#daemon targaryen oneshots

[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

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

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

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Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

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[hotreadingwitch]

Hey, dear! I saw that you are accepting requests, so could I get an angst with fluffy Daemon x wife poc fem reader. Where he is sick and reader is worried (in my mind he hardly ever gets sick, sooooo) and takes care of him personally, please?

Daemon x Reader - Sick Day

A/N - hello love! thank you for this lovely request!! It ended up being more fluffy than angsty in the end but I hope you enjoy xx

Content Warnings/Kinks: light degradation (use of “whore”), brief choking, edging/orgasm denial, handjob, oral sex (blowjob), light fingering, breeding kink, riding, vaginal penetration (unprotected)

“I’m not sick” he argued. 

Prince Daemon, who was usually commanding in both his actions and his tone, seemed simply like a wilted flower, with his slouched shoulders and sniffling nose. Despite his attempts to convince his wife otherwise, his health had declined quickly after his return from a recent battle, resulting in a fever. It was funny really to Y/n Velaryon that her husband, the fearsome (and sometimes detested) Daemon Targaryen, had been taken out by something as simple as a common cold. 

“You are, my love,” she warned, tilting her head to look down at him where he lay in their large bed amongst the fluffed pillows and Dornish linens, “Now let me take care of you.” 

Daemon growled lowly/petulantly, his eyes daggers, before he eventually softened, resigning to her care. “Fine” he mumbled. 

You’d think Daemon was one of their toddlers with the way he acted sometimes. But, luckily, that didn’t stop him from unbuttoning his billowy, white shirt so that his wife could apply a cool cloth to his chest, neck, and forehead. Daemon grumbled but didn’t complain much as she towelled him off, applying firm but gentle pressure. Dragging the wet cloth down the curve of his neck and across the expanse of his chest muscles, Y/n found herself quickly distracted by the sight before her. 

“Like what you see love?” His cheeky attitude truly never left him, even when he was ill. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, her eyes flicking up to his, realizing she was caught, “You might be feverish My Prince but that doesn’t make you any less attractive to me. We vowed in sickness and in health, remember?” 

He leaned back against the headboard, muscular arms supporting his head in a dominant stance as he appraised her in that seductive, wanting way that she knew meant trouble. 

“Daemon…” she chastised, even with one look she could tell exactly what he was thinking. 

“C’mon love,” he moved forward, sitting up so that he could place a small kiss on her jaw. 

Her breath hitched at the feeling and he knew then that he’d won. 

A small kiss. “Didn’t you say you were going to take care of me?” Another peck. His teeth grazed her neck. Y/n could practically feel his smirk on her skin. 

Daemon’s trail of kisses was getting dangerously low on her chest, not that she was making any move to stop him with her head thrown back, completely taken by the warmth of his lips on her. 

“Daemon, you’re sick, we can’t—“ 

“We can and we will” he growled, before amending his command, “If you want me tonight that is?” 

“I do” she conceded, her gaze meeting his fiery one, “I do want you Daemon, always…Now take off your trousers.” 

Daemon stripped easily, removing his bottoms with the efficiency of a man who knew he was about to be truly pleasured. She slunk forward on the bed, positioning herself so that she was on her knees, her legs tucked beneath her. His calloused hand caressed her cheek, a sweet show of intimacy before she even had begun. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked. 

“Yes—fuck” he groaned, needy for her as he always was. 

She made a show of spitting onto her hands and rubbing them together, creating two slick surfaces before sliding them slowly down the length of his shaft. Daemon growled at the pressure, instantly sensitive and bucking into her ready hands. She moved up and down, building up pleasure and momentum as she did until her speed was exactly what she knew Daemon craved, and needed. 

“So good Y/n” he groaned, licking his lips, “Always such a good little whore for me” 

“You love it” she teased. 

His smirk and quiet groan was his affirming response. As she glided her hands up and down, gripping him ever so tightly, causing Daemon to hiss, she could tell he was close to the edge. His eyes traced her, watching every movement with reverence. It resounded her how a man so harsh, so fearsome, could be so gentle, so tender. He was the father of her children and the love of her life. Though that wasn’t to say they didn’t get rough in bed at times. She felt though that that trust only spoke to the unbreakable connection that they shared as husband and wife. 

With a smirk of her own, Y/n pulled her hands almost completely off of Daemon, trailing her fingers delicately over the sides of his shaft and in circles around his head as his breathing slowed. 

“Fuckk Y/n” he growled, out of breath and head thumping back against the headboard, “Pray tell what did I do to deserve this torture tonight? You won’t take pity on a sick man?”

“You did nothing My Prince,” she practically batted her lashes, feigning innocence, “I only know after years of marriage that the more I tease you the more you’ll cum.” 

“Is that so?” 

She shimmied further back on the bed so that she could lay herself between Daemon’s legs. He let out a small whine as she lowered her mouth to the tip of his hard cock, letting her slow, moving tongue answer his question. This time, his hands instantly found their way to her blonde hair, tightly gripping the strands in a way that made Y/n’s eyes roll back in her head. She loved pleasing Daemon, loved the way he let her take control and the way he came apart before her each time. It was that same love and trust again that allowed for their sex to be as good as it was. 

Y/n’s tongue swirled around Daemon’s head before sinking down onto him, engulfing his cock with the warm wetness of her mouth. She bobbed and bobbed, her hand gripping the base of his shaft and moving in time with her mouth. There was something about sucking Daemon off that made Y/n particularly turned on and by the time he was close again, she felt she must be dripping beneath the folds of her nightgown. 

She popped off of him just as his chest began to heave, leaving him wanting more for the second time that night. 

“You’re going to be the death of me” Daemon breathed shakily, reaching forward in a flash and pulling her on top of him. He placed a needy kiss on the curve of her neck. “The time for teasing is over, my love. You’re going to ride this cock until you make us both burst. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, My Prince” she smiled, ready to feel him inside her. 

His eyes were hungry as he lifted up the fabric of her nightgown, exposing her cunt to him. 

“Are you slick enough?” a hand dipped down to explore, cupping her roughly in that desperate way that she loved before spreading her folds, “Mmm, you’re wet love but I could make you a lot wetter, couldn’t I? Maybe after all that you deserve to be teased too hmm?” 

“Daemon…please” she begged, biting down on her lip. 

His fingers traced from her wet slit to her clit in one fluid motion, taking her slickness and using it to swirl smoothly over her sensitivity. Her warm skin flushed with heat as he touched her, playing with her clit and making her breath hitch at the feeling. 

“Lean back for me, love” he ordered gently. 

When she obeyed, he slipped a finger up into her, humming with satisfaction at how well she took him. Once she got used to him, taking the lone digit all the way, he added a second and reapplied the glorious pressure on her clit. He thumbed her, and pressed upward, fingers curling inside her until she felt like she was seeing stars. Y/n’s body shook, pleasure unfurling within her the more he praised her body with his touch. 

“Daemon” she whimpered, gripping the linen sheets. 

“Not yet love” Daemon chided. She supposed it was only fair that he teased her as she had him. But still, the feeling of her orgasm slowly slipping away was not one that ceased to aggravate her. And so, she decided to take matters into her own hands. 

Leaning forward to fully straddle Daemon with her thighs spread as widely as possible over him, she whispered into the shell of his ear, her voice pure seduction as she asked “Can I fuck you now, My Prince?”

Y/n felt him rock hard beneath her as she slowly slipped her slick cunt over him, showing him where she wanted him most. 

He completely fell for her tricks, “Yes, fuck yes, Y/n please.” 

“Yeah? You want really it?” She teased, purposefully testing his patience. 

Daemon glared, never one to release dominance. But finally, he conceded, eyes filled with fire as he begged in a low voice, “…I need to be inside you” 

“That’s better” she smirked. 

Before Daemon could comment on her snakiness, she slid herself down onto him, gripping his shaft until he was fully sheathed inside her. His hands gripped her hips and in an instant, they were moving. Daemon thrusted upward as she ground down onto him. The initial feeling was one of fire. It sparked inside her before spreading warmth throughout her entire body, concentrating at her very centre. 

“Kiss me” Y/n whined, needier than ever as the pleasure overwhelmed her. 

“I’ll get you sic—“ 

“I don't care” she murmured against his jaw, her mouth moving towards his lips, “I don’t care…”

When she pulled back to look at him, she thought that his eyes must be reflecting moonlight, for surely his blue-grey eyes did not simply shimmer like that one their own. Their kiss then was long and languid, as if they knew that after all their teasing and all their bickering, nothing mattered more than simply being with each other, pleasing each other. Y/n’s hips moved forward and back, making Daemon moan into the kiss, her mouth catching the sound like a pail fills with water. 

“That’s it love” he praised, gripping the flesh of her hips with one hand and pleasing her clit in that way he knew she adored with the other. 

Daemon smiled as she repeated her motions, sinking down onto him time after time. He caught himself admiring how with her head thrown back her throat gleamed with sweat. How her moans released from her mouth and up to the Gods. She folded forward then, resting her head in the crook of his neck as she rocked her hips. Desperate to cum, she moved against him like a woman possessed by some spirit. 

“That’s it, love, make yourself cum on me” 

Her insides clenched, the feeling overwhelming her and she knew Daemon must be able to feel it too. All their touching, gentle and rough, caused their pleasure to multiply tenfold. Once Daemon had slipped his cock inside her, Y/n was losing herself quicker than she ever did. She could feel her cunt clenching around him as they moved, sweaty bodies working toward their bursting in tandem. 

“You want my cum love?” Daemon asked huskily, the tightness of her cunt around him clearly overwhelming him too.

“I want it Daemon, please cum in me” she begged, her voice a quiet whimper, “Please.”

That was all it took before he burst within her. His hips snapped against her, using all of his limited energy to please her as she desired. 

