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flowerandblood · 7 months

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The Evening Star (1/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]

[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ] Part 2: The Moonlight Ray

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

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He never understood his brother, hurling his lightning bolts from the heavens at defenceless people in a rage − he did not understand his volatility, he did not understand his irrepressible desire, his unlimited emotionality.

He did not understand how he could desire and feel so many things at once, having his sister-wife haunt and take other goddesses, nymphs, or even human women, begetting bastards on earth and in the heavens.

He did not understand him, for he was emptiness, abyss, coldness, the opposite of his impulsiveness, his eternal volatility − he was like stone, like white marble, soul as well as body.

The only desire he had ever known in his life was the desire for power, and for this his brother deprived him of one eye before casting him into a dark abyss where not even the light of the stars could reach.

Although he was a god, his brother's blow could not be undone and he was forever disfigured, the dark hole in his face filled with a precious stone, sapphire, shining with a disturbing blue light.

Accustomed to the darkness of Hades, he could no longer bear the intense light of the sun and rarely appeared on Olympus itself; he would wander through his dark caverns in his long, black matted robe and gaze at the river Styx, at its pale light and the contorted terrified faces of the souls who swam in it.

When word reached him that his brother had mated with their other sister, the goddess of the field crops, and that she had bore him a daughter, he was neither surprised nor interested − he did not come to celebrate her birth on Olympus or congratulate his brother.

His brother had often suggested to him that he should take a wife, that he should not be alone in the darkness of the underworld.

He, however, felt no such need.

Even his sister, known as the Goddess of Love and Desire, was unable to seduce him.

She touched his naked body with her soft lips and hands, but he felt nothing but embarrassment.

He left Hades only once a year, when his favourite constellation emerged in the sky − He would then stroll through the old, dense forest looking up at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the rustle of the leaves.

When this time of year came, when he left his caves and looked up, he felt contentment at the sight of the twinkling dots in the sky, the pleasant night breeze enveloping his cold body.

He strolled slowly and aimlessly, looking upwards, all around him only the quiet rustling of his robes and the sound of dew-wet grass lingering beneath his feet.

He froze as he heard someone's footsteps break a twig not far from him, he knew he was not alone and he was furious.

He thought that whoever this mortal was, he would flow right down his river of the dead.

He tilted his head to the side and saw a pale figure illuminated only by shy starlight, her body pressed against the trunk of a tree as if she wanted to take refuge in it, her face expressing helpless anxiety.

Her eyes were big, warm and as dark as his robe, her hair long, partly loose, partly decorated with rich braids encircling her head, small blue flowers woven into her hair.

Her full, moist, fleshy lips were parted slightly in an accelerated breath, her breasts which he could see perfectly through the thin, transparent material of her robe were rising and falling restlessly, her skin glistening like moonlight.

He stared at her, unable to move or make a sound, unsure if he had ever seen a being so infinitely beautiful in his life, luminous as the stars above his head.

He swallowed loudly when he saw that she had taken a step back to retreat, to escape.

"Is it the beautiful Evening Star herself who has left the sky to enchant me with her company?" He asked lowly, impassively, his voice though assured and direct trembled, betraying his desperation.

She stopped in mid-motion and looked at him again, surprised and embarrassed at the same time by his words − it seemed to him that he saw perfectly well how her cheeks flushed, giving her skin a rose tint.

She pressed her lips together watching him carefully, lifting her chin slightly as if probing him closely from afar, assessing whether he was a threat to her, whether he would hurt her.

He was unable to take his eyes off her.

"I will tell you who I am only if you tell me who you are." She whispered in a trembling, gentle tone.

A smirk appeared on his face at the thought that maybe she was a nymph who had ventured too far from her friends, and that she was at his mercy now.

He hummed under his breath and moved ahead, putting his hands behind his back, looking under his feet, moving unhurriedly towards her.

"They call me many names." He said with mischievous amusement, throwing her a piercing, disturbing look from which she shuddered all over, taking a step back again.

"My river, though water is a life-giving gift, brings death." He whispered once he was a few steps away from her, wanting her to solve the riddle herself, to exert herself.

She swallowed loudly, her eyes widening suddenly, as if she had just realised something.

"− uncle −" She whispered, and he froze, stopping in mid-step; for the first time in the thousands of years he had walked the world he felt his own heart pounding hard.

He looked at her in disbelief, and it was only at close that he saw that she did indeed have something of his brother and sister in her, though it was her she resembled more − he felt himself grow even paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

She, however, seemed not frightened about who he was, her face took on an expression full of contentment and warmth. She moved closer to him and now it was he who took a step back feeling a strange heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood throbbed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of the outline of her soft breasts.

"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was staring at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.

He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never desire him.

He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she tentatively placed her soft hand on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.

He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.

"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry − he couldn't tear his eyes from her face, from her warm gaze.

He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.

"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands clenching on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.

For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked − she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.

It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.

He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.

The marriage required the oaths from both of them, but this did not prevent him from acknowledging her as his wife even though she refused to speak the words.

Even though he had given her his most beautiful chamber, on whose ceiling precious minerals shimmered like stars, in which streams of water hummed, in which she could lie on a great, soft bed, she did not want to see him.

