked, and you were ready for the evening and with good timing. You heard Cregan walking through the hall as you put his bowl next to yours on the coffee table, placing the nice bottle of wine in the centre as you brushed down the sides of your dress and made sure your hair was perfect. 

The dress you wore was tight and black, and although you had thought of wearing heels, there was no need to in your own home, so you went bare foot. Beneath your dress lay a lacy surprise. You waited to see Cregan enter the room, to see his smiling eyes and warm grin at you, but he kept on. Walking straight past the lounge, his footsteps disappearing down the vast hall. 

You stood in confusion for a moment.

Maybe he was going to the bathroom.

Maybe he didn’t know you were there or that you had cooked dinner. 

But he would have smelt it. 

And he would have known. 

You waited for a while longer, hoping he was making his way back, but when he didn’t, you began to grow impatient, leaving your steaming dinner behind to go in search for him. In that moment you cursed the vastness of the estate, but knew that Cregan wasn't really one to explore it. He kept to what he knew, and so you went to those spaces.

He wasn’t in your shared room.

Or the dining hall.

Or one of the many bathrooms. 

Nor was he in the kitchen.

The estate was cold, and dark, and the coolness of the home creeped up your bare feet and into your spine, sending shivers running down it. You called out his name, hoping he would come to you so that you would eat.

But no response came. 

It wasn’t until you were climbing the stairs back to your bedroom that you noticed a light on in a distant room. 

A room far down the end of the east wing. A room in which Cregan knew he wasn’t allowed inside. A room in which you had not been inside of for a long, long time. 

A pang of hurt and anger rose inside of you as you went towards it, feet slapping against the stones as you got closer and closer, unready and unwilling to be reasonable for such a boundary being crossed.

This was not what you had planned for the evening.

The hallway became shorter, as you got closer, and the air in the hall changed. It became colder. Sharper. More charged. And the anger that you had within you, slowly began to crackle as you came to a stop, spotting Cregan standing in Aemond’s study, his large back to you.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, hurt rising within as he stood in front of Aemond’s old desk. 

There was the smallest of whispers of something not being right that began to grow in the back of your mind. 

But Cregan did not answer you, nor did he turn to look at you when he would have no doubt heard you enter. 

The room opened a wound you thought had been closed.

And Cregan had done that.

You stepped towards him again, no answer still from his lips. 

You thought he was better than this.

You thought that he respected this boundary.

What did he want from coming into this room?

Why would he be in here?

You looked at his posture. 

Bone straight.

His large hands clenching and unclenching at his side as his head stayed straight on.

Something wasn’t right.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” You told him, voice wary as you stopped yourself mere feet away from him. 

Again, no answer.

Did something happen?

Was this a test?

“Cregan?”

And then you heard it.

A low chuckle.

A sound that in your years of dating Cregan, you had not heard once.

And in your years of his absence, you had missed.

It was a chuckle that sent ice running down your spine. 

And yet, your feet took you forward anyway.

“Cregan?” You asked again, wariness in your voice as you tried to peer around his side and look at his face.

Was this a dream?

A nightmare?

A hum. All that came from his chest, was a deep and oh too familiar hum.

“Hm.”

Your spine stiffened, and it felt as though the air in the room turned to ice, goosebumps rising on your skin. 

“This isn’t funny, Cregan. Get out.” One last attempt of courage, one last attempt of standing your ground, or at least your first attempt, which came and flew and crashed to the ground in flames. 

Cregan finally shifted, turning to face you, and although it was the face of your boyfriend, it was the mannerisms of your late husband which caused you to gasp out in fear. On Cregan’s soft lips, was the sharp pull of a smirk that Aemond almost always reserved for you.

“I’ve missed you zaldrītsos.” Little dragon.

Horror flooded you.

“Cregan.” You warned in clenched teeth, afraid that if they were open, they’d chatter, “This isn’t funny.” 

Growling, a tear fell down your cheek, your hands clenched into fists as you looked at him.

He had no right to be in this room.

He had no right to call you that name.

To act as he did.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Another smirk, and a step towards you, “Cregan is indisposed.”

Another tear fell down your cheek as you took a step backwards and away, watching as his eyes roamed down your body, “Cut it out, Creg. I’m serious.”

Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, clicking his tongue, “Oh, I'm deathly serious.” Came his purr-like response.

Your heart raced against your ribcage, blood rushing into your ears as you stared at him in shock and fear.

This-

It couldn’t-

It wasn’t-

“Aemond?” You breathed.

