#modern daemon

“Hungry much?” Daemon mumbled, getting up with the toddler to walk into the kitchen. He sighed, looking at the small creature in his arms. He shared blood with this boy. But not as a nephew and uncle. No! Father and son. His blood and flesh.

As Daemon cut a cucumber and held the slice to his son, little chubby hands grabbed it eagerly and stuffed it into his little mouth. “Gremlin.” Daemon mumbled as he watched his son stuff his face with the vegetable.

But he had to admit, he occasionally stuffed his face with food too. Or other things his son was way too young to know about.

The boy looked at his father, grinning and holding out the half-squished slice of cucumber to his face. “Hm, thanks kid. But it’s yours.” Daemon tried to deflect. He had to suppress the urge to look disgusted. You had told him to tone down his Daemon-ness for the sake of the boy.

His son ate the squished cucumber without a care.

You were at work. Swamped with paperwork and guilt. The guilt of a mother weighed you down. And the other women didn't help—especially not the older ones with the "helpful" advice.

Why aren't you with your son? Working already?! Shouldn't you be home with your child?

You dreaded the coffee nook of the office now. Their judging eyes followed your every step.

It only got worse when you mentioned during lunch break that Daemon was home with your son. You felt like crawling out of your skin.

What? The father is at home? Oh, he is babysitting him!

No, Daemon took leave from work so you could work and not crawl up the walls. But you were slowly regretting it.

One more comment about your ability to be a mother or being told you are a bad mother and you were ready to quit. Maybe you should! Daemon earned more than enough for you both.

“Oh, I thought you left after lunch to go home. You shouldn't leave your baby-”

You slammed your hands on your desk. “That’s it! I quit!” You shouted. Slamming your computer shut before storming to your boss. You didn't care about being the most productive person in the firm. You couldn't keep working with know-it-all mothers whose children couldn't even finish college and lived in their basements.

The front door slammed shut, startling the boy playing on the rug in front of the sofa. The noise was too loud and new; he got scared and began to cry.

Daemon turned his face and saw the little storm cloud looming over you as you stormed past him. “Bad day?” He called. His eyes darted to the baby on the floor. He walked over, crouched down, and picked up your son, gently rubbing his back.

“Don’t!” Came your shout from the bedroom. Daemon cringed.

He looked at your boy. “Buddy, let's make mommy smile. Come on. Or she is gonna feed you milk with a lot of angry hormones and then you'll be all gassy." Your son made a sound between a gurgle and a hiccup. Daemon smiled softly, wiping away the tears and snot with the nappy on his shoulder.

With your son in his arms he carefully walked into your master bedroom. “Mommy looks like she needs a hug from her little man.” Daemon spoke in a baby voice. Moving one of the baby's hands in a waving gesture.

You turned, your thrown changing into a small, reluctant smile. Daemon knew you couldn't stay mad the moment you saw your son. “Hey there, baby boy!” Your grin grew, holding out your hands and taking the small boy. Smile widening as you hold your son.

Daemon smirked as he watched you kissing your son all over his chubby face. “So, I gather you quit after being back for a day?” He mumbled, noting the time. You nodded.

“There were mean old ladies who gave me so much helpful advice on how to raise our son, I nearly gave my hormones free rein and let them taste their own keyboards.” You spoke with a smile that was too saccharine, as babies sense when people around them—especially their mother's—got upset. The sarcasm in your voice didn't pass by Daemon.

He cleared his throat. “You know…” “Don’t finish that sentence, Targaryen!” You glared at your husband over your boy's downy head. Daemon held up his hands. “I just wanted to say, there is a job open at the firm—it has better pay. I would never pass up on a talented accountant. I am way too opportunistic to let you become a housewife.”

You raised a brow. “Really?” “Honey, I would sooner cut off my own jewels and forsake ever having another child with you than let you suffer the fate of becoming a housewife."

Daemon stepped closer, hugging you from behind and pressing his lips to your hair. One arm resting over your belly while the other lay on top of the arm holding your son. “I may not be the best example of a feminist, but I won't force you into a role you would only suffer. I saw you go up the walls before you were cleared for work.”