“Mmm, Dae—mon…” she mumbled, the whispered words lost to the steamy air that surrounded them like a dome.

He broke apart from the kiss in an instant, “Yes, say my name love, let me hear you say it as you cum.” 

“Daemon” she smiled before whispering against his lips, out of breath, “Daemon, Daemon, Daemon, Dae—“

Their mouths crashed together again, Daemon fucking up into her, grinding himself upward into her soaking cunt. Y/n’s eyes rolled back, completely gone to the pleasure. She wanted Daemon, she loved him, and the emotions she felt then only added to the war raging inside her body. Tension, sweet tension, seeped out of her, coating Daemon’s thrusting cock. 

Moving deep within her while rubbing fiercely at her clit kept Y/n’s orgasm flowing within her like pulsing waves. She gasped when his other hand returned to her neck, squeezing harshly. Her wet cunt gushed, her cum mixing with his, as he pounded in and out of her at a fast pace. 

“Daemon…” she whimpered, relaxing on top of him as their pleasure wet the sheets below. 

“Avy jorrāelan” he breathed, shuddering against her. I love you.

“Issa tolī, issa jorrāelagon, issa tolī” she smiled. Me too, my love, me too. 

[fayesia]

Day 7 - Breeding

"The Realms Desire" - uncle!Daemon x niece!reader

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ׂ🦢 𓈒ೀ

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings - Targcest!, breeding kink obv, Aemondxreader mentioned, cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk, nipple play?, brief slut shaming, spit play

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc - 2.1k

The final family supper ended in uproar, as the children were sent to their respectful chambers, the remaining adults silently looked at one another. Letting out a sharp breath Alicent concluded the dinner.

"Well, I believe we should all take our rest, it has been quite an...eventful night."

Agreeing with her, the dining hall cleared out, and you took the long winding walk through the silent hallways back to your room. As you neared the corner to your apartments door, a hand reached out harshly, tugging you against their lean figure. Letting out a yelp, you panicked before realising it was Aemond, his eyes wide because of the loud noise you made.

"Aemond, what is the manner of this? You should be in your room"

"Please. I need you. Just one more time, one last time"

It wasn't a secret to the guards and maids who patrolled the halls and entered your room that Prince Aemond would spend some nights with you. The manner, however, was merely for comfort, and although clothes were sparsely worn, blasphemy never fully occurred. He would simply explore and imagine while you gently stroked the soft gleaming white hair the two of you shared.

"Not tonight, Aemond. Tensions have already risen thanks to your rash wording, I think it's best not to stir the pot anymore."

His grip, however, didn't loosen. Your reprimanding words and denial hurt the Prince, someone who was born with a golden spoon in their mouth. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but upon the sound of nearing footsteps, he stepped away and out of the shadows, sauntering off in the opposite direction.

You caught your breath as thoughts swirled in your mind. Pushing open the door, you turned to close it before a voice called out to you.

"Princess, wait"

Before you could reply, your uncles broad frame walked in, cornering you against the now shut door.

"What was Aemond doing here, with you, I recall the children being sent to bed"

Stunned at the confrontational question you took a while to reply.

"Yes...no..he was-Aemond was just..."

Your sentence faltered, unable to answer as your head hung low to not look Daemon in the eyes.

"Was he listing after you again? Is that it? Did he want to fuck you tonight. After all the discord he has caused."

"What? No. No, of course not, don't be ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous? Me asking about the man who enters your room to bed you every night is ridiculous?"

"He doesn't bed me."

"Of course he doesn't. Because he sees all of you and simply does nothing, is that it?"

His sarcastic tone did not go unoticed, angering you more as he spoke down to you as if you were still a mere child.

"Yes! Uncle he does nothing. Please believe me."

"How can I believe you, the evidence is rather contradictory of what my ears are hearing and my eyes see."

"Why should it bother you? You have your wife, my sister. My behaviours should be of no business to you. Whether I bed him or not is not a matter of your concern, uncle."

Stepping sidewards to evade his presence, Daemon moves quickly, slamming you against the door and knocking the breath from you.

"Do you like that he fucks you princess, to spend every night getting filled with his seed? Is that all you want to be. A whore for a disfigured man."

Casting your eyes from the floor to your uncles face, you see the rage he holds.

"Can barely call him a man, though can I. You don't even know what it's like to take the cock of a real man"

Leaning closer, his hands travelled from your shoulders to your waist.

"Do you want to know what it's like, princess?"

He hips rubbed against you, both strong arms from years of training and fighting pulled you closer, as you felt his hard bulge beneath his breaches. You let out a whimper, an internal battle being fought about his advances.

"We mustn't. We can not." Your cheeks flushed as heat coursed through your entire body. Your words were the opposite of your movements, chest to chest with your uncle, the thin material of your gown rubbed against your sensitive nipples. The sight of them pebbling added with the sensation had you growing wetter, shifting your thighs against each other in an effort to stop the reaction you had to Daemon.

An action not gone unoticed by him.

"We can though. No one has to know. I can teach you how a proper man fucks his whores."

Throwing all rash thoughts out the window you meekly nodded while your uncle steered you towards your bed. Laying you on your back Daemon climbed over, leaning down to connect lips in an unforgiving kiss, you grew dizzy at the sheer force while his tongue explored your mouth. His spit mixed with your own as his tongue traced across your lips before dragging down your chin to your neck, where kisses were places against your soft skin.

You lifted off the bed, soft moans released from your mouth, in hopes to be as close with Daemon as humanely possible. His hands lifted you upwards to him until you were comfortably straddling his lap. The expertise he had with woman coming to light as he was quick and swift to untie the laces of your dress as it fell from your shoulders. Leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes, which was already soaked in your own desire.

With an act of confidence you leaned forward to connect your lips to his once more, Daemon used this time to clumsily undress while trying to keep you pleased with his mouth. When you disconnected, your eyes wavered on the many battle scars that marred the Princes skin, from his neck to his back, you gently lifted a finger to trace the scarred flesh.

Daemon used this opportunity to explore you himself. His large hands encased your breasts that fit comfortably in his palms. Rubbing across your pebbled nipples, he smirked, squeezing the flesh, noticing the subtle rotation of your hips against his groin.

"Does my princess enjoy this?"

Unable to get the words out you just nodded.

"Is this what you and Aemond do?"

The tone in his voice was one of mock and jealousy, and you thought it best not to reply with your usual sarcastic tone. For this was not a moment you wanted to end because you simply couldn't hold your tongue.

Laying you back down, Daemon travelled down your body, licking your nipples as he took turns to evenly stimulate both with his tongue. The spit felt sticky and made your nipple harder once they were released from the Princes' warm mouth. His tongue continued its journey downwards, his mouth encasing your cunt over your damp smallclothes.

"Or is this what he does to you?"

Licking more stripes across the fabric, it soon grew transparent with the mixture of both his spit and your liquids. Shaking your head, you denied such actions every occurring.

"Shame. The boy is missing out. Never tasted a sweter cunt. That of a virtuous princess."

His strong hands ripped the smallclothes from your thighs as they were roughly tossed somewhere across your room. Inhaling sharply, you felt Daemons mouth back on your sensitive flesh, except this time there was nothing in between, his tongue flicking through your crevices. Your hands grabbed at his hair, pushing him closer to your centre while he worked ferociously in an effort to make you climax. Looking down at him, your eyes met his hooded ones, the purple of both your eyes were darkened by the lust shared for one another.

Holding your legs open, his grip on your thighs grew stronger as you came. His name flowed off your tongue like a prayer, and your moans could easily be heard by the guards standing outside in the hallway. Your hips bucked into his face as your body and mind fought a battle of whether to run from the pleasure or take more.

Daemon released your shaking thighs, climbing up your body with a smirk across his wet face covered with your release. His kissed you again, this time with the sole purpose of sharing the taste of your release between both of you. The idea was made obvious as he gathered his spit and spat in your own mouth.

The liquid made up of mostly your own release, the messy transaction dripped down your chin, but Daemon gathered it with his thumb, pushing it back into your mouth for you to swallow.

Sucking his thumb, you looked at Daemon with the sweetest eyes in the realm. For if your sister was the realms delight than in this moment, he concluded that you were truly the realms desire.

His cock was enough to prove that, it's much gossiped about size was bobbing against your thigh and becoming harder to ignore as precum dripped from it and marked your skin.

"Please, Daemon, I want you, need you to fill me"

"Is that what you want sweet niece, to be fucked like a whore, to feel your uncle fill you with his seed"

Nodding your head, you went limp as Daemon positioned you on all fours. A pillow under your stomach as he pushed you back into a deep arch, his mouth gently kissing down your spine. Entering you in one quick thrust you moaned into the sheets, immediately feeling stuffed with the thick girth of your uncles cock.

"Gods, you feel so good."

"The gods are not the one filling you, sweet thing. It is my name you should be calling out to."

Daemons thrust sped up as your unwavering moans spurred him on. His hands grabbed the flesh of your hips to guide your cunt up and down his cock as they travelled up to grab your breasts. His fingers squeezing your nipple as the flesh of his thighs loudly slapped against the flesh of your ass. Finally one of his hands moved to wrap around your neck while the other around your waist lifted you to lean against his chest.

The new position allowed his cock to enter you at a deeper angle than before. Your eyes could barely stay open as they rolled back in pure pleasure as your mouth fell open with no noise escaping.

"Do you enjoy this? Being fucked by your uncle. To know your uncles seed will soon fill you up so you can carry his babe."

Whining out you couldn't think hard enough to reply, his cock had fucked you dumb. Turning your head the look you gave him was enough to answer his question, his mouth released a puff of hot air against your neck as he laughed.

"To bad that boy will never fuck you like this, ruined you for anyone else haven't I sweet niece, no one else will fuck this cunt better than your dear uncle."