And it was the smile that did it for you. The smile you had prayed and hoped and dreamed to see every day for the years without it, yet now, seeing it up close on the face of your boyfriend scared the living wits from you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted lightly on his feet, not at all in the clunky manner that Cregan would have, but it in a smooth, calculated way that was every movement Aemond would make, “Have you missed me?”

You couldn’t move. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

You couldn’t speak, even if you dared to. 

It must be a dream. 

A cruel dream.

A nightmare in which you would wake from soon. 

But it felt too real.

It felt too sure. 

He was here. 

There, right in front of you. But it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t his body, his face, his voice.

But it was him.

He took another step towards you, and your stumbled backwards, mouth agape as you looked at him, the shadows of the dark lit room falling across his face. 

And then there it was. 

That Cheshire Cat smile.

“Run."

Your feet bound on the flagstones as you fled in terror, racing down the stairs to try and escape, to leave the estate, to get to your car and go, or your phone, or anywhere that wasn’t near him. To get away from him. It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It was.

It was him. 

Air struggled to get into your lungs as you ran as fast as you could, hands catching themselves on the stone walls, nails biting into them as you caught yourself taking sharp corners, the dark halls and stairways causing your heart to race faster, feeling as though they were closing in on you. 

You didn’t dare look back. 

You knew he was there. 

You knew he was chasing you. 

Something you had done together for fun, for pleasure, but now, you were struck with terror.

But there it was, sweet salvation. 

The floor crashed up towards you as you landed heavily on your knees, tripping on the last step, not wasting anytime to check for injury nor even feel the blood that dripped down your legs, knees skinned from landing on the ancient stone floors. 

But there it was. 

The main hall. 

And there at the end, your way out. 

Your escape. 

The front doors of the estate.

You raced for it, heart in your throat, air barely in your lungs as they screamed for a reprieve, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you got closer and closer, fear still crawling up your throat, threatening to break through as a scream. 

And scream you did as your body was hauled off of your feet and into the air by a pair of large arms, wrapped around your centre. You kicked and clawed as you tried to get away from him, mind racing a million miles an hour, unsure of what was happening, and if it was even possible, but desperate to get away.

Not a sound, nor a jeer, nor a tease came from the man behind you. Not even a word to reassure you that this was a game, that it was Cregan, that you were safe, that this was just a long planned part of a fantasy you had expressed you wanted and he had denied. 

There was no reassurance. 

There was no check in. 

Because it wasn’t Cregan. 

It was Aemond. 

And as he hauled you back down the hall and up the stairs, kicking and screaming, back to his study, tears falling from your cheeks, you knew that it was him. You knew that it had been the slightest glimmers of him in Cregan the past month. Those migraines were more, those changes were more, and you had ignored them. 

Your hips collided with the desk of Aemond's study as he threw you into it, hands desperate to catch your fall, spreading across the desk knocking over items that had not been touched nor moved for years.

“I’ve had to watch him fuck you, every night.” He growled from behind, as you tried to push yourself up, his body caging you into his desk. There was a flicker of familiarity of the times you had once found yourself in a similar predicament.

“I’ve had to hear your moans and whines, knowing they were for someone else.” He said angrily, pulling at your dress, ripping it upwards as you tried to pull it back down, hands clawing backwards at his arms.

“You’re insane!” You screamed at him, “Get off me, Cregan!”

Aemond chuckled from behind, “You know it’s me. You always did like it rough,” His hands smacked yours away from him, shoving your face down on the desk again, “And poor Cregan just couldn’t do that for you, could he?”

Tears fell onto the desk below you, brain short circuiting as you didn’t know what to do or how to react, “Cregan, this isn’t funny.” You tried one last time, hoping his name would reach him, to snap him out of whatever this was, “Please, stop.”

Two large hands wrapped themselves around your wrists, bringing them both into one as he squeezed, face coming to the side of yours as he growled deeply, “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

Aemond’s free hand ripped at your lace panties that you had worn for Cregan, tearing them to shreds from your body, the burn of the material hot against your skin. His hips pressed into you from behind roughly, and you stifled a confused and frightened sob.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy like I’ve wanted to for years.” He emphasised with a grind against your backside, “I’ve had to watch you cry over me, my sweet byka mēre.” Little one, You sobbed loudly at the name, “Ao sagon ñuhon. Iksan dōrī ivestragī jā.” You’re mine. I am never letting you go.

It was him.

It was truly him.

Cregan couldn’t speak Aemond’s native tongue. 

Cregan didn’t know the names your late husband had called you.

It was him. 

It was Aemond.

You sobbed beneath him, you didn’t know if it was in relief, in horror, or in fear. 