You sighed softly. “Do I get benefits?” “Other than seeing me in sexy suits charming off your pants? Yeah, you get your own office, triple your pay, in house child care. And most importantly… home office.” You purred softly. “You spoil me.” Daemon grinned. “Well, you are worth it all.” He gently captured your lips in a soft kiss.

To read more of my work, please take a look at my MASTERLIST.

Aegon Targaryen.

Alicent stood frozen at the doorway, clutching her purse as she took in the chaos before her.

You were standing in the kitchen, furious, voice sharp, eyes blazing, while Aegon looked like a cornered animal, hands up in surrender.

“YOU GOT THE WRONG ICE CREAM, AEGON!” you yelled, waving the offending tub in the air like it was a personal betrayal. “I SAID STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE, NOT STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE—ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING WHEN I SPEAK?!”

Aegon flinched, looking helpless. “It’s the same thing!” he argued, only to immediately regret it as your eyes widened in pure, hormonal rage.

“OH, SO NOW I’M THE CRAZY ONE?!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “DOES STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE SOUND LIKE STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE TO YOU?!”

That’s when Alicent cleared her throat loudly.

Aegon turned so fast he nearly tripped over himself. “Mother!” he exclaimed, like she had just descended from the heavens to save him. “Thank the gods.”

Alicent sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. Then, she fixed Aegon with a pointed look. “Aegon, you never mess up a pregnant woman’s cravings. Ever.”

You crossed your arms victoriously, glaring at him. “SEE? Even your mother agrees.”

Aegon groaned, grabbing his keys. “Fine! I’ll go back.”

As he stormed out, Alicent turned to you with a calm, knowing smile. “I remember these days well,” she said, voice warm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure he never makes this mistake again.”

And true to her word, Aegon never dared to get the wrong craving again.

Aemond Targaryen.

Alicent stopped in her tracks the moment she stepped inside, eyes widening at the scene before her.

You stood in the kitchen, absolutely fuming, while Aemond looked half-exasperated, half-defeated, rubbing his temples like he was trying to solve the world’s greatest mystery.

“AEMOND, I SAID THE GREEN APPLES, NOT THE RED ONES! HOW HARD IS THAT?!” you practically shrieked, holding up the bag of offending fruit as if it personally insulted you.

Aemond sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re apples. They taste the same.”

Bad. Move.

Your eyes narrowed dangerously. “They. DO. NOT. Taste. The. Same.”

Alicent, standing awkwardly in the doorway, closed her eyes for a brief moment, clearly having flashbacks to her own pregnancies. Then, with the patience of a saint, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond,” she said calmly but firmly. “Go back and get the right apples.”

Aemond groaned. “Mother, you can’t be serious.”

Alicent merely arched a brow. “Do you want to argue with a pregnant woman, or do you want peace?”

Aemond glared at you, then at the apples, then at the door. He exhaled sharply before grabbing his keys with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Green apples. Gods help me.”

As he stomped out, you turned to Alicent, still grumbling under your breath.

She simply smiled knowingly. “I went through the same with his father,” she said, patting your arm. “Trust me, he’ll learn.”

Jacaerys Velaryon.

Rhaenyra had barely stepped through the door when she heard your furious voice echo through the house.

“JACE, I SWEAR TO THE SEVEN, IF YOU BRING ME THE WRONG ICE CREAM FLAVOR ONE MORE TIME—”

Jace stood in the kitchen, looking positively exhausted, holding a pint of ice cream that was clearly not what you had asked for. “But love, they didn’t have the exact brand you wanted, so I got the closest thing—”

“THE CLOSEST THING IS NOT THE SAME, JACAERYS!” You dramatically flopped onto the couch, arms crossed over your swollen belly, your glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

That’s when Rhaenyra cleared her throat, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “What in the Seven Hells is going on?”

Jace turned to her like a drowning man grasping for help. “Mother, tell her all chocolate ice cream tastes the same!”

Rhaenyra immediately put a hand on her hip, her expression turning serious. “Jace, have you learned nothing?”

Jace blinked. “Wait, what?”