He was not his brother.

He had no intention of taking her against her will.

It was enough for him that he could look at her every day.

Only him.

He bestowed new gifts on her every day, but she still cried.

He gave her a beautiful long gown of dark, translucent material embroidered with stones in which the warm light of the sun was encased after she said she longed to see it, but she didn't even look at it.

The blue flowers in her hair withered as did the warmth in her eyes − she was slowly becoming as pale as he was and was constantly shivering from the cold.

She would not let him embrace or touch her; she covered herself with the thick furs he had given her and turned away from him.

Occasionally something would awaken in her − she would then run up to him when he visited her and beg him to let her leave to see her mother.

"I promise you that I will come back and that I will be your wife. Please, let me see the sunshine and the fresh grass one last time." She begged, touching tenderly his cold cheek with her fingers, almost as if she loved him, and he almost gave in to her every time.

"I can't, Persephone." He replied coolly, feeling some kind of pain seeing the despair on her face, hearing her helpless sobbs again, her small hands clenched on his robe, her cheek hugged to his chest.

"My name is Kora." She mumbled with difficulty, as if enraged. He hummed at her words, lifting slowly his large, cold hand, taking unruly strands of her hair from her face, all red from crying.

"Persephone, this name, is my gift to you. For my sweet wife." He whispered, and she trembled, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.

"− please −" She babbled as he embraced her uncertainly and stroked her hair, relishing its soft texture, letting her draw on this substitute of comfort.

He walked with her through the interiors of Hades, wanting to show her that besides death, there was also beauty in the underworld − underground streams and lakes with crystal clear water, his three-headed, beloved Cerberus, who in his presence turned from a monstrous beast into a gentle, docile animal.

Sometimes it seemed to him that a smile adorned her face for a moment, but then the sadness came over her again − she shuddered with cold and fear hearing the wailing of souls floating in the Styx, she glanced nervously in that direction, swallowing loudly.

"Are they suffering a lot? Can they be helped?" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, walking beside her with his arms folded behind his back.

"They are paying for what they have done in their lifetime. Their merits and transgressions have been weighed by Temida, who has issued a judgment on them. There is nothing I can do." He admitted with a glance at her, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her at last, and she lifted her large, frightened eyes to him, her lips parted but no sound came from her throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling a sting in his chest.

He asked her if she was afraid of him after he had kidnapped her and held her against her will.

What did he expect?

The wrath of his brother and sister was quickly getting to him − her mother distraught at her disappearance had fallen into a state of utter agony, people were being starved to death by the land's failure to yield crops, there were more souls flowing in the Styx than he had ever seen in his centuries-long life.

He felt a kind of satisfaction when his brother descended into the underworld for the first time since time immemorial; he hated to think about dying and passing, and could not grasp the meaning of such a short life, knowing only the meaning of infinity himself.

He came out to meet him sitting proudly on his black marble throne, thousands of skulls at his feet.

For the first time he looked down on his brother, a gigantic cave all around them, Styx surrounding them on all sides except a small bridge.

"Brother. I warn you for the last time. If you don't give me my daughter..."

"Then what? I should take a wife at last – those are your words, aren't they?" He asked with a sneer, sitting stretched out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to see her." He demanded, and his lips tightened at his words. "Or I'll take her away from you myself and you'll never see her again."

"I poured water from my river into the honey she drank. Like any soul who has already bound herself to the underworld, she will not leave Hades without my permission." He said calmly, and his brother's face flushed red, his angry low voice echoing around him so that the ground shook around them.

"I WANT TO SEE HER!"

He hummed under his breath and nodded to his servant to bring her in.

His wife came out of her chamber a moment later − when she saw her father she immediately beamed, ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

He looked at them coolly, feeling his heart pounding fast, his stomach twisting with rage.

"My sweet daughter. Did he hurt you?" He asked as if the welfare of any woman mattered to him, as if he hadn't raped an endless number of innocent girls, forgetting them quickly because they were dying in what seemed to him to be just the blink of an eye.

He swallowed loudly when his Persephone shook her head, tightening her lips, lowering her head.

"He's good to me." She whispered and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain he had never known before.

His brother looked at him accusingly, trying to contain his aggressive, abrupt nature.

"People are suffering hunger because of you. Her mother has gone mad with despair, the flowers are not blooming, the grains are not yielding. Let them be together at least a few months of the year and I will recognise your marriage in the eyes of Olympus." He suggested, and he furrowed his brow.

"No." He hissed coldly, his gaze icy, piercing, furious, his hand clenched into a fist. "She is my wife. A wife's place is with her husband."

His brother moved in fury, wanting to lash out at him, the ground shook around them again, but his daughter's hand stopped him.

"Let us speak alone, father." She said softly; his brother backed away, panting heavily, his jaw clenched tight.

He hummed under his breath when he saw his wife move towards him, climbing the black, cold stone steps to finally stand before him − his brother snorted and turned, walking away, furious.

He looked up at his Persephone massaging his chin, delighted to see the outline of her body shapes beneath her thin white robe.