You were so confused. 

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You cried, trying to turn your head, but knowing that you would be met with a face that didn’t match.

Long fingers brushed through your folds, finding them slick already, “Shhh.” Aemond quietened you, “Let me take care of my ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

Aemond smeared your slick through your folds with the tip of his cock as he brushed against your bud and then pushed inside of you. A long groan fluttered through his chest, vibrating against your back.

He set a brutal pace immediately, the old, heavy, wooden desk jutting with each thrust, your hips no doubt bruised from the force. Tears still fell from your eyes as you cried out, feeling him pull you by your hair, causing your back to arch up against his front as he fucked into you harder, hot pants in your ear. 

Aemond fucked you in a way that only he knew how, pulling mewl after mewl from you with every stroke, large palm squeezing at your throat whilst the other moved to grasp at your hip, pulling you back onto his cock roughly, slick dripping down your thighs as the coil within you began to tighten.

“So fucking tight for me.” He grunted from behind, hand coming to your front to gather some slick from your folds as he parted them further, his cock plunging inside of you from between them, “So fucking wet. I have missed this little pussy.”

His fingers pressed against your bud, swirling in time with his thrusts, causing your pleasure to mount faster and faster, the tears having stopped falling from your eyes as you moaned loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder. 

Your release was bounding towards you rapidly, and Aemond felt it. 

“Squeezing me so good, you gonna cum for me already?”

You nodded, feeling a smirk beside your cheek as he pressed harder against your bud, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and warmth flooded over your body as your writhed in his grip, walls gripping his cock as you came hard. Aemond increased his pace, fucking into you harder as he squeezed your neck roughly, mind spinning and vision going black in the corners. 

You felt like you were floating. 

You hadn’t felt like this in years.

Aemond moaned from behind you as your walls clamped down on him, “Such a perfect little pussy.” He thrusted deeply into you, grinding the air out of your lungs as your mouth dropped open, “Made me for me. Only me.”

You body began to feel heavy as he continued to squeeze your throat, mind going fuzzy as you floated in bliss, his cock drilling into your walls, the sound of your slick release obscene in the room as he clapped his hips against yours. 

“You’re mine.” Came a growl that sounded just like Aemond’s voice and not Cregan’s, tip of his cock jutting into your cervix painfully, “Forever.”

You nodded weakly and whined, “Yours. Only yours.” 

Tears began to spring into your eyes again, knowing that this was Aemond. Knowing that this was him, but also knowing that you could never have him truly. Knowing he was gone, and never coming back, and although you had tried, although you did love Cregan, you would never truly move on from Aemond. 

You would always be his.

The grip around your neck pulled away and blood rushed to your head, strange euphoria taking over as you felt his pull out of you from behind. You stumbled forward slightly before he caught you, turning you around and lifting you onto the desk. And although you were staring at Cregan’s face, with his stormy grey eyes and his brown hair, you could tell just by the way his features contorted, by the way he moved or talked or fucked you, that it was Aemond. 

And at this, more tears came.

Aemond sucked his tongue at you, wiping away a tear roughly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and without waiting another second, slid back inside of your walls, a needy moan falling from your lips as you continued to cry.

Aemond began to rub at your clit again, sending blinding pleasure back up your spine. It was almost too much, too intense, added with everything else, your mind was running in circles.

You whimpered and tried to run away from his fingers, which only served to anger him. 

“Stop crying.” He ordered, hand slapping at your clit in warning causing you to yelp.

You hiccuped and sniffled, body jolting with every thrust as he pushed you backwards to lay down on the desk, hovering over you, one hand gripping your shoulder to pull you back down on him, the other pressed onto your swollen bud, “You like when I fuck this little pussy?” He grunted, and you closed your eyes, trying to imagine his face instead of seeing Cregan’s.

“You’ve been thinking of me, haven’t you?” He chastised you, tutting meanly as you nodded your head with a suppressed sob, “He could never fuck you the way I can.”

Pleasure mounting within you again, all you could do was nod and babble yes.

This seemed to both please and anger Aemond, his thrusts speeding up as your spine rubbed painfully into the hard wooden surface, “Cregan could never give you what you want. What you need. He’s useless.” A tear tracked down your cheek as you turned your head away, looking at the far wall as he ploughed into your cunt, “It’s only me. Only I can make you feel this good.”

You moaned beneath him as you felt your second peak rising just as rapidly as the first, his hand not once relenting. But your non-answer came at a cost. Pain bloomed in the side of your cheek as you squeaked, slap having caught your attention as Aemond pinched your jaw in his hand to look up into eyes that weren’t his.