Absentmindedly, you nodded, almost letting out a yelp of shock when Daemons fingers reached down to rub at your bundle of nerves.

He makes you squirm as he drills his cock harder up into you, while circling his fingers faster, drawing you over the edge. Clawing his arm that's wrapped around your waist, your throughs of pleasure lead you to press deep cresent into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Breathing heavily against your neck he fully sits you on top of his cock as his climax nears.

"Let me fill you niece. So you can grow my babe in you and mother my child, strengthen our family line, and grace our children with your beauty."

Dazed and exhausted from the best climax you had ever had, you stroked Daemons hair in almost the same way you do with Aemond. As wrong as it was, you found it amusing that the two men with so much tension between them had the same liking to certain treatments in bed.

"Please uncle..cum inside me...fill me with your seed, please Daemon.

The sound of his name whispered from your lips and the taboo of an uncle breeding his niece, pushed him to his breaking point, letting out a near animalistic groans as his cock pumped his cum into you. The warm liquid splashed against your walls and was sure to fill your womb with how deep he was inside you.

Gently kissing his forhead you stroked your uncles hair, letting him catch his breath. It was a mutually agreement to not move you off his cock, for the Princes seed must go to waste.

"So good...such a good girl for me."

His words brought a warm feeling of pride to spread inside your chest as you curled in his lap, drifting into a restful sleep as he rocked you in his arms like he did when you were young.

Kinktober Masterlist

[sachaa-ff]

Daemon Targaryen x reader!nièce Targaryen

You just turned 18 and when it’s finally your time to be married, every suitor find a tragical ending..

Request are open 🫶🏼

“Claimed by Fire”

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm glow across the gardens of the Red Keep. Today marked a significant milestone—you had finally turned eighteen, and with that came an overwhelming number of wedding proposals from eager suitors. Yet, a dark cloud loomed over the festivities. Whispers echoed through the halls, tales of vanished men and those found dead under mysterious circumstances.

Each proposal left you feeling more uneasy than the last. It seemed like every time you entertained a suitor, his fate was sealed. As much as you yearned for love and companionship, the dread of what might happen hung over you like a shroud.

You spent hours in the gardens, finding solace among the blooming flowers, hoping to escape the suffocating pressure of court life. Your sister, Rhaenyra, often came to visit, her presence a comfort, but even she couldn’t quell the unease that gnawed at you.

On one particularly quiet afternoon, you were lost in thought, staring at the vibrant petals of a rose when the heavy doors of the garden swung open. Daemon, your uncle stormed in, his usually playful demeanor replaced by a palpable fury that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Uncle, what’s wrong?” you asked, instinctively taking a step back.

“Wrong?” he spat, his voice laced with anger. “Those bastards think they can toy with you, and I will not allow it.” He stepped closer, his violet eyes blazing. “They want to marry you, but I know what’s really happening.”

Before you could respond, Daemon produced a bloodied cloth, unfurling it to reveal the severed head of one of your suitors. You stumbled back, horror coursing through you. “Daemon, what have you done?”

“Done?” he echoed, incredulous. “I’ve done what needed to be done. He was a coward, seeking to claim you while others plotted against you. No one will threaten what is mine.”

Your heart raced with a mix of fear and exhilaration. “What do you mean, ‘what is mine’?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

Daemon stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “You belong to me. I have loved you since you were a child, and now that you are of age, I will not let anyone else take you from me.”

His words hung heavily between you, igniting a storm of emotions. “But Daemon, this isn’t how it’s done,” you protested, feeling both fear and an undeniable pull towards him. “You can’t just kill suitors because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said, a dangerous smile creeping across his lips. “I’m protecting what’s rightfully mine. They will learn to fear the name Targaryen.”

A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you—fear, excitement, and a thrilling attraction. “Is that all I am to you? A prize to be won?” you challenged, struggling against the intoxicating pull of his presence.

“Not just a prize,” Daemon replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You are my heart, my fire. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means bathing my hands in blood.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. The tension between you was palpable, electric. “And what if I don’t want this, Daemon?” you asked, searching his eyes for any sign of compromise.

He paused, the intensity in his gaze softening momentarily. “You think you have a choice? You’re not just a pawn in this game. You are my blood, a Targaryen. You are meant for greatness, and I intend to ensure you know it.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “You can’t just take me,” you whispered, but deep down, a part of you craved the very protection he offered, even if it came at such a high cost.

“I will not let anyone take you from me,” he vowed, his voice low and serious. “You are mine, and I will prove it to the realm.”

With that, Daemon closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with a searing kiss. It was fierce and demanding, a clash of passion and power that ignited something deep within you. You melted against him, overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the depth of his desire.

When he pulled back, his expression was intense, a mix of pride and possessiveness. “We will face whatever comes together,” he said, his voice husky. “I will protect you, and in time, you will understand why I do this.”

Your heart raced, torn between the danger and the thrill of being with him. You stood on the precipice of something new and terrifying, unsure of how to proceed.

As the days turned into weeks, the initial shock of Daemon’s violent declaration settled into an intense connection between you. The danger that once terrified you now felt like a tempest of passion, stirring your heart in ways you never expected. Daemon was not only fierce but also vulnerable in his own way, and you found yourself drawn to him more each day.

The whispers of court life continued, and the mystery of your suitors’ fates loomed larger than ever. Every glance, every whispered comment became a reminder of the peril surrounding you. Yet, with Daemon by your side, you felt an odd sense of security, as if you had stepped into a world where the rules no longer applied.

One evening, as you strolled through the moonlit gardens, Daemon caught your hand, pulling you close. “You should be careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “You never know who’s watching.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, trying to sound confident. “I’m not afraid.”

His laughter was rich and deep, echoing in the night. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery can lead to foolishness.”

You turned to face him, challenging him with your gaze. “And what would you have me do? Live in fear? Hide away while you fight my battles?”

Daemon’s expression grew serious. “It’s not about fear. It’s about protecting what’s mine. And you, my dear, are worth fighting for.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Do you really think I’m worth all this trouble?”

He leaned closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “You are more than worth it. You are my heart. I’d slay a hundred men to keep you safe.”

Your pulse quickened, the weight of his promise sending a thrill through you. The danger, the passion—it was intoxicating. But still, a small voice in your head warned you. “And what if it’s you who needs protecting, Daemon? You can’t take on the world alone.”

His smile was sly, and he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “Perhaps you underestimate me. I thrive in chaos. It’s in my blood.”

Just as you were about to respond, a rustling in the bushes caught your attention. Your heart raced as a shadow moved, and Daemon instinctively pulled you behind him, his posture protective and ready for confrontation.

“Who goes there?” he called out, his voice low and commanding.

A figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing itself to be one of the guards. “My lord, there have been rumors of more suitors arriving. They’re eager to win the lady’s favor.”

“Let them come,” Daemon replied, his voice dripping with disdain. “They will find only death at my hand.”

The guard nodded, backing away. As the tension in the air settled, you turned to Daemon, feeling the weight of his possessiveness. “You can’t keep doing this, Daemon. You’ll only draw more attention to us.”

He smirked, his expression both devilish and charming. “Good. Let them see. Let them know what happens to those who try to claim what belongs to me.”

The heat of his words ignited something deep within you—a mix of fear and excitement that left you breathless. “And what if I want to choose for myself?” you challenged, daring to look him in the eye.

Daemon stepped closer, his face inches from yours, his expression serious. “You don’t understand, do you? In this game of thrones, choices are often an illusion. I am fighting for you, and in return, I want you to accept that you are mine.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you. “But what if I want to make my own choices?” you whispered, unsure if you were ready to surrender to this fate.

“Then choose me,” he urged, his voice low and sultry. “Choose to be with the one who will always protect you, no matter the cost.”

The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and for a moment, you were lost in the promise of his words. The idea of surrendering to him, of being claimed in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, was becoming increasingly tempting.

As the moonlight bathed you both in silver, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. But with Daemon, there was also a promise of fire and passion, a fierce loyalty that stirred your heart. Maybe, just maybe, you could learn to embrace this destiny he laid before you.

Days turned into a whirlwind of courtly intrigue and tension, each moment drawing you closer to Daemon and the fire that burned between you. As your relationship deepened, you found yourself balancing fear and desire, caught between the love that was blossoming and the darkness that surrounded you.

You began to understand that in this world of power plays and bloodshed, love could be both a weapon and a shield. And as you faced whatever challenges awaited, you knew one thing for certain: you were no longer just a pawn in someone else’s game; you were a Targaryen, and you would fight for your place in this world—right alongside Daemon.

[shuichiakainx]

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

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Plunge

Daemon Targaryen x wife! Reader

angst with a happy ending

warning: death, angst, assault, murder, feral Daemon I guess, stab wounds

The night was soft, filled with the gentle crackle of the hearth and the rhythmic sound of Daemon’s breathing beside you. His arm lay draped protectively over your swollen belly, his warmth grounding you in a world so often fraught with chaos. You felt safe in these quiet moments when it was just the two of you—and the life you carried within.

Daemon shifted beside you, his violet eyes opening lazily as the babe stirred under his palm. His lips curved into a small smile, rare in its tenderness. “Restless already,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “Like their mother.”

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his. “And their father. They’ll be unstoppable.”

He hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “They’ll have your heart, though,” he said, his voice growing softer. “And your strength. They’ll be more than unstoppable—they’ll be extraordinary.”

But the quiet didn’t last.

The door to your chambers burst open with a deafening crash. Before you could even process the sound, shadows flooded the room—men cloaked in darkness, their faces obscured.

Daemon was on his feet in an instant, his reflexes as sharp as ever, but the assassins moved with precision. A heavy net reinforced with barbs was thrown over him, dragging him to the ground. Before he could reach for Dark Sister, three men pinned him down, chaining his arms behind his back.