He shuddered and swallowed loudly, shocked as she sat on his lap, his manhood throbbed suddenly feeling her body so close, her fresh scent like a cool morning breeze.

"− husband −" She whispered with a soft click of her pink tongue, her hips innocently rubbing against his hardness, his body shivered at the sound of that word.

She had never called him that before.

She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips so gently, tenderly, slow strokes of her hips teasing him so innocently, that he parted his lips, breathing with increasing difficulty, his palms tightening on his cold stone armrests.

He could feel his length pulsing and swelling with every motion she made, he didn't understand what was happening to him.

He didn't stop her when she reached up to tie of his matte black robe, he drew in a loud breath and closed his eyelids when her delicate hand tentatively touched what was underneath.

"I am yours. I will give myself to you of my own free will." She whispered in a sweet, warm, trembling voice, her gaze misty, her lips full, swollen, red from emotion.

A quiet, low groan broke from his throat as he felt her hand direct the fat head of his manhood between her thighs with a gentle movement, he could see through the translucent material as she slowly began to sink him into her body.

He tilted his head back with quiet moan, licking his lower lip, feeling her hot, fleshy insides squeeze him wonderfully from all sides − she was surprisingly moist and warm, her core throbbing with arousal.

He felt her put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto him with a loud, sweet gasp, her plump lips parted wide.

His hands involuntarily gripped her hips as she began to move, rising and falling against his length so painfully slowly that he had to close his eyelids shut, panting louder and louder along with her.

"– gods –" He exhaled with difficulty as she accelerated, the loud, sticky slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the dark cavern, his manhood throbbing and twitching inside her, all hard and swollen with pleasure.

Involuntarily, his cold fingers clenched on the hot skin of her hips − he rooted his manhood into her tight, moist insides with his desperate, pathetic thrusts, her sticky moisture dripping down her thighs.

"– for our marriage to be valid you must fill me with yourself, my husband –" She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, droplets of sweat glistening on her body like little diamonds, her sweet moans of pleasure, her slick walls sucking him inside made him loose his temper.

He gasped weakly at her words, he had never felt a woman's insides before, had never desired anyone before her.

He felt like his manhood was going to explode with desire and lust, his thrusts became faster and more brutal, her soft breasts bouncing in front of his face − he lifted his hand and squeezed it tentatively, a soft mewl of delight erupted from her throat.

"– Persephone –" He breathed out pleadingly, imploringly, and then she kissed him, her hot, swollen, moist lips clinging to his, cold, dead, the tips of their tongues licking each other.

"– please –" She mewled although he didn't know what she was actually asking him, and then he heard her cry loudly, as if surprised, her hot insides clenching against him greedily, her tongue deep in his throat.

He felt with each thrust of his hips that he was getting closer and closer to something he'd never experienced before in his life.

Fulfilment.

The wave of heat and pleasure, his seed that spilled inside her surprised him so much that his voice stuck in his throat, and then again and again a low, helpless groan broke from his mouth − both of them were panting as they looked at each other with their lips open wide, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hips.

"I'm yours." She whispered softly, sweetly − he was looking at her feeling only peace, only love. "I am only yours, so please, let me see her."

He felt the heat in his heart replaced by coldness, his brow furrowed in a sense of anger, of pain, of betrayal.

"No." He hissed, wanting to lift her up, but she shook her head, cupping his face in her warm, soft hands.

"I will never truly be your wife if you won't trust me. If I don't come back to you of my own free will." She said helplessly, pain, fear and suffering in her eyes again, his lips tightened into a thin line at her words.

"Nine months with my mother so I can enjoy the sun, and then three here, just with you, every night, every day, I swear." She whispered tenderly pressing her face against his cheek, her scent overpowering and stupefying him, her warm insides still pleasantly enveloping his already soft manhood.

He swallowed loudly at her words, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her thighs.

"You're lying. You will never come back to me." He hissed and groaned low when he felt her hips begin to move up and down again with a loud click of her wetness and his spend, his manhood pulsed involuntarily with pleasure, betraying him.

"I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

As much as she wanted him to lead her away, he didn't want to watch her disappear beyond the borders of Hades never to return.

He didn't want to watch her run merrily towards the light, thanking the gods for his weakness and naivety, for how every woman in history had been able to exploit a man's desires.

He did not want her to see his expression, his suffering and all the other feelings he did not want to feel.

The day after she left, he went to her chamber and lay in her bedding, sinking his nose into her scent.

He found, with regret and pain, that with each passing month her scent grew fainter and fainter, her silhouette in his mind becoming more and more blurred, as if he had never really met her.

He touched himself thinking about her, experiencing both wonderful and painful fulfilment with the knowledge that he would never feel her again.

He preferred to explain to himself that it was just a dream.

That he had never met her.

He knew she would not return.

She would not return to her captor, to the man who had kept her in a dark underworld for months, deaf to her pleas and sobs, a man who was crippled, who was cold, frightening and empty.

Despite this, despite knowing it, when the day came he could think of nothing else − he watched as the sand shifted in the great hourglass constructed of bone and glass as he lay in his chamber, drinking wine, feeling like a demented madman, listening for her footsteps amidst the groans of the dead.

She did not come.