“Say it.” He thrust into you sharply and as deep as he could go, sparks of pain rippling through your cervix in a haze of confusing pleasure.

“Only you,” You whined, “Always you, Aemond.”

“Good girl.”

Aemond’s pace increased, determined to bring you to your end as well as reach his, each thrust jolting the desk against the floor and punching the air from your lungs. You knew that by morning you’d be an aching and bruised mess, but that thought only brought you closer to your peak.

Loving kisses were dotted against your cheeks as Aemond soothed the tracks of tears away with his lips. Your hands reaching up to wrap themselves around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him in closer.

“Please.” You whimpered, but you didn’t know what for.

Aemond’s arms scooped under your back and pulled you closer to him, changing the angle so that his cock pressed deeper and at a higher angle, one that he knew you loved the most.

And it was all that you needed before you fell of the edge with him, head tossed back in ecstasy as you came for the second time, Aemond following you with a long moan, pressing as deep as he could inside of you. 

“I love you.” You whispered into his neck, feeling his cock pulse inside of you, cum filling up your walls.

Your hands soothed the hair at the front of his face in a way you knew he liked, and you felt him shudder from above, kisses pressed into the crux of your shoulder and neck as he whispered into the skin. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you.

All too soon, the high of your ecstasy fizzled away, and reality came crashing down around you. Your arms and legs tightened around him, small hiss coming through his teeth as your walls clamped around him. 

The stinging prickle of tears filled your eyes again, “Please don’t leave me.” You cried, heart beginning to feel as though it was breaking all over again. 

Aemond pulled away from you, though not without a struggle, a different face looking down at you with a familiar sign of love. His hand came to brush the tears away from your cheek slowly, before he leant down to pull you into a kiss, your lips shuddering as you poorly contained a sob, “I will never leave you.” He whispered against your lips, “Not now, not ever. I am always here.” He pulled away, soothing your hair from your face as his brows pulled together in a way that you knew pain was coming. 

You tried to sit up, to try and soothe his pain, to instinctually run for the medication you had kept all these years, but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his large hand as he looked down at you, eyes now full of determination, “I am always watching you. And one day, Cregan won’t be a problem anymore.” 

You blinked in confusion as you looked at him, your own brows furrowing, but before you could even respond, his eyes shut in pain and a groan whittled through his lips, heel of his hand pressed into the side of his face where Aemond had lost his eye. 

“Aemond?” You whispered quietly, unsure what was happening.

Grey eyes opened slightly, looking at you in confusion as he blinked a couple of times, “Huh?” A low groan came from deep within his chest as he clutched the side of his head, “Wha- Wher-“

“Cregan?”

His eyes opened at you again, and then did a sweep of you and the position you were in. You looked no doubt a mess, hair tousled, neck red from where Aemond’s- Cregan’s hands had squeezed, down to your ripped dress, to finally where you were still connected, your combined releases leaking onto the old wooden desk.

Blinking rapidly he noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks, and suddenly the pain was pushed away by concern. Cregan’s hand came to touch your neck tentatively, fear rising on his features, "Are you okay?” His voice was rushed, “Are you hurt? Did I- Did I hurt you?”

Guilt and pain struck in your chest. 

He thought you were hurt. 

He thought he hurt you. 

You shook your head rapidly, clutching the sides of his face in your hands, “No, no. You didn’t hurt me. Not at all.”

Cregan seemed to relax at this, though there was still confusion as he looked at you, forehead pulled in pain as he tried to piece everything together.

“Did we…”

You bit at your lip, worrying it between your teeth, “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

The man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think, “I remember smelling food, and then I had this urge to go somewhere.“

Your heart began to race in your chest as you looked at him. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes searching his face for any sign of Aemond left. 

What had just happened?

Was any of that real?

What was happening to you?

What was happening to Cregan?

“Hey.” Cregan caught your attention again, lowering his face to your height, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth was dry. 

Were you okay?

No.

Yes.

You didn’t know.

“I’m okay.” You lied.

Cregan frowned at your obvious avoidance, “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” You reassured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your stomach turning. 

When you pulled away, Cregan was watching you with caution again.

“What?” You asked quietly, fear beginning to rise inside of you. 

Did he remember?

Does he know?

Did he-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You couldn’t help it. 

You couldn’t stop it if you tried. 

A broken sob fell through your lips like a half laugh.

Had you?