Rhaenyra sighed, walking over and sitting beside you, taking your hand like a true queen comforting her subject. “When a woman is pregnant, what she craves is law. If she says one brand of chocolate ice cream is different, then it is different.”

Jace groaned, running a hand down his face. “But they didn’t have it!”

Rhaenyra simply shrugged. “Then you go to another store, Jace.”

Jace gaped at her. “Another store? Mother, do you know how many places I’ve already checked—”

Rhaenyra gave him a pointed look. “Did I stutter?”

Jace sighed dramatically, throwing his head back before grabbing his keys. “Fine! I’ll find the damn ice cream.”

You huffed, still pouting, as Rhaenyra gave you a small smirk. “Men never learn, do they?”

Daemon Targaryen.

Alyssa had seen many battles in her lifetime, but nothing could have prepared her for the war zone that was your living room.

“DAEMON, I SWEAR TO THE GODS, IF YOU BRING ME ONE MORE WRONG MEAL, I’M THROWING YOU OUT WITH THE TRASH!”

Daemon stood by the kitchen counter, looking utterly lost and betrayed, holding a takeout bag like it was evidence of his crime. “It’s the same dish you asked for, just from a different place!”

You dramatically pointed at the bag. “I TOLD YOU I WANTED IT FROM THAT ONE SPECIFIC PLACE! THE ONE THAT SEASONED IT PERFECTLY! DO YOU WANT ME TO STARVE, DAEMON?!”

That’s when Alyssa swept into the room, her piercing gaze scanning the chaos. “What is going on here?”

Daemon turned to his mother, looking desperate. “She’s threatening to throw me out over food!”

Alyssa’s silver brows lifted, and she calmly turned to you, taking in your furious expression, your hand protectively resting on your belly.

Then she looked back at Daemon. “Did you bring her the wrong food?”

Daemon scoffed, gesturing to the bag. “It’s the same dish, Mother! Just from a different place!”

Alyssa sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Daemon, you are a grown man, yet you have the common sense of a drunk squire.”

Daemon gaped. “What?! Not you too!”

Alyssa stepped toward him, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “When a pregnant woman makes a request, you fulfill it to the letter. If she wants it from that one specific place, you ride there yourself if you must. Do you understand?”

Daemon scowled, shifting uncomfortably. “Ride there myself? Mother, that place is across the city—”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “Did I ask for excuses?”

Daemon clenched his jaw, looking between you and his mother before groaning dramatically, grabbing his cloak. “Fine! I’ll get the damn food.”

As he stormed toward the door, Alyssa turned to you with a knowing smirk. “Men truly are fools, aren’t they?”

A wide smirk adorns your lips as you prance past him completely bare, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. 

He growls, and quickly hooks his hands under your armpits to sit you on the desk. The cold wood hitting your bare ass has you shivering, but him getting ready to line himself up with your pussy is enough to distract you from it. 

You tsk, placing your hand on his chest to push him back. “Open your shirt, daddy,” purring the words, you lean back enough to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

You plant your feet on the surface of the desk, and spread your legs further apart to give him the perfect view of your swollen and soaked cunt. There’s no way Daemon is meeting your eyes, or even flinches to look at your face at all, merely keeping his gaze fixed on what lies between your legs. “Or do you want me to do it for you?” 

There is a growl rumbling in his chest as he hears you using his own words against himself, but he still complies. His hands fist the black fabric, and he all but tears it apart, the several buttons flying straight across the room. 

His motion has your eyes widen in shock, clearly surprised to see him act so reckless just to get to bury himself inside of you again. He’ll probably have to leave the office with his shirt undone; that is, if he doesn’t order his assistant to bring him a new one. 

The sight of his bare chest, coarse, silver hairs spreading all over his pale skin, has your mouth watering, and you reach out to graze your hand over it. It’s almost as exciting as his hard cock standing to full attention, the red tip angry and practically begging to be sheathed inside of you again. 

“Fuck,” Daemon grunts, leaning forwards to tower over you. He plants one hand next to your hip, supporting his weight, while the other seizes yours and brings it to his rock hard cock so you're cupping it.

He stares into your half-lidded eyes when he speaks again. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me, bunny?” His voice is audibly strained, and he has to stifle a groan when your fingers wrap around his shaft. 