“Daemon!” you screamed, sitting up in bed, your heart pounding. But rough hands grabbed you, yanking you away from the covers.

“Let her go!” Daemon bellowed, his voice a roar of pure rage. He thrashed against the net, his muscles straining as the barbs tore into his skin. “Don’t touch her!”

You struggled, panic surging through you as the assassin dragged you across the room. “Daemon!” Your voice trembled, your hands clawing at the arm restraining you.

“Hold him down,” one of the assassins commanded coldly.

They forced Daemon to his knees, his head wrenched upward so he couldn’t look away. He locked eyes with you, and for the first time, you saw something in them that terrified you more than anything else. Fear.

“Are you hurt?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and desperate.

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face. “Daemon, please—please do something!”

“I will,” he swore, his voice cracking. “I’ll kill them all. Just hold on, love. I’ll get us out of this.”

But even as he spoke, the assassin holding you forced you to your knees, a dagger gleaming in his hand.

“The Rogue Prince has spilled enough blood,” the leader of the assassins said, his voice devoid of emotion. “It’s time he learns what it feels like to lose what he loves most.”

Daemon’s struggles grew frantic, his body twisting against the chains with such force that the metal bit deep into his skin. Blood dripped onto the floor, but he didn’t care. “Take me!” he shouted, his voice breaking with desperation. “Whatever you want, take it from me! Just leave her and the child alone!”

The assassin ignored him, pressing the blade against your belly.

“Daemon,” you sobbed, your entire body trembling. “Please, make them stop. Please, I’m so scared…”

“Don’t touch her!” Daemon roared, his voice shaking the walls. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”

The blade plunged in before he could finish.

You screamed, the sound ripping from your throat in raw, agonized terror. Pain radiated through your body, blinding and all-consuming. Blood spilled onto the floor, warm and sticky beneath you.

Daemon’s scream was inhuman, a guttural roar of anguish that echoed through the room. “No!” He thrashed violently, his eyes wide with horror as he watched the dagger twist deeper into your flesh. “Stop it! Stop it, you bastards!”

You clutched at your belly, sobbing uncontrollably as the assassin pulled the blade out and stabbed again. “Daemon…” you gasped, your voice trembling. “The babe—”

“You’ll be fine!” he shouted, his voice breaking with desperation. “The babe will be fine! Just—just hold on, my love!”

But the pain was too much, and your vision blurred. You collapsed to the floor, your body trembling as the blood pooled beneath you.

The assassins released you, their task complete, and turned to leave.

Daemon’s fury erupted. With a final, savage roar, he broke free of his chains, the metal snapping under the sheer force of his rage. He didn’t even reach for a weapon—he tore into the men with his bare hands, his grief and wrath transforming him into a beast. Blood sprayed across the room as he dispatched them one by one, his movements brutal and unrelenting.

When the last man fell, Daemon dropped to his knees beside you. “No, no, no…” His hands hovered over your body, trembling, unsure of where to touch without causing you more pain. “Love, stay with me. Please.”

“Daemon…” you whispered weakly, your eyes fluttering open. Tears streamed down your face as you reached for him.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking as he cradled you in his arms. “You’ll be all right. I’ll get help. Just—just stay with me, all right? Don’t leave me.”

You sobbed, clutching at his tunic. “The babe… Daemon, the babe…”

His heart shattered at the words. He pressed his forehead to yours, his tears falling onto your bloodied skin. “Don’t think about that now. Just breathe, my love. Stay with me.”

The pain in your body was unbearable, but you clung to his voice, his presence. “I’m sorry…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he choked out, his voice fierce even through his tears. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

The maesters arrived minutes later, summoned by the chaos. They worked frantically to stop the bleeding and stabilize you, their hands steady even as Daemon hovered like a storm, pacing and shouting demands.

Hours passed before the maester approached him, his face grave.

“She will live,” he said, and Daemon nearly collapsed with relief. But the maester hesitated, his gaze lowering. “The heir… the wounds were too severe. I’m sorry, my prince.”

Daemon’s breath caught, his relief turning to ash. He turned back to you, lying pale and weak on the bloodied bed, and the weight of the loss crushed him.

When you awoke, Daemon was at your side, his hand gripping yours tightly. His violet eyes, usually so sharp and defiant, were filled with unshed tears.

“Our child…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Daemon’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Daemon hadn’t left your side since the maesters stitched your wounds and wrapped your broken body in layers of linen. The pain was constant—every movement, every breath a reminder of what had been taken. But worse than the physical pain was the ache in your heart, the unbearable emptiness where your child had once been.

Daemon blamed himself.

He stayed with you day and night, refusing food and drink until the maesters forced him to take something. His hands trembled whenever he touched you, guilt pouring off him in waves. When you finally awoke after a restless night, you found him sitting beside the bed, his bloodshot eyes staring at the floor.

“Daemon…” Your voice was hoarse, weak.

He looked up sharply, his gaze softening as it met yours. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, though you could hear the strain in his voice.

You hesitated, your hand drifting to your stomach. The bandages were thick, and the faintest movement sent sharp, stabbing pain through your core. But it wasn’t the wounds that made you cry. It was the loss.

Daemon’s jaw clenched, and he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “I failed you, both,” he rasped, his voice heavy with self-loathing. “I swore to protect you, to protect them, and I—”

“You didn’t fail me,” you interrupted, though your voice wavered. “Daemon, you fought for me. You fought for us.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” he said bitterly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wasn’t enough. If I’d been faster, stronger—” He broke off, shaking his head.

Daemon’s breath hitched, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never leave you,” he swore, his voice trembling. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I’ll protect you with everything I have, for as long as I live.”

From that night on, Daemon changed.

When you were finally strong enough to leave the bed, he hovered over you like a shadow, his every move dictated by the fear of losing you again. He refused to let you walk unassisted, his arm always wrapped around your waist as he guided you, slow and cautious.

And at night, he no longer slept beside you with an arm draped protectively over your belly. Instead, he lay on top of you, his body curled around yours like a shield. You’d wake in the middle of the night to the sound of his breathing, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his head resting over your heart as if to reassure himself you were still there.

“Daemon,” you whispered one night, your voice soft in the darkness.

He stirred, his eyes opening to find you staring at him. “What is it, love?”

“You don’t have to do this,” you said gently. “You don’t have to… watch over me every second.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “I’ll never let anyone touch you again. If I have to stay awake for the rest of my life, I will.”

“Daemon—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted, his voice low and raw. “I almost lost you. I couldn’t protect our child, but I’ll be damned if I fail you again. You’re all I have now.”

Your heart ached at the grief in his voice. Gently, you cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m still here,” you whispered. “I’m still with you, Daemon. But you can’t punish yourself forever.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted. “I see it every time I close my eyes—what they did to you. The blood, your screams…” His voice broke, and he took a shuddering breath. “I can’t let my guard down again.”

“You didn’t let your guard down,” you said firmly. “You fought for me, Daemon. You saved me. And I need you to keep saving me—just not from shadows that aren’t there.”

He was silent for a long moment, his fingers tracing the faint scars on your arms and the bandages still wrapped around your stomach. Finally, he nodded, though you could see the fear still lingering in his eyes.

That night, he lay beside you instead of on top of you, though his arm never left your waist. His body was still tense, coiled as if waiting for an attack, but for the first time in days, he closed his eyes.

And though the scars on your body and heart would never fade, you knew you’d face them together.

[wholoveseggs]

~One Shots♡~ {<- masterlist}

18+

Smut ~ Violence ~ Fluff ~ Angst

A date with Klaus {3.5k} ♡♡ --- After a long day at work, you just want to go home and relax. Fortunately Klaus knows exactly what you need to unwind.

A date with Kol {3.5k} ♡♡ --- You are drowning your sorrows at the bar, but Kol has an idea on how to cheer you up.

A date with Marcel {2k} ♡♡ --- Marcel takes you out to see some live music and then charms your pants off.

A date with Elijah {3.5k} ♡♡ --- You are at the compound to confess your feelings to Elijah, as your nerves get the better of you, he finds a way to help you relax.

Truth or Dare {5k} ♡♡♡ --- You find yourself at a party you don't really want to be at. You meet the Mikaelson siblings and a game of truth or dare unfolds, revealing your secret and sparking a connection that changes the course of the night.

Blood Bath {2k} ♡♡ --- Aunt Flo comes to visit and the noble Elijah stands up to the bitch.

Better than flowers {3.2k} ♡♡ --- You've always hated valentines day until Elijah changes your mind with a magical date.

Sitting Pretty {1.7k} ♡ --- Pure filth, zero plot.

~Headcanons♡~

Dating the Mikaelsons {4k} ♡♡♡♡ --- Headcanons on sex & dating for Klaus, Kol, Marcel and Elijah.

Mikaelsons & Marijuana {1k} --- Weed related headcanons to celebrate gaining 420 followers.

Biting the Mikaelsons {1.9k} ♡♡♡ --- Just some headcanons on what I think bloodsharing would be like with the Mikaelson men.

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part six

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

series masterlist |

<<previous chapter

"To hold on, to the days when you were mine." - Peter, Taylor Swift.

These past few days, something has deeply changed in Daemon's psyche. He was always a neat freak, preferring to remain polished and clean on the outside while his mind was an overgrowth of plants that clouded his thoughts. He couldn't think straight then - but he kept a facade, pretending that he was sane. He wasn't.

Since seeing you in St. Joseph, he's lost all remnants of himself - the facade broke down and he was thrown into disarray. "Why is your shirt always untucked?" you chuckled, taking a step forward, as if it was second nature to fix his polo and tuck it into his pants.