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

General Taglist:

@mvdhvtterxx @iamavailablesstuff @apollonshootafar @honeybunnee @kckt88 @youraverageaemondsimp @themadelinehatter @saltedcaramelpretzel @thearieunhinged @aemondsbabygirl @constantlydelulusional @superclairebear96 @opheliaas-stuff @lokisdarlingpet @casualfansoul @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @dosxxy @astrocytes-axon

@kage-no-sonzai @honeybunnee @music-of-dragons @drakar-i @moteandlight-blog @bash1018 @americanprometheuss @hb8301 @ttkttt @the-jess-life @marihoneywk @iloveallmyboys @alegria1580 @heavenhatesme @msassenach @ahristata @hiraethrhapsody @drakar-i @avidreader73 @thefireblaze @marysucks-blog

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End (5)

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, fear of commiting s*icide, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, face fucking, blood, violence, and other very dark things. Aemond is unhinged and Reader is broken

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Notes: I think… Lucemond shippers are going to get a treat? jeje didn’t mean to, it just happened, never wrote anything like this 

I really wanted to end this in this chapter, but it grew monstrous, and yes, I will make two endings, they will be published together...

“You know? I had dreamed about this many times”, he said, his voice clear despite the stormy winds, “when I finally have you within reach, to slice up your face like you did me, all those years ago”

The winds blow his hair, his cape, and made him shiver, but he grabbed onto the pommel of the sword Daemon made him carry whenever he went out

“You are right”, he said, “Uncle, your trouble is with me, you anger, your hate, I owe you a debt”, he said shakily, the only thing on his mind was his sweet sister’s face. Aemond only smiled, a few feet away from him, “Let her go…”

Aemond chuckled darkly

“Well said bastard”

“Let my sister go, take me prisoner instead”, he said shakily, “its me you want”, he whined, he was shaking like a leaf, so much Aemond thought, amused, that he was going to soil his pants

But it was endearing

“I may have underestimate you nephew”, he said simply 

“I think you’d do the same thing…”

“Mmm”, now he was amused

“Take my eye, do what you have to do, slice my face, take both, take me whole to the Red Keep but… release my sister”, he said, with those big green eyes

“Why would I? she is certainly a more entertaining guest than you”, he muttered with sick smile

They had met in a small, lonely island on Blackwater bay, in a middle point between Dragonstone and King’s Landing 

“Like I said, it’s me who took your eye years ago, it’s because of me you are lacking an eye, it's because of me my mother asked you to be tortured, and is because of me your mother almost killed mine, I made everything worse, and is because of me you're hurting my sister…”

Aemond chuckled

“That’s not why I took her”, he whispered, Luke couldn’t hear him

“I am sorry Uncle, for what happened that night, and I know is easy to say it now, but I was sorry back then, and I am right now”

“That means little to me”, he said, fixing his composure, “what was your plan exactly?”, he asked, “you are in no position to make any demands, I could kill you, easily, what then?”

Lucerys stopped shaking, he straightened his posture, he let go of his sword

“I just wanted you to know uncle”

“That you are sorry?”, he mocked 

“Yes”

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies nephew, you are a bastard who tried to steal my brother’s birthright”

“I will not fight about this with you uncle”, he said, “release my sister and take me instead”

“Well, like I said, I’ve dreamt about this many times, and now that we are here, I don’t see why I should be bothered”, he said dismissively

If he killed Luke, you would just… die, even if you were still breathing, you would be dead in life

And that is not what he wanted

The winds blew even more stronger than before, whistling in the wind, a storm was coming

“Go home Lucerys”

“But… my sister”, he said, taking a step towards him

“I fuck your sister, every chance I get”, he said with a smirk, Luke began shaking again, “I have her locked up in your mother’s old chambers”, he moved uncomfortably

“Why her?”, he asked, “she had never done anything to you”

“She payed up your debt to me, you should be thankful”, he said simply, “you should spend every waking moment thanking her”

“I didn’t want her to”, he said, “I want to pay my debt, I want you to leave her alone!”, he demanded

“Too late for that, she is probably with my child in her belly”, Lucerys frowned

“It had only been a couple of weeks!”, he whined

“That is how it works”, he mocked

“Please!”, he was growing desperate, he was supposed to be relieved but he wasn’t.

