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ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 | 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄.

❝ if loving you is a sin, then i will spend the rest of my life atoning. ❞

𝘈𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘙𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘙𝘰𝘺𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯. 𝘐𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴' 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴.

⊹ fandom house of the dragon

⊹ pairing aemond targaryen x oc!targaryen

⊹ tags angst, fluff, smut, lovers to enemies to lovers while being enemies, slow burn, dad!daemon, focuses a lot on the gaps between the time skips, found family vibes), love triangle with oc!stark

⊹ uploaded on wattpad

⊹ warnings toxic relationships, possessiveness, typical ASOIAF warnings: sexual themes, explicit language, violence

𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦

𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 "the only words i said to her more often than professions of love were begs for her forgiveness"

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 "they put all their dreams in me but my own"

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒏 "if you loved me, why did you lie"

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 "dreams didn't make us kings. dragons did"

𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 | 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 "if history only remembers me as the man who loved you, then i have lived a good life"

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖼 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 (𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾) 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽!

𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗅𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 "𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋" 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗒𝖾𝗇.

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

Can I request Daemon letting the reader ride him while she wears his jousting helmet?

You In My Helm. // Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Daemon catches you trying on his helm, and fucks you while you wear it. Pairing: Daemon x Reader. Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, reader wears his helmet, riding, daemon FTW, female reader.

You had always been interested in Daemon’s helmet, whenever you saw him in it, the familiar feeling of arousal rose in your belly. Perhaps it was how intimidating he looked in it, you didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

Returning to your shared chambers after a long day of your duties, you notice his helm sitting on his desk. Curious, your hands run over the cool steel, and the soft hair that made the helm his.

Seeing as you were all alone, you thought it okay to slip it over your head, situating it so it was comfortable. Making your way to the mirror, you looked at yourself, biting at your lip, and a similar feeling rose in your belly. Hand drifting down to the crotch of your dress, where you whimper at the slightest of pleasure, unaware of the looming presence peaking through the door.

“My love,” Daemons teasing voice echoed through the chamber as he made himself known. You quickly made it look normal, but he wasn’t convinced.

“You look ravishing in my helmet,” He begins, walking over to you. Daemons hands run over your sides, tracing the curves of your body with gentle, feather-like touches that made you shiver.

“Please.” You whispered, and he let out a small laugh.

“Please, what?” Daemon says, his voice mocking.

“Please fuck me, Daem,” You respond, eyebrows furrowed. Daemon doesn’t hesitate, sliding off his belt and slipping out of his top. “You’re going to keep the helmet on, and ride me.” He demands, laying on the bed, and you know the drill.

Your shaking hands go to shed him of his pants, and his undergarments, along with yours.  You kept your dress on as you straddled his lap, grinding your hips against his as you kiss him passionately on the lips.

His wet cock slips through your folds as you grind, and you whimper as he comes in contact with your clit.

“Put me in,” Daemon commands again, and you abide.

You adjust him and slide onto his length, with a long, satisfied moan.

To shock you, he thrusts his hips upward and you let out a squeal of pleasure. “Fuck!” Your shaky voice comes out.

“Move, love.” Daemon grunts and you begin desperately moving up and down, small noises of pleasure rolling from your tongue.

“Look at you, my beautiful girl, fucking herself on my cock.” He says, hands gripping your hips to make your movements more intense. “You like using me for your pleasure, huh, girl?” Daemon speaks again.

“Yes! Oh, fuck yes.” You loudly exclaim, your pace quickening. He’s satisfied with this, moving his hand down to rub at your bundle of nerves, your head throwing back as you come down harder. 

Daemons hips meet yours as you thrust together, explicit noises of your wetness fill the room, and the repetitive slapping of your sweaty bodies together.

His other hand moves from your hip, and wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you down in a heated kiss.

He smirks as you moan loudly into his mouth with each thrust, the helmet is slightly uncomfortable for the both of you, but that is the last concern, melting into him as he fucks you from beneath. The coil in your stomach builds up and up, and Daemon can tell you are close with how desperately you grind on his hand and cock.

You bite down on his shoulder as you come, your head spinning as pleasure spreads through every nerve in your body, and soon after his pace becomes erratic and sloppy, shooting his cum deep inside you with a relieved sigh as he milks your walls.

“Seeing you in my helmet, well played.” He laughs, pulling you from his lap to his side, taking the helmet off and putting the covers over the two of you.

MASTERLIST

hey, i’m sav. i write for the asoiaf universe.

be wary, most of these are smut! i write for...

aemond

aegon

daemon

helaena

rhaenyra

alicent

Aemond Targaryen

One bed?

there is only one bed, and three of them.

Withheld Desire

aemond x best friend reader bang at a party

I’ve got my eye on you

Aegon drags reader to a party and she catches Aemonds eye.

That girl

aemond and aegon meet their childhood friend for the first time in a while, and she’s grown.

Knight in shining armour

aemond catches reader when she falls.

Wicked Game

aemond has an infatuation with aegons wife, and she returns his affections.

Forget Honor | 2 |

aegon and aemond both forget their honour when it comes to their girl.

Sweet Thing | 2 |

aemond delves into his deepest desire, to be needed, thus, he find a sugar baby.

Compensation

Your husbands brother takes over.

Aegon Targaryen

Fantasies

jace doesn’t meet readers needs, but Aegon does.

Caught

reader knew aegon was risky, but not this risky.

One bed

there is only one bed, and three of them.

That girl

aemond and aegon meet their childhood friend for the first time in a while, and she’s grown.

Best Friends Brother

in which aegon teaches innocent Helaenas best friend how to kiss.

Forget Honor | 2 |

aegon and aemond both forget their honour when it comes to their girl.

Daemon Targaryen

You in my helm

daemon sure does love seeing the reader in his helm.