"I was rushing," he found himself mumbling, confused at your sudden proximity to him. How long has it been since he's felt you? Had his fingers dance against your skin and body? You were always warm, and that was all he remembered about you.

Everything seemed to zone out in the background. He almost forgot that he was in a parking lot, and the sound of cars zoomed past him. All he could see was you, all that he could hear was you. He takes a deep breath, quickly composing himself.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, Rhaenyra herself even admitted that it was wrong. We shouldn't have fought in front of a guest." he apologized, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "If I'm lucky, I won't be a guest for long." you teased, fixing the strap of the handbag on your shoulder. "Mhm." was all he could muster.

The thought of you being married to his nephew made him want to puke. It made him want to kill himself.

He senses the awkwardness, he decides to clear his throat and look at his watch. "I guess this is goodbye. I'm running late for a meeting." he lied, staring at the side. "Of course, nice talking to you." you answered, equally as awkward as his intonation.

"See you tomorrow?" he smiled, walking past you.

"See you tomorrow." you replied, but he was too far to hear.

(ISLAND NEAR THE GHISCARIS)

Your mother descended from a long line of voyagers. Her family remained in Lyss, and life led her to Westeros. The skill of voyaging was long lost. You couldn't command a ship, even if your life depended on it - luckily, you were able to meet a group of female pirates on their way to the liberated islands near the Ghiscari Empire.

It was untouched due the large wall-like fortress that surrounded the shores. "I am surprised by your aptitude, not a lot of people appreciate the oceans well." Serenei, the woman that promised to keep you safe, handed you a cup of tea, the liquid inside of the cup was moving back and forth due to the waves.

"It's much like riding a dragon, though you shouldn't compliment me that much - I emptied my stomach a few hours ago." you giggled, remembering the reddish hue that your face turned into. Oh, your ancestors were turning in their graves. "Don't worry, it'll only be a few more hours until we reach the shores of Pharmaka." she placed a hand on your shoulder.

There was silence between the both of you, in fear of the unknown. You stared at the small round window beside you.

Would Daemon love the ocean too? You remember the War of the Stepstones. A sigh escapes your mouth, the wars have marred him and he wouldn't have loved the smell of salt air as much as you. "It's an island filled with women, not a single man is allowed." Serenei continued with a smile, and for a moment you pondered if she went though the same things that you did.

You shake your head. You wish that she didn't.

"It must be heaven, then?" Alyssandra leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep herself steady due to the treacherous waves that pumped against the ship's bodice.

"It is - utopia is what they call themselves." Serenei continued telling the story, a smile ghosts your face. Your life had turned into a story indeed, finding true love with a Dragon Prince - losing him and being forced to live through the tragedy in Harrenhal, and now you were halfway across the world, riding a ship that is going to a place that calls themself utopia.

(ST. JOSEPH SCHOOL OF DRAGONSTONE)

The steam of your coffee littered your face with kisses, and a groan escapes your mouth. You couldn't believe that you feel asleep through your entire free period. Those dreams weren't stopping, but the scenarios were drastically changing.

At first, they were filled with love - of scenes with you and the 'Dragon Prince' then they changed into nightmares - of ones that you couldn't remember, only waking up in tears - but now, you were in a ship to some unknown island that made you feel hopeful.

Once the story ends, would you be free of those dreams? Would you be free to live your life without those headaches that forced your head open, telling you that there was something that you forgot?

AEMOND NEW SIM How are you? You haven't messaged me in a while :(

YOU sorry i fell asleep hehehahaha 😭

AEMOND NEW SIM Sleeping on duty? tskk

Daemon interrupts you from replying by sitting next to you. There was a pang in your heart, something deep inside your mind telling you to run towards him and offer him a warm embrace. Flashes from your dreams come to you. The small round window, the small of salt breeze and his lavender eyes that felt like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled by the fire.

"Congratulations." Daemon opened his mouth to speak. He stared deep into your eyes, almost peering inside your soul. There wasn't an expression in your face that he hasn't seen a million times. "For what?" you inquired with a slight smile.

"The students proficiency in math has improved since you started teaching them." he informed, and you quickly remember that he attended a meeting earlier today.

A nervous chuckle escapes your mouth.

"They're struggling with the basic stuff, things that they're supposed to know in the first and second grade. I try to go back to those topics before getting back into the complex stuff." you explained, and the smile returns to your face, happy to speak about your passion.

"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working." he continued to compliment, liking that look in your eyes - the fire. Your body shifts unconsciously, your elbows much closer to his. Your coffee has long gotten rid of its heat, but there was still a million things you had to talk about with him.

"By the way, I thought that you were familiar even before I got to know you - then Harwin and the family talked about that trip to Italy that we both had at the same day. I know it sound a little weird, but I'm pretty sure that the picture you posted on your instagram was taken by me." you opened up the conversation, and he freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

August 23. He remembered vividly, right after you took that picture of him, he promptly collapsed on the curb and was brought to a hospital. That was also the day that he finished remembering his past life. His memories were revived by you?

"A funny coincidence," he managed to choke out.

The Gods were playing a cruel joke.

He stares at your face, seeing your squinting eyes - waiting for his reply. He decides that this might be the right time to talk about Tirano. "When you left, I actually collapsed." he chuckled, playing with the ring on his finger.

"What? Why?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I don't know if I'm the only one but - when I was younger I used to dream about weird things, dragons, kings, wars. At first, my parents thought that it was just the result of an overactive mind but the dreams persisted until I turned into an adult - actually I think I was in my late thirties or early fourties when they stopped. It stopped after that trip to Tirano." he monologued, now evading your gaze.

If you weren't able to make the connection, then he would've revealed himself for nothing. "I dream about those things too. Strange." you whispered, your voice suddenly decreasing in volume. "I'm not the only one then," he looked to the side.

"But you said that they stopped? How did they stop?" you asked, wanting to rid yourself of those nightmares. He smiled, remembering seeing your face before everything faded to black.

"I dreamed about myself dying, and after waking up in a hospital bed feeling like I slept a million years, I never dreamt about it again." he confirmed and your heart sinks to your chest. "Holy shit, this sounds so fanatically cultish." you cursed. "- you're telling me that I need to die in the dream to stop dreaming about it again?" you repeated.

He replies with a shrug.

"Well that's going to take a long time. I'm in like, Act Three of the whole novel." you decided to keep the conversation light, although the topic was serious and you weren't sure if you were there to believe him. "How many acts are there?" he raised an eyebrow. "How many acts are in Madame Butterfly?" you quizzed.

"Three...so you're near the end." he smiled. "I'm not sure, for all we know it might just be the end of the beginning." you answered.

He stands up, hearing the bells ring.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that you'll find a cure of your own." he bid his goodbyes and disappeared from the teacher's lounge.

AEMOND NEW SIM Can you pls catch a ride with someone u work with? I'm a little busy here in mom's house She's moving a few things Yknow her trip to Turkey

YOU Okay, what time will u be home?

AEMOND NEW SIM Probably before dinner If I'm out past six have dinner before me

YOU Alright, take care

next part >>

[endless-ineffabilities]

rogue ink

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 3.4k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: fluff, language, very brief mention of smut

The reader is devastated at the loss of her precious journal, worried that it might fall into the wrong hands. And who better else to discover it, but the Rogue Prince himself?

It was a small thing.

A small, leather-bound journal. Filled with accounts of your days and nights, your deepest thoughts, your pains. An unassuming object, sort of tattered from use.

And it had been missing for three days. The gods were not good.

You searched everywhere. Every corner of your chambers, in all the pouches you had especially sewn onto your dresses, practically every inch of the Red Keep which you have called home ever since your family was invited to King Viserys' court.

And yet it was nowhere to be found.

It was immediately noticeable to your inner circle that something was amiss, but you just shrugged it off. One person you did confide in, however, was Princess Rhaenyra herself. The two of you quickly grew close after her former companion, Alicent, was sent off to wed some wealthy, Southern lord.

"So what if it has gone missing? Perhaps you have simply misplaced it? Anyway, we could easily get you a new one, y/n."

Your head swiftly turned in her direction, "I appreciate your tone of confidence, Rhaenyra - "

She nodded, making a playful show of curtsying.

" - but... I've scrolled down personal matters in those pages. Especially when it concerns..."

She paused in her step. Hands clasped behind her, she leaned forward, "Ah. I see."

When it concerns Daemon. But it need not be said aloud.

Rhaenyra has been privy to some of your musings about her beloved uncle. Only the ones that you would ever let befall on another person's ears, that is. Some of it... well... would be more than enough to make any maiden blush.

"How could I forget?" Rhaenyra smiled, "You fancy Daemon." Then her face turns sly, "He fancies you too, you know. But of course, I know why you would be reluctant to engage with all of... that."

Your hand reaches up in an attempt to hide your face from shame, "Gods, what would happen if anyone at court were to find it? It would only be so easy to determine that the thing is my possession. I've written my father's and mother's names on it, and yours, and Daemon's..."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you steady, "This court of sycophants never runs out of fodder for their dull conversations. Your journal might be spoken of for a day or two, then they shall move on to something of lesser import."

You sighed deeply, a mask of calm appearing on your visage, though Rhaenyra knew better.

It will be alright. Another half-truth. This loss will soon be a trifling thing.

If only...

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Daemon Targaryen has been having quite the interesting time as of late.

The pages of your small, tattered journal feel light on his fingertips, but he might be inclined to say that the mere feel of the parchment is exhilarating.

These thoughts were yours. These secrets, these desires were yours.

Truthfully, he has not been completely shy about his admiration for you. His precious dove. His sweetling. You thought nothing of it, knowing full well how he is. The Rogue Prince has been known to possess countless paramours.

And you are damned if you would allow yourself to be one of his mere passing fancies. To be bedded one night and forgotten the next.