He stared at the empty hourglass, which turned and the sand began to shift again, counting down the time of the new day; he wondered how he could have been so naïve to wait.

For the first time in ages he felt an embarrassing, burning wetness under his eyelids − proof that he really loved her.

He shuddered when he heard the quiet rustling of robes − he glanced sideways and saw her standing in the doorway of his dark chamber, in her hair beautiful small yellow flowers, her face bright and warm.

She wore the gown he had given her, black, decorated with sun rays stones.

"My mother kept me. She couldn't let me go." She whispered, and he felt his throat tighten, his body freeze, unable to make a sound or make any movement.

He breathed hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his lower lip and hands trembling involuntarily as she approached him slowly, as her hands untied the bindings of his robe with a light, easy motion, revealing what was underneath, how much he wanted her, how much he waited for her.

"I have been counting down the days when I will see your face again." She whispered, running her fingers over his scarred cheek, sitting on top of him, gently taking his hard length in her palm, lowering herself onto the fat head of his cock as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her, but instead a surprised, throaty groan of pleasure burst from his mouth − he tilted his head back, panting loudly, his hips involuntarily beginning to root his manhood into her fleshy, moist insides, her hands clenched on his shoulders.

"– fuck –" He gasped out looking at her with his lips parted, synchronising his thrusts with the rhythm of her body − he swallowed loudly as she slid the material of her robe off her shoulders, exposing her soft, plump breasts to him.

"– touch me, husband –" She cooed, and he lifted himself, immediately pressed his lips to her breast, sucking on it greedily, licking and teasing her nipple with his tongue, all hard with desire.

She sank her fingers into his long white hair and pressed his face against her chest, rising and falling on top of him with a loud click of her moisture, moaning so sweetly and loudly that he felt like his manhood was about to explode.

"– were you touching yourself? – did you touch yourself when you weren't with your husband? –" He hissed out in a trembling voice between flicks of his tongue, she kissed his hair in an attempt to soften his question and her answer.

"– forgive me, husband – forgive me, I've missed you so terribly –" She mumbled helplessly as he ran his fingers down her hips, twisting with her so that she fell on her back.

He gripped her thighs in his hands, looking down at her − her face all red with exertion, her hair scattered in disarray around her head, her body all bare before him, hot, beautiful, his.

"– I think I should remind you to who this body belongs to –" He growled, ending his sentence with a deep, brutal thrust, a loud, surprised moan escaping from her throat.

"– you are mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– repeat –"

"– I – I'm yours – I'm yours, forgive me, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty and drew in the air loudly as he spread her thighs shamelessly in front of him, looking down at the place where their bodies joined, her entrance clenching against him steadily, leaking with her wetness.

"– I forgive you, sweet wife –" He gasped, recognising this act of grace as an expression of his love and gratitude that she had not betrayed him, that she had returned, that he held her in his arms again.

"– I'll fill you with my seed and it'll be just as it should be –" He exhaled as he watched the perverse sight of their bodies slamming against each other with a loud slaps, his thrusts deep and sure, each time opening her wide on his thick, swollen cock.

He couldn't believe that she had come back to him, that he could smell her wonderful, floral scent again, that she was allowing him to possess her of her own free will.

Her fingers grasped his hand and sank it between her thighs − he felt her direct him to the small bud between her soft folds, she moaned when he touched her there.

"– here, husband – please –" She mewled and moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he began to rub her there, simultaneously caressing her inside and out, her core beginning to pulse greedily against him.

"– gods – stop clenching –" He exhaled with difficulty, rooting into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her fleshy walls apart with the sticky click of her moisture.

He felt that if he went on like this he would simply come inside her, when he wanted to torment her, to prolong the moment of this immense pleasure and encounter after so many months.

"– I can't – I can't –" She sobbed loudly and he saw her fulfilment in all its glory, her hot, soft flesh went through convulsions, greedily sucking him inside, her lips parted wide in pleasure, her gaze misty and warm.

He cursed loudly, coming inside her so painfully hard that he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, rooting into her for a moment longer, the relief and delight that surged through his body was indescribable.

He looked at her beautiful face, her hands on either side of her head, her expression nothing but fulfilment and peace, her breathing uneven and ragged, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

She looked up at him after a moment and smiled sleepily, raising her hand slowly − her soft fingertips ran over his scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, feeling pleasant, hot squeeze in his heart.

"What is my wife's name?" He asked in a whisper, kissing her warm, small hand, smelling of fresh grass and flowers. He heard her sigh sweetly at his question, her fingers sliding lower, running over his cold lips.

"Persephone."

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Aemond Taglist

@dc-marvel-girl96 @its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @verena-targaryen-writes @talesofoldandnew @happinessinthebeing @travelingmypassion

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holyshitts · 6 days

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RHAENYRA TARGARYEN

“The singers dubbed her the Realm’s Delight, for she was bright and precocious—a beautiful child who was already a dragonrider at the age of seven as she flew on the back of her she-dragon Syrax, named for one of the old gods of Valyria.”

#rhaenyra targaryen #aesthetic #house targaryen #moodboard #house of the dragon #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #mine*#rhaenyra targaryen aesthetic

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nanstgeorge · 3 months

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All they have sowed, now shall they reap.