He had made his peace, he had come here to die for his sister, only to bring her back to Dragonstone

He should have told Aemond to bring her along, to make sure she returns home 

“I have her”

“Take my eye!”, he said, grabbing a small dagger from his belt, he tried to take it himself, but his arm was shaking terribly, something primal, in the bottom of his being wouldn’t let him hurt himself

Aemond trotted towards him, and Lucerys didn't move 

Aemond grabbed his hand, that had the dagger, and with the other grabbed the back of his head, to prevent him from moving 

“I don’t want your eye”, he said. Lucerys felt chills when he saw his sapphire stone in its place, “because even with only one, I can see, I have your heart”, he said with a manic smile 

“Let her go”, he begged, “please”

“Being born second son is hard, you don’t know about this because you are in to inherit Driftmark”, he manipulated his nephews hand until the tip of the dagger was scratching his upper cheek, right under his eye, “I get nothing”, he growled, Lucerys whimpered, “But she… is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, that I’ve desired… so after all the shit that I have been through, I decided to take her”

“She doesn’t deserve it”, he said, “I do…”, he said, he looked into his uncle’s eye and calmed himself, he steadied his breaths and stopped shaking, preparation for the pain his uncle felt all those years ago, “do it, for her”, he said

It was true

Aemond had wished upon this day for many years

And now that it was here

He didn't know what to do

It didn't taste as good as he thought it would 

it was almost too easy

Lucerys was right there in his grasp 

“Like I said..”, he released him, pushing him away, Luke fell pitifully on the sand, “i don’t want your eye bastard, because I have your heart in the Red Keep”

Aemond didn't think the little bastard loved his sister as Targaryens do, as a man loves a woman, he knew he loved her like a real sister, and that made it better

Luke tried to stand up, but he placed his boot on his chest, keeping him pinned to the beach

“Go home and tell your mother I fuck your sister every night, I will keep her at court, pregnant with my bastards for everyone to see”, he said, “but she is well fed, and… healthy”, he relented, “not happy, but alive and well”

He looked at the dagger in his hand and dropped it by his feet

“Please, let her go”, he begged one more time, “she wants to go home…”

“I will see you on the battlefield, there I will not be so forgiving”, Aemond turned back and walked hastily towards Vaghar, who was watching it all with tired eyes

Lucerys watched as Aemond took to the skies without even giving him a scare, a second glance 

. . .

Aemond found you sitting on the bed hugging your legs to your chest, crying softly. 

In a rage, to hurt you, he had showed you the letter Lucerys had send, you had grabbed him, begged him, cried to him not to go, that his brother was sorry, that you were never going to beg him to be released again, that you were going to stay here willingly, that you were going to change your attitude, bend the knee to Aegon, you actually dropped to your knees and grabbed onto his legs 

He released himself from you and left the chambers with a sick smile on his face

You trashed your room, you cried and wailed until soldiers came inside and restrained you

A maester gave you milk of the poppy to calm you down, but nothing could ease your mind

Aemond was going to kill your brother

And there was nothing you could do about it

When he opened the door his eye landed precisely on you, and then he looked at the rest of the room, mainly destroyed, maids had taken the worst part of it, but still it was visibly depleted of your former belongings. 

You looked at him, frightened, crying, your face red.

“Did you murdered my baby brother?”, you asked, he shook his head

“No”, you took a long sigh of relief, “He went home”

“Why?”, you asked him, he didn’t even know how to answer that

“Why didn’t I kill my own flesh and blood?”, he asked, bitterly, “He begged me to take out his eye”, a single tear fell down your cheek

“Did you?”, you asked

“No”, he said simply, “he offered it to me in exchange of your release”

“And why didn't you?”, he took out his coat, and left it over the chair in front of the fire, he then lost his vest, and he continued to release himself from his clothes, to finally turn to you

You knew what he wanted, and you were exhausted, for being all day and good part of the night

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, you know why”, he said, climbing onto the bed, completely naked, you believed it was the first time you saw him bare like this 

He took the sheets that shielded you, and he took out your nightdress, you let him

You’ve come to learn that if you fight it, it was worse

And you didn't want to hurt anymore

You laid back as you spread your legs for him, and closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the pain. But what you felt was warm hands caressing your thighs, one of them traveling up your body, caressing you softly

You didn't know why, but this frightened you more than his roughness

You felt like he was tricking you into thinking he was going to be nice, only to hurt you again

You whimpered in fear

“Shhh, relax”, he whispered, “is alright, relax”, he continued gently, caressing your skin, the skin he once grabbed roughly.

One of his fingers teased your entrance, he teased and teased until eventually you relaxed, his finger now coated with juices, only then he put another finger to work, easing you open.

Only when he felt squelching noises, he dimmed you ready, he caressed your thighs, coaxing them open for him 

He entered slowly, gently, foreign, you had never felt this tenderness, from him…. he held you against him, one hand on your side, the other traveled to your face

“Look at me”, he demanded, and you obeyed, looking up at him. His thumb caressed the apple of your cheek as he fucked you slowly

You couldn’t say you enjoyed it, because he was always so rough, you were still sore, but at least, it didn't hurt

You didn't know which one was worse 

He cummed inside you, like always, and then he didn't discard you, he laid there by your side, he grabbed you and accommodated you by his side. You fell asleep quickly, that night, for the first time since he had you, you didn't have any nightmares 

. . .