He once thought that his admiration is not well-received, until one morning, when he watched as an object fell out of your dress as you sprinted down the hallway, headed to only the gods knew where. You bumped into several ladies of the court, mumbling rushed apologies, only to be met with irate stares, but you went on without any mind to them.

Daemon failed to hide the smile that sprung from his lips. He quietly shifted to the spot where you dropped something, and that's when he saw it. Your journal.

It could only be yours. Who else would scroll down that thinly veiled warning on the first page, dedicated to any stranger who might deign to read it?

Daemon, of course, believed himself immune to such threats and he hurriedly found a secluded place to sit down and immerse himself in the woman who has managed to take sanctum in his mind.

And his heart, but the notorious prince would still be loath to admit that.

A few pages in, with amusement dancing his eyes, his chest felt warm at the image of you inking these thoughts onto the parchment.

Then came – “Once more, if you might be a nosy intruder, turn away now, or the very worst fortunes shall fall upon you. I swear this on both the old gods and the new.”

Perhaps I should stop. After all, she just might impale me with mine own Dark Sister if she found this in my possession. Daemon’s hand hesitated as he was about to turn the next page.

He had half a mind to close your journal, partially resolved at returning it to your chambers without you even having to notice its loss, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the following words…

“I finally saw Prince Daemon Targaryen this morning.”

How could Daemon stop his perusing at that moment? He read on with renewed interest, yearning to know more of what you think about him.

“By the gods, he is as beautiful as he is infuriating. I was made to be the cupbearer in today’s small council meeting, and the Rogue Prince strolled in, well in the middle of the discussion, without any mind as to the disturbance that his late arrival caused, if any. Not a care in the seven kingdoms. He paid absolutely no mind to me, standing there in the corner.

But I saw him.”

Daemon found himself rolling his eyes. Of course, he would give off the worst impression upon the first moment she glanced at him. But then again…

She thinks me beautiful. Vanity had allowed him to glaze over the part where you call him “infuriating”.

I suppose I shall have further use for your precious book, my sweetling.

And so the next few days were spent raking your journal for passages about him. Daemon knows full well that doing so can be deemed a violation of your privacy, but if he can use this to get closer to you, then this is something that simply must be allowed.

In his eyes, it may even be necessary. He needs this. Wants it, even. He wants to get under your skin, and these pages all but symbolize that very thing.

After all, Daemon swore that he shall only read the parts wherein he is concerned, and that is well within his right, is it not?

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“Daemon is indeed something to behold. Yes, my opinion still stands.

However, I am not certain what to make of him. Is he to be trusted? No. Bloody well not. Is he kind? That is not really a word anyone would use to define him.

But… there is something… something in his eyes. Daemon is much more than the rogue scoundrel that his moniker deems him to be. He is more than just ‘dangerous’ or ‘unpredictable’ or a potential ‘second Maegor’ (Truthfully, I find it hard to believe that last thing). Daemon is… more than that.

I just can’t find the words to encapsulate him. Perhaps words never can.”

The days pass quickly, and Daemon finds himself opening your journal now and again.

He cannot help it. The more he reads, the more he learns of you. But that is not the only reason. He is also discovering himself, as it turns out - an image of himself that he has not entertained before.

Not only The Rogue Prince, but a person of greater value than his notorious misdeeds. He believes that you see something in him that not even he can see himself.

Something more. Something… good.

Though his intentions prove to be not entirely innocent, as is the usual case. He comes upon one specific part, with your penmanship turning into a nervous scribble. It is as if you were wary that someone might be looking over your shoulder and deign to discover what salacious scrawls you have put down about the Rogue Prince.

Daemon’s eyes hurriedly glide over the ink, basking in what he reads.

“I must confess something.

I know it is quite unbecoming of a lady. Of a maiden. But in the last hour of the owl, I…

I…

Oh, gods. I pleasured myself to the thought of him.

You know. It can only be him. Daemon.”

“Seven fucking save me.” Daemon finds himself cursing with delight at what he just read. So his sweetling does want him in return. Oh, you cannot even imagine what I will do to you…

“We have grown quite close, him and I. Daemon is… Daemon is aflame. There can be no better word for him. He is fire incarnate, and I am not afraid of getting burned.

Or… I don’t want to be. I just. Want. Him.

I want to feel him. I want to feel his lips on mine. Not long ago, he leaned in close and his musk enveloped me. His lips very nearly grazed my cheek. Silly me could not come up with a witty response then and there. A shame. But can you blame me? All I could think about was snogging the fucking Rogue Prince himself!

Ha! Gods!

Perhaps I have gone insane.”

Daemon chuckles freely, alone in his chambers, your journal firmly between both hands. Any clueless onlooker would think it strange, as the Rogue Prince does not make a habit of exhibiting such behaviour. The pleasure in the tone of his laughter rings true and genuine.

If it becomes known that the reason for this is the Lady Y/n, then only a fool would dare deny the centre of their prince’s affections.

“But I cannot deny it.

I cannot have him. I shall not… he is… he does not seem willing to devote himself to just one lady. One wife. There is never a lack of gossip about the prince’s exploits in the Street of Silk, and a hundred other brothels besides.

His need cannot be sated it seems. I… surely, I will not be enough to sate it.

And I won’t allow myself to be one among many paramours.

If I am to love, I have to be chosen as the only one.

However…

Mother spare me.

However… I find myself imagining Daemon’s hands roaming freely across the planes of my skin, fondling my chest, his fingers drifting downward until they are buried in the heat of my soaked cunt.

When the castle is asleep, I find myself writhing in my sheets, thinking about the prince’s massive co – “

A knock echoes across the chambers. Daemon’s head shoots up immediately, irritation blooming across his face, but his cheeks remain flushed from what he just read.

Who the fuck is this?

His squire enters, a gangly young lad of six and ten. He bows hurriedly, and with a shaky voice, he implores, “My prince, you are being summoned by His Grace King Viserys to the small council meeting.”

Has that blasted formality come round again so soon? Daemon shrugs, turning back to the pages. Though he can hardly focus with the snivelling interruption still present in the room, who risks arousing his master’s anger when he speaks once more, “Forgive me, my prince, but I have been instructed to report with - ”

“Will you remove yourself from my sight willingly, or shall I do it for you?”

“M-my prince… I…” The squire nearly stumbles backwards at Daemon’s wroth.

“Leave. The small council will have the privilege of my presence in due course.”

And so, Daemon is again left alone, his squire’s rapid footsteps practically bolting out the doors.

Smirking, he greets your journal like an old friend. “Now, where was I?”

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Your newly gifted journal boasts of a far more opulent appearance than its predecessor. Rhaenyra made sure that the Maesters bound only the finest parchment and leather for this very thing; the cover even has gold and red embossments, as well as inscriptions in High Valyrian.

You were reluctant to accept such a gift, but Rhaenyra was persistent. And everyone knows, there is no refusing the Realm’s Delight when she has her heart set on something.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know of the whereabouts of your journal… well, your old journal now.

Nestled in your usual spot in the gardens, you turn your new journal over in your hands, admiring the handiwork of the Maesters.

The rear possesses the inscription - Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra, se isse ōños hen skoros pirtra hembar… - which Rhaenyra explained as roughly translating to - In remembrance of my rogue ink, and in joyous anticipation of what lies ahead…

You did not fail to notice the deliberate placement of the word rogue, which can only be Rhaenyra’s doing. Clever.

Rogue ink. Rogue Prince. Am I to call myself Lady Rogue now?

“My Lady.” His voice calls out, nearly startling the journal out of your hands. Oh fuck.

“Prince Daemon,” you swivel around to his voice, and sure enough, he leans against one of the tall hedges, studying you. Not a care in the seven kingdoms, as always.

“Good morrow, sweetling.” He saunters over, permanent smirk on his lips. “That is a lovely thing you have got there,” he says, gesturing to the new journal in your lap.

“Why yes, it is.” You lay it down beside you, and he promptly picks it up without even asking for your leave.

“Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra…” He reads, the High Valyrian sounding musical on his tongue. Far better than how you attempted to voice out the same words.

“Hmm.” He hands it over, and sits right next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Rogue ink.” He mumbles thoughtfully, glancing at you.

“It was Rhaenyra’s idea.” You say, your throat suddenly feeling dry, your heart racing from his proximity.

“Ah, yes. I was very sorry to hear of how you lost your journal. Rhaenyra said you were quite devastated.” Daemon lies plainly. His beloved niece never shared this with him, for she knows you would not approve.

“She did?”

“I do recall, yes.”

“Oh.”  You clear your throat, choosing to let it pass. “Well, she was awfully kind in giving me this as a replacement. I could not thank her enough.”

Daemon smiles, casting his gaze downward, as if he is privy to a secret that is kept from you. Does the handsome bastard know something?

“It is a shame that I could not find it,” you sigh, “I am still perturbed by the thought of someone whose intentions are unsavoury, reading all that I have written.”

“Whatever would you do to them, were you to find out their identity, my sweetling?”

You shake your head slightly at the name he has given you. Anything to distract from the warmth spreading across your face. You lean in closer, suddenly, much to Daemon’s surprise, “Would you let me wield Dark Sister, so I might teach them a lesson?”

Daemon swallows, the sight of your darkened, mischievous expression spurring him on.

“I might,” he leans in, “but I am far too fond of myself to allow something like that to transpire. Besides,” his fingers languidly trace your jawline, “I have read that you are far too fond of me to do such a thing.”

Your stomach falls, the sensation so sudden that you simply freeze in place, with Daemon’s warm breath still fanning your face.

“You…”

Your face scrunches in a mixture of what can only be shock and anger and embarrassment. Daemon only finds it endearing. Adorable.

He starts, “Now, sweetling, try not to be cross - ”

You do not let him finish. You punch him in the shoulder, hard, making him lean away. Your legs seem to have a mind of their own, because you find yourself pacing quickly.