#alicent hightower #alicenthightoweredit #house of the dragon #fire and blood #litedit #my edits*#team green #pro alicent hightower #book moodboard #hotd #alicenthightowerdaily

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sunfyre-targaryen · 2 months

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Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower

King Aegon II Targaryen

Queen Helaena Targaryen

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen

Prince Daeron Targaryen

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #house targaryen #king aegon #asoif/got #dance of the dragons #team green #helaena the dreamer #aemond targayen #asoiaf #moodboard

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: okay so we all know Daemon wouldn’t be a great partner, but this is Tumblr and we take characters and form them into something ... other than what the author created them as. So here is a healthier version of Daemon Targaryen

Warnings; mentions of blood, violence, etc

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

ESTP

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral/Evil

Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Gemini Rising

SFW🌿

⭑ Daemon knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he loves doing so.

“Are you not listening on purpose Daemon? Gods! Some days I could wring your neck.”

“I love you too, darling.”

⭑ He loves when you braid his hair; and massage his scalp during the progress. He’ll audibly groan when your fingers dig into his scalp.

⭑ Loves seeing you in his clothes

⭑ He’s so incredibly protective over you and no one dares hurt THE Daemon Targaryen’s wife. If anyone tries, then they WILL die. It’s happened a few times actually. To go to the Targaryen’s, enemies would target you. But they had never landed their blows.

⭑ You’re a tough woman, who doesn’t take crap from anyone. That got you into trouble with a lot of people at court, and you were hated by many people.

⭑ You didn’t care though - why would you listen to the opinions of sheep?

⭑ And you aren’t scared of darkness within others. You yourself have some (don’t we all?)

⭑ Daemon loves this about you - nothing shocks you. And he remembers the first time he fell in love with you; when he could tell you everything about himself and you didn’t flinch.

⭑ Many would think he’s the dominant one in the relationship, but it’s you. It’s all you.

⭑ You’re absolutely in love with dragons (I mean who isn’t) but you have such an admiration for them, that they were your fixation for most of your childhood. You’ve read everything you can about them, about the Targaryen history and how dragons came to be

⭑ Daemon loves that he has someone to tell everything to. You know many family secrets about the Targaryens (that always stay within the blood-related family)

⭑ You aren’t a Targaryen though. Probably a Baratheon, Hightower, or Lannister noblewoman who was sent to court.

⭑ Daemon is actually really good at cuddling and likes it best when you’re on top of him - your head on his chest. He’ll mindlessly twirl your hair between his fingers, talking to you until you fall asleep.

⭑ Your wedding was huge. And I mean absolutely - because Viserys was so happy that Daemon’s focus was on you. It felt like a relief that Daemon was marrying for love.

⭑ Daemon buys you everything you desire - no expense spared. Literally, he’s gotten into trouble by Otto Hightower with how much he’s spending on you.

⭑ I do think you have a good heart though, so a lot of the things he buys for you, you give to people who actually need it.

⭑ Rhaenyra likes you a lot. You’re someone she looks up to - someone who has already broke tradition by being a bold woman. Who says what she thinks and damns the consequences.

⭑ Viserys would hold some reservations (that were planted by Otto) about Daemon’s legitimacy with the succession. He would have a bigger claim if you bore children.

⭑ But ultimately it would be up to you. Do you want kids? Okay, Daemon will work day and night to fill your belly. You don’t want kids? Fuck kids then. We have dragons and each other, that’s all we need.

⭑ I think he would calm down in the sense that he wouldn’t be so brutal towards others. You’re someone who gives him confidence - he doesn’t need to prove himself. So when he needs help, he will take it.

⭑ People are nervous around Daemon when you’re not there - he’s much more well-mannered and pleasant in your presence.

⭑ He smells like smoke, basil and frankincense.

⭑ Calls you ‘My darling,’ ‘Love,’ ‘Pet.’

Relationship Tropes:

Villain/Badass Power Couple

Monster in Disguise (you; I mean c’mon you can let loose) x Incredibly Protective of You

Asshole to absolutely everyone except their significant other x Knows their s/o wouldn’t dare be rude to them because they’ll catch these hands

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ Daemon definitely has a breeding kink, and the thought of you heavily pregnant with his child turns him on to no end

⭑ Is definitely into really kinky sex. He loves having hot wax dripped on him as part of foreplay.

⭑ He loves blood-play. And when you’re on your period he asks you to ride his face.

⭑ Hickies absolutely EVERYWHERE; Daemon’s favourite pass time when you’re alone is marking you.

⭑ You love teasing him while in public - your dress slipping, showing your thigh/bending down in front of him to pick something up/’accidentally’ rubbing up against him while in other company

⭑ His favourite position is doggy; he loves when you’re on all fours, your ass in the air.

⭑ Oh and he most definitely eats ass.

⭑ I think Daemon would be up for anything. Nothing disturbs/grosses him.

⭑ His favourite place to cum is either inside you or in your mouth/on your face.

⭑ When you’re just about to cum, he’ll pull out and wait for your high-pitched whine.