He’s glistening with your arousal, pulsing and aching right in your palm, and you’re so overtaken by the sensations, that you can’t do more than whimper a desperate ‘yes’ with an eager nod of your head.

His large hand comes to clasp around yours, guiding your significantly smaller one up and down his throbbing cock, jerking himself off before he thrusts his hips forwards to prod at your entrance. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so full of my cum,” he grunts, his dark blown eyes flitting down to your pussy, watching as he drags the tip of his cock through your swollen folds. He rubs it against your clit, circling it and also coating himself in your arousal. The shivers of pleasure that come with it jolt through your core, coaxing whines and whimpers to topple from your lips. 

You’re keen to embrace him again, and all but push your hips against him. He’s met with little to no resistance since you’re still thoroughly soaked from your previous orgasm, and fills you to the brim at once. 

“Maybe I’ll even knock you up if you beg for it, bunny,” he grunts, too lost in the warmth of your pussy. “Get you all nice and round with my child, would you like that?”

The gasp you release at the sensation gets caught in your throat, his pubic bone rubbing against your sensitive clit sending you in a haze. You’d love that, but you’re still on birth control. “Daddy, fuck, I–” The words die on your tongue, the blonde immediately pounding into you with reckless abandon.

He gropes at your bouncing tits, your hips, and whatever inch of your body he can grasp, but not once leave his eyes the spot where you two are connected. He’s almost mesmerized by watching the way he repeatedly disappears inside of you, and even more by the white ring of your arousal that has already formed around the base of his shaft.

With his hand on your body, his cock pistoning in and out of you at a pace devoid of any mercy, and the overstimulation long replaced by nothing but pleasure, it’s an easy game for your second orgasm to approach you. 

It comes in an ambush, striking you without a warning with an intensity that’s unmatched, his name falling past your lips like a prayer as hot pleasure floods your veins. 

Your walls clench and quiver around him, and it seems that Daemon’s words and thoughts have gotten himself so worked up, that your release finally triggers his own. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s-that’s it,” he groans, his husky voice strained. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, and with the force of your orgasm, you keep him tightly locked against your body, unable to move. His hips involuntarily still as his pulsing cock spends itself deep inside of you, and as much as he wants to thrust, he can’t do more than grind and rock his hips, riding out his own high while helping you through yours. 

Only when it’s over do your legs release him, allowing him to find a more comfortable rhythm again. It’s not at all as reckless as before, but it still seems as if he’s determined to fuck his seed into you, as if it could bear fruit. 

His hips still, and he topples forwards with a grunt, bracing himself on both hands. His silver strands cling to his sweaty skin, and he has his eyes screwed shut as he regains his composure and steadies his breathing. 

“As soon as we’re home, I’ll throw away your pills,” he husks, taking in a deep breath. 

His gaze meets yours, and his jaw sets briefly, as if he’s expecting the worst. But you just nod, a wide grin on your face. “I actually wanted to tell you tonight,” you hum. “I want your baby, daddy.”

Daemon Taglist: @barbiedragon @schniiipsel

“Oh my god, Daemon!” you squealed as you grabbed his arm. A shiny red private jet with the Targaryen name written across the side sat across from you.

“It’s my brothers but he never uses it,” he said as he began to help you up the stairs.

You shot him a slightly concerned look, “He knows you’ve borrowed it?”

He paused before turning to the flight attendant at the top of the stairs without replying, “Hi Darcy, nice to see again. Cmon love,” he said ushering you in past the flight attendant.

Despite being in a stolen plane you let your nerves relax as you buckled in beside your new husband for the fanciest ride of your life. “How come you never mentioned the private jet?” you asked.

Daemon shrugged, “I don’t like to show off my wealth,” he said, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing considering all the money he’d spent on designer shoes and shopping trips for you. daemon however looked genuinely confused and now you were slightly questioning how much money he really had if everything else was petty cash.

You tried to push the worries out your mind however as the captain announced himself and the jet began to take off.

-

“This is nice,” you hummed as you sank into the hot spring. Daemon had rented you out a section of the Old Variya island and the nicest cabin you’d ever seen.