Gods, I just assaulted a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. More pacing. Who cares? It’s Daemon, and he deserves it.

The sound of his laughter echoes in the gardens, grating in your ears.

He stands, pulling something out of the pocket of his trousers, and presenting it to you. Your little, rogue journal.

Wrenching it from him, you can only ask, “You stole it from me?”

He looks appalled, “No, I would not do that. I found it. It might occur to you to thank me. Who knows what could have happened if anyone else besides me discovered your precious journal when you dropped it in a haste.”

“Thank you?” You stare him down, your left hand squeezing your journal firmly, threatening to destroy its very structure. “Why did it take so long for you to return it to me? Did you… did you…”

“Read it?” His eyes rake your face, over and over, enamoured by the passion he sees.

You say nothing. Of course he has.

“You must forgive my curiosity, sweetling. I could not help myself, plainly, to have some glimpse into your mind, into your heart… I simply… I had to.”

You soften a little at that. “Did you read everything?”

Daemon steps forward, overwhelming your space once more, “Not everything. Not quite.”

He gently pries the journal from your fist tucked beside you, and you watch as he flits through the pages as if it were his own. He whispers, “Only what you wrote about me.”

“Gods.” You desperately look toward the sky for some respite, not finding any.

He lands on the page he was searching for, a smile spreading across his face. “I am flattered, my lady, about how you envisioned us in what can only be… very compromising positions.”

“Enough, Daemon, please…” you bite your lip, as his hands drift across your stomach, settling low on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The journal has been discarded by your feet, and Daemon only has eyes for you. His voice is genuine when he says, “You have written about me as if I were… someone else. Someone more.”

Your eyes catch how his tongue flicks across his lips. You start to give in, and say, “Daemon, I write only what I see.”

His lips are curled in their familiar roguish way, when he drifts even closer, tilting your face up at him with one hand.

“Daemon…”

“Sweetling… let me give you something to write about.”

In true Daemon fashion, he does not reign himself in. 

His lips land on yours. The impact catches you by surprise, making you take a few steps back, and he promptly follows suit. Your bodies move in sync, until your back collides into one of the marble plinths.

His tongue pries your mouth open wide, snaking past your teeth in a frenzy. Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hands, and guides them to the back of his neck, so that you might hold him in turn. You do, burying your fingers in his silver tresses.

Your lips battle each other, and Daemon tilts your head back so that he might advance more. A low growl escapes his chest as his teeth carefully clamp down on your bottom lip, pulling at the flesh.

He pulls away, pleased at how swollen your lips have become due to his work, “If I were inclined to write as you do, the words would doubtlessly be a tribute to you, sweetling.”

You did not expect that.

Still reeling from the taste of his mouth, you finally smile, though wryly, “You could only be telling me what I wish to hear. Soften my anger at how you invaded my most intimate musings.”

He nods once, one hand reaching up to lean on the plinth above your head. His violet eyes bore into yours, burning with unmistakable desire.

“I could indeed.” He kisses you again, his lips briefly pressing against your own, with a gentleness that is quite unusual for the Rogue Prince. “But mayhaps I shall prove to be quite convincing.”

You take a deep breath, peering up at him in a haze. Your shaky nerves finally settle, and you drink him in. Your rogue muse. The object of your affection, as he now knows. “Prove it then. My new journal is in need of fresh accountings. What better thing to write about than the taste of your lips…”

Another kiss, and another.

“I am yours, sweetling.”

Been a while, loves! Hectic stuff + writing ruts can tend to cause such breaks, but I'm glad to be back and writing again ❤️

Yes, it seems that I sometimes take weeks (even months) to update series works. But then I'll get oneshot ideas, and they get done within a day (like this one). I can't explain it either 🙃

But anyway - series updates up... soon enough!

[aemondsympathiser]

🏹 COMING SOON 🏹 Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader fic.

“I would love to-”

“Hear me now, Aemond. You are welcome to stay- to do as you please- but I want nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing.”

Premise: Aemond Targaryen grew up alongside many children of noble names, training and learning the ways of royalty. With age, Aemond's desire for exploration and glory led him on many an adventure. But, one particularly prominent- and sassy- Martell from his youth proves harder to get rid of.

Also known as the where Aemond can't decide if he hates or loves the girl from his youth, and she seems to feel the exact same.

Warnings: Female 3rd person, enemies to lovers, smut, action and violence, angst, romance, themes of danger, death, etc.

[ This is an alternate universe fic. There will be a mix of flashbacks and the present as we delve into the history and growth of the characters and the world they were raised in. Characters and places will be from ASOIAF with adjustments. ]

Part One: Coming Soon

[themotherofblood]

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

Breastfeeding and of course mommy/daddy kink

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

Masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One more riñītsos,” Rhaenyra kissed your cheek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come to you for tingles.” You mumbled.

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

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

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

[happilyhertale]

The Rogue Prince - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

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

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x poc!wife!reader

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

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

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daemon watches you, a grin on his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daemon gasps, "What are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daemon tries to concentrate on staying calm for your sake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wouldn't mind," you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

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

[hotreadingwitch]

Daemon x Reader - Eyes on Fire

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

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

Eyes on Fire 

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

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

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

“Princess” 

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

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

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

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

“And so what if I do?” 

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

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

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

Tension sparked between them. 

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She seemed hesitant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Play with yourself for me” 

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

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

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

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

“No” 

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

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

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

“Touch yourself” he commanded. 

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

“That’s it love, keep going for me” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop” 

Her fingers faltered but she kept going. 

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

With a whine, she stopped fighting him. 

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

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

“Yes, yes” she agreed pliantly. 

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

“Daemon…” her words were a broken sob.

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

“Please, Gods Daemon, please”

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

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

“Daemon” she moaned. 

“Cum, yes cum for me” 

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

“Fuckkk” she groaned, barely able to breathe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And when I am?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, you’re perfect” he groaned. 

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

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

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

[4veslil]

Oneshot | Talons and Thorns | Daemon Targaryen

A/N: This is an old one shot that I also have posted on Wattpad and Ao3. But, I thought I would also share it over here because why not, my work, my say. I hope you enjoy and I wish you Happy Halloween!

SUMMARY: (Female) Reader is the only unwed daughter of House Tyrell and catches Daemon's eye at her sister's wedding.

★ MASTER LIST HERE ★

WORD COUNT: 1,265

<95 AC>

The tourney was taking place in Highgarden, celebrating your younger sister's marriage to a vassal of your house. Marrying to House Florent, your father hoped, would dispel the tension born after Aegon the Conquer's victory.   

He said he could feel their vengeful eyes every time they looked upon him, unable to shake the notion of betrayal. A marriage ensured peace for however long it lasted, a peace he prayed would trickle down from King Jeahaerys I's reign. The realm had never been more stable than under the present Targaryen King. Your father said there was no better time to sheath the swords pointed at each other, not when unity came so easily. 

House Florent tried to reject the marriage offer, what could the youngest child offer? What did they gain but a loss in the eyes of the other vassals? But once Heinrich Florent and your sister set eyes upon each other, nothing could stop the marriage. 

You sat beside your sister, holding her hand delicately in your own, your excitement was as palpable as hers. The tourney had yet to start and despite her status, your father cherished you all. She was honoured just as the eldest would be. 

"Are you pleased?" You asked lowly, careful not to catch anyone's ears. 

Your sister, Aella, replied with a soft smile, "I fear too much" 

"There is nothing wrong with that" you chuckled. 

"What if I disappoint him?" 

You held her hand tighter, "I do not know a more beautiful and strong woman" 

"That is because you do not see yourself. Not as we do" 

"Perhaps one day someone... someone will acknowledge me for it" 

You were but the middle sister, with your oldest and youngest sisters, married it was finally your time. Your father wanted you all ready for the fate to come, and with two of three daughters wed, it was about time so should you be. 

"Of course they will sister, a tourney like this is perfect!", Lord Florent flickered his eye sideways, his wife's excitement a new expression. "Have you made a favour?" 

The favour sat on your lap, a ring of perfectly intertwined white roses with accents of leaves and berries. 

"It is not much" you quirked a smile. 

"It is better than mine would be. Remember at Elyn's wedding tourney? Mine was falling apart before you pieced it back together"

"We are all born for something" you sighed, only thinking that marriage was not for you. Never had you caught the eye of a Lord or any man for that matter. Already old enough to wed and no union had taken place. You would like to say you were made for more than marriage, but all that was done was done under the name of a man.

"You are born for greatness-" she held your hand tighter, "I just know it" 

"And what greatness would that be?" 

"Maybe he's riding right before you" 

And before you could acknowledge what she meant, a man approached you upon his horse. But this wasn't just any man. From under his helmet, you could already catch wisps of white hair escaping and purple eyes fixed upon you. It was none other than Prince Daemon.

"Would the lady do me the honour of giving her favour" he spoke in a regal, crisp voice. 

The perfect way to describe that moment was starstruck. In absolute awe that the Prince had approached you of all people. He had to request a favour from someone, you knew that for certain. But from you, it made your whole body buzz with anticipation. 

"Of course, my Prince" you smiled, the words finally leaving your lips. You could feel your sister's grinning and the proud look of your father. 

When you placed your ring of roses over the lance, you felt an armoured hand reach for your own. You were still beside yourself at how he held your fingers, gently pulling them to his lips. They were thin but soft, light as a feather's touch. You couldn't help but blush, the heat rising to your cheeks only widened the smirk adorning the Prince's face. 

"I believe this will bid me a victory, don't you, My Lady?" 

"May the strongest man win" You nodded in agreement. 

"Good I am not a man, I am a dragon" he seemed to tease, it only made you blush further. You came to find that was his intention. To see you turn such a red.