“Daemon! Please!”

⭑ Very rough kisses

⭑ He loves biting your ear lobe while he’s deep inside of you

⭑ Your smell drives him insane - like an immediate aphrodisiac

⭑ He loves dirty talk and is absolutely shameless about it.

“Do you like me fucking you like a common whore?”

⭑ He’s more dominant in the bedroom ... because you allow him to be.

⭑ There’s always a hot bath waiting when you’ve finished having sex. You’ll both climb in, and bathe the other.

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bugshideaway · 8 months

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｡⁠.ﾟ the green queen ⊰⁠⊹ฺ

｡⁠.ﾟ alicent hightower ⊰⁠⊹ฺ.

by: bugshideaway

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justafairytailofinnocence · 2 years

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Daemon Targaryen x Fem reader👸🌹

P.O.V: you fall in love with the rouge prince.

A/n: requests for this are open, comment below if you wish to see more of this or a oneshot.

#daemon targaryen #House of dragon #House of dragon moodboard #daemon x reader #daemon au

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lanasmissingvape · 23 days

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Just give me Targaryen hair pls

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sundreeam · 2 months

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~ the golden king ~

#aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #moodboard #hotd edit #the greens #aegonii #aegon targaryen edit #king aegon #hotd aegon

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daenysthedreamer101 · 3 months

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Targaryens and their dragons

"Like their dragons, the Targaryens answered neither to gods nor men."

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flowerandblood · 10 months

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The Impossible Choice (5)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, sexual tension ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He awoke in the morning, feeling the anxiety that had tossed him through the night. He could feel the sweet scent of her oils wafting in his nostrils, hear her soft, calm breathing, the heat of her body radiated in all directions, making him feel his entire body tense.

No woman ever stayed in his bed.

Her presence, this alien being, was something surprisingly shocking to him.

He opened his eye and saw that she slept lying on her stomach, her cheek pressed against the pillow, her face turned towards him. Her hair was scattered around her head in disarray, her lips slightly parted, her face relaxed and gentle.

She kept a safe distance, didn't touch him all night.

They didn't speak to each other after what they had done.

After he took her.

The fact that she had avoided his company throughout her stay in the keep, that she preferred to become acquainted with his sister rather than him, was at once comfortable, irritating and in some ways disappointing to him.

He had hoped that she would try to confront him, to fight back, meanwhile she had taken the tactic of distancing herself, not forcing him to be in her presence if he didn't consider it necessary.

Therefore, he watched her from the sidelines and once again felt a sense of disappointment when he found that he was unable, at least for the time being, to find in her a trait or demeanour that he could mock or use against her. She was calm but not dispassionate, cheerful but not silly, fond of conversation but not engaging in gossip.

In addition, her gowns, so different from those worn by her sisters, he had to admit, took his breath away every time he spotted her silhouette walking in the distance.

Perhaps there was something about the cut, the fact that the very fabric of the gown embraced her waist only below her breasts, where those were covered only by a snow-white chemise. He was furious, for this sight stimulated his imagination, and he was well aware that he was not the only man who had taken notice of this detail.

He had thought of taking her before the wedding, to dominate her completely and show her to whom she belonged, for whom the sight of her naked body was for; but he had given up this idea, recognising that if she was to be his wife, her maidenhood could not be called into question.

The closer it got to their nuptials, the more tense he felt, because even though he had promised her that if she obeyed him she would enjoy the act as much as he did, he was no longer sure he would be able to do it.

After all, in her eyes he was nothing more than a scarred and eyeless stranger who had snatched her from her father's arms and made a mockery of her sisters.

He hadn't thought about the fact that his touch might repulse her, exactly like what he desired to do with her.

The perverted, lewd touch he craved, him, deep inside her, between her thighs.

She was so innocent.

When he commanded her to kiss him, she was doing it so wonderfully shy, so gently, her lips so soft and pleasurable, that he could do just that all night, teaching her how he wanted her to caress his mouth, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, tasting her endlessly.

He knew, however, that his task that night was different.

He had to consummate this marriage for it to be valid, no matter whether she would be pleased with it or not. He, however, unlike his brother, took no pleasure in taking women against their will.

She was so gentle, so kind, trusting him, a stranger, letting him touch her in a way that frightened and embarrassed her.

He knew she had no idea what he was actually doing, how she should behave, but for some reason he was as terrified as she was and didn't know how to help her.

Whether any words from him could change anything.

He didn't want to lie, to say it wouldn't hurt.

He knew it will.

She didn't cry, she didn't squirm, she didn't get distracted, focusing only on her sensations, on his lips sucking greedily on her puffy, hard nipples, on his hand between her thighs.

He was filled with pride when he ran the tips of his fingers over her slit and felt her warm, sticky moisture. It made him feel more confident, he was already assured that she liked what he was doing so far.

He wanted her to like it, he wanted her not to run away from him.

Then, when he slid inside her, when her walls clenched against his cock so desperately that she caused pain even to him, he begged the gods that she would be able to hold on, that she would not cry, that she would not spoil everything that he had managed to do for them.

He could see her struggling with herself, pressing her lips and breathing deeply, trying to calm herself for him, to obey him, as he desired.