Lucerys had arrived back home to Dragonstone with his tears dried upon his cheeks, he had no more to cry

He was weak and small, but he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and not even that had been enough

He was intercepted by Daemon, that was furious 

“Where have you been?”, he barked, grabbing him by the arm, “we had been worried sick”

“I tried to get her back”, he said silently

“What?”, he growled

“I met with Aemond, to offer myself for her”

“You did what? Are you mad? this was reckless, what if he had killed you? Can you imagine what your mother would have suffered?”, he said, shaking him, like that way he could restore him to sanity

“He didn’t take the chance to blind me”, he said, “I told him I was giving myself away, in exchange for her, and he wouldn’t go for it”

“We have Otto”, he said with a pleased smile

“What?”, asked lucerys

“A ship from Corly’s fleet caught him, he was trying to cross the Narrow Sea to gain support from those triarchy cunts”, he said, “we have him”

“We can trade him”

“Damn right we can”, he said with a wide smile, “we have a gathering”. he said, “a summit, with the great houses, and those traitorous cunts, there, we will discuss your sister’s release for him”, it was an improvement that he was still alive, thought Luke 

. . .

“Let’s give them the little bastard and be done with it”, said Aegon

“No”, sentenced Aemond, “not her”

“Aemond, they have your grandfather”

“Let them keep him”

“Aemond!”, shrieked Alicent, “he is your grandfather”

“He is a cunt that whore you out to Viserys, manipulated you for years, made you believe Rhaenyra would kill us, only to place this whoremonger, drunk cunt on the throne”, he said, Alicent was so enraged she didn’t know what to say, “let them kill him”

Aegon laughed, approving of his brother’s words, Alicent just covered her mouth

“How could you say something like that? everything we have done has been to keep you all safe”

“We are in the most dangerous position”, he said simply, “he will throw us all into war, for his ambition, we could all die for it”, he said, “yes we could kill them also, but it is naive to think all of us will survive”, he said, “Rhaenyra has the numbers”

“We have dragons”

“They do too”, he said, “and an the most powerful armada of the seven Kingdoms”

“Aemond, you did it”, she said softly, “you… had her, dishonored her… showed to everyone what she is…it is done”

“I’ll decide when it's done”, he growled, Aegon slapped the table, wanting the attention

“I am the King!”, he said, “i’ll decide when it's done”

“She is with child”, Aemond said, Alicent paled

“Aemond”

“She is with my child in her belly”

“It's been less than a moon”, she said then, “you can’t be sure”

“I’m sure”

“I don’t care”, said Aegon, “she goes”, he said. Aemond raised from his seat enraged, “careful brother, or we might start thinking you care about her”, Aemond walked away from the room, enraged 

He found you reading, cuddling by the fire in the hearth of the room 

As you always did you trembled when you saw him, and he give you a satisfying smirk

“Your treacherous family has my grandfather”, he thought he was going to see relief in your eyes, but he only saw fear

“I’m sorry”

“You are going to be”, he said, taking off his vest and undoing his breeches, “get on your knees”

You stood up from your place, walked towards him and did as he said, kneeling in front of him, who had sat on the bed. 

Aemond released his hard cock

“Suck”, he was impatient, and angry, he didn't wait for you to make up your mind, he grabbed you by the back of the head, grabbing into your hair roughly, you whined, but he didn't care you opened your mouth and he stuck his cock in it, until you were choking and crying 

“Do you hate me yet?”, he teased, you shook your head, “auw, aren’t you sweet?”, he pushed until your nose touched the hairs on his groin, you whined, not being able to breathe. He grunted above you, you tried to look at him, and his eye were closed in pure pleasure. Droll fell from the corners of your lips, making your chin burn

It didn’t last long, still grabbing you by your hairs he pulled you up only to throw you to be the bed

“Lay back, spread your legs”, he commanded, and just like the night before, you obeyed him without fighting

He took his time to admire you, specially the brand he had drawn on your thigh, the A could be seen, clear as day, he caressed it with his thumb

“We have to take advantage, in a moon’s time we have a summit with the high lords, they are going to try and trade you for my grandfather”, he muttered 

He kneeled on the bed and he grabbed your hips, raising them and drawing you to him, and then he thrusted into you, making you whimper

“No need to prepare you this time”, he mocked, “I knew you were a wanton little whore”, a single tear fell from your eyes as he started pounding roughly into you

It was foreign, for him to cuddle you like he had been doing for the past nights

You didn’t even know how long it had been since he had you here, trapped in these chambers

“Do you hate me now?”, he insisted, you didn’t know why is was so important, the answer was the same

“I don’t hate you uncle”

“What do I need to do to you for you to hate me?”, he asked quietly

“Why would you want my hate?”, you asked, tired

Yes, why?