"May the dragon conquer then" you smiled teasingly. You would not say it took the Prince aback but there was a glimmer in his eyes. 

"As in my blood, My Lady"

-

Your sister sat with the groom, her smile wide and full of mirth. You could see her giggling and having the wedding of her dreams. She was happy and that's all you could hope for. 

"You love your family" Prince Daemon approached from behind, a cup of wine extended to you. 

"Hard to find someone who does not" you replied as you accepted the cup.

He stepped beside you and took the free chair at your right, settling in well enough. Like he belonged there. He was the Prince, everything he touched could belong to him. After all, dragons took what they wanted and never relented. 

"She is a beautiful woman but it seems to be you who outshines the bride" he smirked, and you blushed as you watched his lips curl at the flirtation. 

"I would have to disagree, My Prince" 

"You would disagree with a Prince?" 

"When it is proper to do so" you nodded as your fingers ran across the engravings decorating the gold cup. Secretly praying he would not notice your nervous disposition. 

"What is interesting about being proper" he japed, you could see why women fell at his feet. 

He was beautiful, the epitome of a Targaryen dragon rider. Prince Daemon was Confident, charming, and impulsive. He was everything that drove you mad with envy. 

"Nothing My Prince, if I am, to be honest" 

He then leaned in closer, you could feel his breath fan across your face, feel the minuscule space between his lips and your ear. 

"Then why don't we do something fun"

You huffed out a breath, "I suppose your degree of 'fun' is not the same as mine" 

"And how would we know that?", his words escaped him like a warm breeze upon your skin. So delicate and enticing- free. 

"I know not to give into my desires so heartily", 'as was expected of a Lady' you internally damned. 

"And my presence- your 'fun', would make you lose control? Perhaps that is something I want to witness" 

"Perhaps it is something to entertain you in the night before you bore in the morning" 

"So My Lady's claws do scratch, or are they thorns?"

"Thorns or claws, they'll surely ward off charming princes" Your eyes finally turned to your peripheral and there you captured his handsome face. It was disgustingly beautiful and held many secrets. You felt you could pluck them apart, like threads in a tapestry, unravelling those amethyst eyes. 

"You think me charming? Well, is my charm working?" 

You felt Daemon's hand land on your knee, his fingers massaging the joint through your dress. He surely was forward and all you could do was entertain his attempts at flattery. But, you supposed, it bore an opportunity- one you tested with ease. 

"Do you wish it to?" You prompted. 

"I wish to see you fall apart before me, drowning under it" 

He was too forward, perhaps never been told no in his life. You thought you could change that. It was practice, that's all it was. To pick him apart piece by piece. Power for a woman only trickled from the man into her desperate hands, but this was a chance, 'your' chance

"Do you like the chase, My Prince?"  

Daemon pulled back slightly, his eyebrows drawing together. It was a new expression that amused you. 

"I am accustomed to it" he drawled confidently. His supple lips then pulled apart to allow his tongue to run across them, begging to draw your eyes down but you knew better. He was a dragon, he commanded you to bend, but nature could never bow. Men and women alike were victims of its whims. How could a dragon be any different? 

"Then-" you stood, his hand left your body with a shiver, "May the chase begin. I hope you catch me soon Prince Daemon"

[sachaa-ff]

Daemon Targaryen x niece reader

During the weeding of your sister Rhaenyra and Leanor, Daemon decided it’s time to show everyone your his..

Request are open..

Under the Moonlit Sky

The halls of the Red Keep were alive with the sounds of celebration as Rhaenyra Targaryen wed Laenor Velaryon. Tapestries adorned the walls, and golden lights flickered like stars, but amidst the opulence, Daemon Targaryen felt a different kind of fire igniting within him—one fueled by his love for you, Rhaenyra’s younger sister.

You stood on the fringes of the festivities, your heart a mix of excitement and apprehension. Though you should have been celebrating your sister’s union, your thoughts were consumed by Daemon. His presence had always been magnetic, drawing you in with a charm that was impossible to resist. The night felt electric with unspoken emotions.

Across the grand hall, Daemon caught your eye. His gaze was intense, an unmistakable spark of desire lighting his features. With a swift, purposeful stride, he approached you, the chaos of the wedding fading into the background. “Come with me,” he said, his voice low and thrilling, sending shivers down your spine.

“Where are we going?” you asked, heart racing as anticipation coursed through you.

“I want everyone to see us.” He replied a wicked grin spreading across his face

Your pulse quickened at the thought of leaving the celebration, of stepping into the unknown with him. It was reckless, yet thrilling. “But Daemon, the wedding—”

“Let them have their wedding,” he interrupted, taking your hand and leading you through the dimly lit corridors. “Tonight is ours.”

As you slipped away from the crowded hall, you felt a rush of exhilaration.

The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries, the sounds of laughter and music ringing in your ears. Daemon’s grip on your hand was firm, leading you through the throngs of revelers. “This is where the real fun is,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

The crowd parted before you, drawn to the sight of Daemon, the infamous rogue prince, with his niece, the princess at his side. You felt the weight of their stares, both curious and judgmental, but in that moment, all you could see was him.

“Dance with me,” he urged, pulling you into the center of a lively gathering. The music swelled around you, and without hesitation, you surrendered to the moment. Daemon’s presence was intoxicating, and as you twirled beneath the stars, you felt the exhilaration of freedom.

The crowd watched, whispers rippling through the air as you lost yourself in the dance. Daemon spun you around, laughter bubbling up between you as he captured your waist, pulling you close. “Let them see,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “Let them talk.”

But amidst the joy, a flicker of apprehension coursed through you. You caught sight of King Viserys, your father across the way, his expression a mix of confusion and disapproval. The tension in your chest tightened as you realized the implications of Daemon’s boldness.

“Daemon, we can’t—” you began, but he silenced you with a kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath. The world around you faded, leaving only the heat of his body and the urgency of his touch.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes sparkled with triumph. “If the realm must know of our love, then so be it. We will not hide.”

As the night wore on, you danced, laughed, and reveled in the electric connection between you. But the reality of your situation loomed in the back of your mind. You were Rhaenyra’s sister, bound by duty, yet Daemon’s presence ignited a wildness in you that longed to be unleashed.

With each twirl and every laugh, you felt the weight of your desires push against the constraints of propriety. Daemon was a tempest, and you found yourself swept away, caught in the storm of his passion.

As the revelry continued, Daemon suddenly stopped, pulling you aside into a quieter corner of the hall, illuminated only by flickering torches. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his tone serious yet tender.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart racing at his intensity.

“Then let’s make a statement,” he said, determination glinting in his eyes. “We will not be ignored.”

Before you could fully grasp his intent, he pulled you closer, brushing his lips against your temple. “I want everyone to know that you are mine.”

With that, he stepped back into the fray, pulling you along with him as he raised your intertwined hands into the air. The crowd turned to watch, surprise etched on their faces. Daemon’s voice rang out above the music, filled with confidence. “Tonight, I declare my love for this woman! The sister of the future queen! And my dear and loving princess”

Gasps erupted, and your heart raced. The onlookers exchanged bewildered glances, whispers swirling like leaves caught in a windstorm. King Viserys’s face tightened, a mix of shock and anger flashing in his eyes.

“Daemon!” you hissed, panic bubbling up inside you. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure they understand,” he said, unabashed. “You deserve to be recognized.”

“Enough!” Viserys’s voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. He strode toward you, concern and frustration painted on his face. “What is the meaning of this?”

Daemon faced him, unwavering. “Your Grace, I love her. She deserves a place beside me, not hidden in the shadows.”

The tension between the three of you crackled in the air. You stood beside Daemon, caught between loyalty to your family and the wild love you felt for him. “This isn’t the time, Daemon,” you urged quietly, your heart pounding.

“I won’t let you cast her aside,” Daemon declared, his voice steady. “If you refuse to acknowledge our bond, then I will make it impossible for you to ignore.”

Viserys’s eyes narrowed, weighing the implications of Daemon’s words. “You cannot simply declare this,” he warned, the authority in his voice attempting to reassert control. “You risk everything—”

“Everything is already at stake,” Daemon interrupted, his gaze fierce. “I will fight for what is mine.”

With the crowd watching, a hush fell over the street, the tension palpable. You could see the realization dawning on Viserys’s face, the weight of the situation sinking in. This was not just a declaration; it was a challenge to the very order of their family.

“Are you willing to marry her, Daemon?” Viserys asked, his voice low and measured, as if he were trying to calculate the fallout.

“I am,” Daemon responded without hesitation. “If that is what it takes for her to be by my side, I will marry her before the sun rises.”

The crowd erupted in murmurs, shock and excitement mingling in the air. You felt your heart race at the implications of his words. This was a path laden with uncertainty, but the thought of being with Daemon ignited a fierce determination within you.

“Daemon, you can’t—” you began, but he turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and resolve.

“No more hiding, my love,” he said softly. “You are meant to be with me. We can face whatever comes together.”

The realization washed over you like a wave. This was not just about you and Daemon; it was about forging a new path, challenging the norms of your world, and embracing the love that had been kept hidden for far too long.

As the celebration continued around you, you felt a sense of exhilaration. You were part of something larger, a movement that could reshape the future of House Targaryen. The night felt charged with possibility, the air thick with unspoken dreams.

As the revelry persisted and the crowd began to dance once more, you leaned in closer to Daemon, your heart pounding. “Whatever happens, I am with you.”

“Always,” he promised, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “We will rewrite our story.”

With that vow echoing in your heart, you stepped back into the celebration, hand in hand with Daemon Targaryen, ready to face whatever challenges awaited you. Under the moonlit sky, surrounded by the energy of the city, you knew that together you would forge a new destiny—one filled with love, passion, and the courage to defy tradition.

[shuichiakainx]

Matty ♥️