His brave wife.

And then he simply fucked her.

At first with gentle, slow rocking of his hips, just to try.

But then he lost his temper.

She was too tight, too warm, too wet, moaning too loudly and too sweetly, her body writhing too wonderfully beneath him.

He felt hot at the memory, trying not to think about the way her hands tightened on his chemise, how she sobbed beneath him, her face and body hot with pleasure.

Not to think about the wonderful sound that she made when she came underneath him, how perfect she looked as her body contorted in spasms of relief.

He pretended deep down that it didn't affect him at all.

He thought that she was his now, her every breath, look, moan, thought was to belong only to him, that he might take her again now.

To feel the softness and warmth of her bare, innocent body again.

His wife's.

He raised himself slowly on one elbow and moved towards her under the quilt, gripping her waist, lifting her slightly, kneeling behind her. She woke up and drew in a loud breath, all sleepy, he could see that she didn't know where she was or what was happening to her.

She tightened her hands on his wrists, breathing heavily as she felt him lift the fabric of her nightgown, exposing her hips to him.

"I will not cause you pain." He hummed, his voice calm and slightly hoarse.

He could feel her body trembling beneath him, he knew that after what he had done to her last night she was tender and oversensitive inside, her walls must have been sore and irritated.

He had no intention of hurting her as long, as she obeyed.

He grunted in satisfaction as she slowly released her grip, placing her hands on the pillow on either side of her head, her mouth slightly parted in a startled, quick breath.

He slid one of his hands between her thighs, searching for her womanhood with his fingers and exhaled softly in delight, feeling how warm her fleshy structure was, her opening still wet with their shared moisture.

He shivered with pleasure and lust at the thought of her, falling asleep filled with his spend, his lips involuntarily curved into a grin of satisfaction. He heard her sob softly as he began to brush her bud with the tips of his fingers in circular, slow strokes.

"Shhh." He whispered, continuing his movements, feeling her entire thighs tremble before him, his free hand stroked her buttock, staring in awe at the perverted sight before him.

He was in no hurry.

He didn't want her to cry when he fucked her.

He thought that it would be a very distracting sound, and after this she would run away from him and his touch for sure.

Of course, it would be her duty to father an heir with him anyway.

He thought that as long as she didn't give him reasons to be brutal and gave him what he wanted, he'd show her his softer, more understanding side.

It was a mutual exchange that suited him.

He didn't mind that she was inexperienced. On the contrary, her behavior and sudden, lively reactions made him desire her even more.

He knew that she was dismayed, that she didn't know what was happening to her, what he was going to do to her in this strange, unusual position, kneeling behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips at the thought.

He felt his slow, repetitive, gentle movements calm her down a bit, her breathing slowing, her chest rising steadily beneath him. He saw her fingers tighten on the pillow as the teasing of her sweet spot seemed to bear fruit slowly, his hand starting to get sticky with her juices.

"That's it. Good girl.” He purred in delight at what he could do to her, how wonderfully her body responded to his caresses.

He wanted her to want it.

To come to him, asking for more.

And he, if she behaved in the right way, might give it to her.

His cock throbbed painfully hard at the thought in his breeches, all swollen and he decided that he couldn't wait any longer. He slid his hand from between her thighs, and a soft sigh of relief escaped her lips as if she thought that it was over. He untied the fabric of his trousers, smirking with amusement at the thought.

He gripped her hips confidently, lifting them higher so that she was forced to lean forward, her breathing again quickening and terrified.

He thought that part of her mind already knew what was about to happen.

He was impressed with how patient and trusting she endured what he was doing to her. The servants he fucked usually asked a ton of questions, horrified as he pulled up ttheir woollen skirts, before the fast pace of his hips thrusting his cock into them left them speechless.

He heard her muffle a high-pitched sound as she pressed her face against the pillow, her fingers gripping the fabric of the material tightly when he guided the fat head of his manhood to her throbbing, hot entrance.

He slid in slightly, letting out a loud sigh of pleasure; her moist, hot, fleshy walls squeezed him wonderfully from all sides, making him grit his teeth and stop himself from moving aggressively inside her.

He could feel her trying hard not to express how much discomfort she felt, he heard her sob softly, almost inaudibly, as he thrust deeper into her, spreading her wide on his cock, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips.

“Just a little more. I promise." He whispered and groaned loudly when he slided all the way inside her with one, more forceful thrust of his hips.

He stopped, feeling the effort her body was making, trying to keep from running away from him and his grip, stroking her hot hip with his large hand, squeezing his eye shut.

"I will take it slow." He hummed, his calming voice matching the slow, almost tender movements of his hand.

He stayed like that for a moment, not moving, breathing heavily with her, letting her get used to the fact that he was so deep inside her again.

It surprised him how much pleasure he took from the sight of her in this position.

With one hand he still stroked her hip, and with the other he brushed her hair away from her face, all red with exertion, her cheeks flushed, her lips deliciously swollen.

He thought about kissing her, but decided against it.

He slid out of her slowly, only to slide back all the way to the end, a huge thrill of pleasure ran through his body at the sight of his cock stretching to the limit glistening folds of her entrance with a quiet click of her moisture.