Perhaps to make himself feel better, perhaps if you all hated each other this would be much easier. Perhaps he was angry, because he had spend all these years hating the lot of you, and you didn't hate him back, he had barely been in your mind those years you were in Dragonstone 

He was desperate to coax some feeling into you

You had loved him, you had said so yourself

Had

You clearly didn’t love him now, so the next best thing he could do, was make you hate him

Because he had loved you to

Since he was a child and you a little girl, he loved you innocently, with a still pure heart. 

But then his mother and grandfather poisoned him, poisoned his mind, his heart, putting into his head that you were just a little bastards who was out for their inheritance, their birthrights, that you were a little whore even if you were a young girl, just like your mother, that you were there to manipulate, to whore yourself out to get what you wanted

So his sweet, innocent, healthy childish crush became a dark obsession, because he shouldn’t want you, he should hate you, and yet… He started desiring you with his whole being… It was wrong, he was a prince, a prince taught by the teaching of the New Gods, and you were a bastards born of filthy and impure desire

At that point you were already in Dragonstone, but Aemond never forgot about you

By the time he saw you again during Driftmark, he couldn’t hide it no longer, despite what he knew his mother was going to answer, because she was intended on making peace with Rhaenyra

But that cunt took you away from him, scared

How could you refuse him? him? a prince of the realm, a Targaryen Prince, not a bastard like his children

When he came to his senses, he felt a warm liquid on his chest, you were crying, and he was grabbing so hard into you he was bruising you

“I just want to know why you hate me and my brothers so much”, you whined

Deep down he knew it was wrong, he knew that you were not at fault…

But you flaunted it

You and your little bastard brothers flaunted your inheritance, your dragons, always laughing, forgetting practice, not taking it serious enough

And then that little bastard took his eye

After he rightfully claimed Vhagar

He took his eye and his own father wouldn't defend him against them.

He hated you because you were happy, and you had the love of the man who was supossed to love him the most

And he was wretched 

And yet he couldn’t answer, he didn't find it in himself to look until he found a clear answer

So he didn’t

You hugged him, hugged his torso, your face on his chest

“I don’t want you to hate us”, you whined

Perhaps they were just children, manipulated by their parents, their frustrations, anger and hate rubbed into them, passed onto them like a twisted disease 

“Why?”, he asked

“Because I’m scared of that hate”, you answered, “all that hate is going to get us all killed”, you whispered, “I don’t hate you uncle”, you said then

“Even though I killed your dragon?”

“I don’t hate you” 

“Even though I raped you bloody?”, he asked in an even tone, you shook your head, “and I called you a whore, and a bastard?”

“I don’t”

This cycle of hate had to end with you.

“You don’t want me dead?”, he asked

“No”, you whispered, “I just wish we could all be small again, and play together like we used to, we could have been good friends”, you said childishly

You had been so protected and guarded your entire life that you still held onto that childishness 

He chuckled

He had killed your dragon, drowned you, raped you, choked you, humiliated you, defiled you, and the only thing you wanted was for him not to hate you, to go back in time and start over, so you would all be friends

Oh you were so innocent 

So pure

“I don’t hate you Zaldrïtsos”, he said finally

He just enjoyed hurting you

He just enjoyed possessing you, it was much better, to take you by force... But he wanted you, you didn't want him back, but he had the power to take you by his own. It was exhilarating

But he didn't hate you

He wanted you so much that it hurt him

taglist

@lightdragonrayne @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @twobluejeans @toodlesxcuddles @sassysaxsolo @thearchitectoflove @maidmerrymint @floralsightings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @glendarollitkatharinesanders @ruhjkie @starkjedi @baconturtle @aleemendoza2425-blog @ahristata @dlwlrmas-world @yentroucnagol @hiraethrhapsody @alwaysholymilkshake @marihoneywk @belladonna00 @strangersunghoon @anehkael @t0uch-starved-h0e @hkmultifandom @letmehavemyfictionalmen @belcalis9503 @daddydaemonswife @daemontargaryenwhore @bash1018 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ninastyless @strangersunghoon @bellstwd