"− yes − just like that −" He cooed, repeating his movements with confident, gentle thrusts of his hips, holding her waist in his hands, their bodies colliding with a soft, sticky slap.

He heard her swallow deeply and let out a startled sound of pleasure as he felt her body begin to respond to his rocking, her hips coming out to meet his thrust, intensifying his sensation.

He squeezed his eye shut, panting louder and louder, his cock throbbed painfully hard inside her as he heard her moan softly beneath him, her mouth parted in indecision, her eyebrows arched in worry as if she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.

He wanted to get more sounds out of her.

He wanted to drive her to despair with pleasure.

He wanted her to come again before his eyes.

She whined loudly, her lips parting in surprise as his pace became more brutal and intense, rooting so deep into her that he felt like he would pierce her stomach.

"− gods − taking my cock so fucking well −” He gasped, delighted, immersed in his own sensations, making him feel that his fulfillment was getting closer.

She didn't have to answer him, her cries, her expression, her insides squeezing his cock were enough for him.

He heard her sob at his words, his thighs hitting her hips in a lewd, wet slaps with each of his quick, brutal thrusts, her moans getting louder and more helpless.

He deliberately slammed into her at an angle to rub the soft spot she hid it deep inside her, to increase her sensation, to give her what she needed, his hand slid down to her clit, teasing her further with his fingertips.

"− see how wonderful it can be when you obey me? − ah − I said that I'd take care of you, didn't I? − that you'll enjoy what I'm doing to you −" He gasped and felt his voice get stuck in his throat as her whole body tensed, a loud, sweet moan escaped her mouth, her walls clenched greedily on his cock in fulfillment that apparently just shook her body.

He couldn't help the low groan of surprise that escaped his throat as he felt it, he involuntarily tightened his fingers on her hips, fucking her through her orgasm, ignoring her sobs as he stretched her oversensitive, sore core.

"− did you fucking came already? − ah − such a greedy little thing − came before her prince commanded her to − fuck! −" He gasped in delight, panting loudly with her, a few more of his thrust were enough for him to come with a sound of wonderful relief, his hot seed spilled into her interior.

He felt an immense relief, his whole body trembling with delight and arousal at the sensation that he had just experienced with her. He stared at her with hazy eye, at her parted lips, trying to catch her breath, her gaze full of heat, her face, neck and hips dripping with sweat.

"You did so well." He whispered involuntarily, neither letting go nor sliding out of her, wanting to stay with her in this position for a while longer to enjoy the view.

He heard her squeal of horror as his servant suddenly stepped into his chamber, apparently wanting to inform them that their morning meal was ready to be served.

The girl was confused when she saw them and turned her face quickly, flooding with a blush. He slipped out of her quickly with a soft hiss, furious, pulling his breeches up, his lady-wife instantly hid her hips under her nightgown, horrified and humiliated.

"− f-forgive me, Your Grace − your meal −" The girl stammered, apparently realizing that she had made a big mistake.

"Get out." He hissed as he climbed out of bed, fury in his gaze that made the girl shiver, she quickly bowed before them and left.

He picked up his boot from the stone floor and put it on his leg, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was shaking, covering her moutt with her hand, tears in her big, red eyes.

He swallowed softly, lowering his gaze, reaching for his other boot, guessing that she was terrified that this servant would convey to his mother what she saw.

That he fucked her like a common whore.

According to him, there was nothing insulting or embarrassing about the fact that she could enjoy this kind of brutal intimacy, although he understood that as a woman and a lady she had certainly imagined it very differently and felt humiliated despite the fact that he was her husband.

"You can go now." He said calmly and saw her flinch at his words, she gave him a look of regret and pain that he didn't like.

After a while the expression on her face changed; she lowered her gaze and stood up slowly, holding back the tears that welled up in the corners of her eyes. She took one step to the floor and inhaled sharply, her hand gripping the wooden pillar of his bed, looking down at her legs in horror.

He shivered at the thought that she had just felt his seed run down her thighs.

She swallowed hard, lifting her head with dignity, not giving him a single look and moved barefoot forward, with her trembling hand opening the door of his chamber.

She left without a word.

In a loud, commanding voice he summoned his servant, the same one who had dared to enter his chamber without warning.

The girl went inside, terrified, knowing what awaited her, he stared at her with his lips pressed into a thin line, trying to contain his anger and not slap her.

He considered it unworthy.

A sign of weakness.

"If you ever enter my chamber again in the morning while my wife is with me, I will have you handed over to my brother's service." He hissed, his gaze as cold and empty as his voice. The girl fell to his feet, sobbing loudly, her whole body trembling.

He felt the power of watching her grovel before him.

She had only served him for a month, because his mother had dismissed all the women that he had intimate relationships with before the wedding and he did not object.

He wasn't like Aegon.

He didn't leave things unfinished.

He made sure that they will not bear his bastards.

"I beg of you, Your Grace, have mercy, it will never happen again!" She mumbled with difficulty, and he pursed his lips at her words.

"You will not tell anyone about what you saw today. If I hear that my mother found out about it, I will cut your tongue out with my own hands."

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