You were in a cute little two piece he’d got as a wedding gift to himself while he wore his Gucci swim trunks. His eyes racked your body, and he looked back up smirking, “God I’m lucky, aren’t I?” he said, swimming over to you and sitting on a bench in the water. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You hummed and kissed him gently, “Filthy rich, sexy, with a hot girlfriend? Hm not lucky at all,” you teased but he grinned, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

“Hot wife,” he corrects, his lips moving to kiss up your neck till they finally landed on your check, “Definitely the luckiest fucker alive if I’ve got you,”

-

The first day was spent relaxing in the hot spring and eating food made by a private chef from the local area. The next day you decided to take daemon hiking. It was hilarious.

“My feet hurt,”

“Bugs keep stinging me,”

“Does my forehead look red? I don’t think I have enough sunscreen,”

“Why is sunscreen so sticky?”

“How much longer?”

“Do you want me to carry you?” you asked, climbing up a rock so you could get a better view of the forest bellow you. “Cmon it’s the great outdoors. Enjoy it!” You yelled; arms stretched out the feel the breeze. “The views amazing up here,” you grinned, looking over your shoulder to see daemon smiling up at you.

“Don’t worry about my view love. Things are looking pretty good from down here,”

-

Day three was declared by your husband to be a beach day. The first step was sunscreen, something he was very happy to help you put on your back on the private beach. His hands were like a gods, working out all the knots in your spine as he rubbed in the sunscreen as you lay on a beach lounger. You laughed as you felt his hands slip lower to squeeze your ass. “Hey!”

“What?” daemon chuckled, kissing the back of your shoulder, “Call it my reward,”

“You think you deserve a reward?” you asked, flipping over to look up at him.

“Yes, I think I do,” he said as a matter of fact as he leant down to kiss you softly.

You smiled into the kiss, your hand moving to the nape of his neck, “Okay come and get it then,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled him to climb on top of you, his hand instantly moving to between your legs as you pushed your best into his. Thank god the beach chair would turn out to be so sturdy.

Series Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress@themotherofblood @avalyaaa @simbaaas-stuff @lunampacheco

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The first time you saw him was at an exhibition at the Targaryen foundation, which depicted life in Old Valyria. He was magnetic, intense and almost too attractive. Truly inaccessible, you thought, however, life wanted to positively surprise you with the opposite of that. You weren't used to going to sophisticated places, although you were a girl with expensive and demanding tastes, so when your friend invited you to the event your heart almost jumped out of your mouth. It was so exciting to be among such a select few of New York's elite, you could almost relax for a moment. Almost.

Underneath the subtle makeup and cheap clothes — perfectly chosen for the occasion —you were scared. Not out of fear of discovering your humble nature, after all that never embarrassed you, but fear of rejection, of the superb and elitist look in your direction, fear of humiliation by unhappy and mean people. At the start of the exhibition your figure stood alongside your friend and her friend, Aegon Targaryen, a fully representative specimen of the rich fuckboy stereotype — at least he was funny. However, as the evening progressed and people became more relaxed, you assumed you could move around and mingle with less tension around people. You've talked to some of the Targaryen/Velaryon youths closer to your age. Two of them, Jacaerys and Daeron were genuinely adorable and even a little flirtatious, which made you slyly recoil upon realizing their interest.

In this way, finding yourself in a corridor away from the small crowd, you began to contemplate some paintings placed on the wall that didn’t belong to the exhibition. One of them caught your attention and captured you for a long time, it was a night city in a cyberpunk aesthetic in the shape of the upper part of a male silhouette. You've never seen anything like that.

"Do you like it?" A male voice asked very close to you, on your side actually.

And then he appeared. Tall, thin, short hair, with a discreet smile.

“Uh, I'm not a big art connoisseur, but I appreciate a beautiful painting,” you said.

“And what do you think of this one?”

You returned to contemplate the painting again, before replying: “I like the futuristic aesthetic. It's aggressive, rowdy and intimidating, it reminds me of works like Altered Carbon, it's chaotic and dark and I can't stop admiring it. I don't really know if it's futuristic at all, but it resembles me. I think it was my favorite so far.”

He didn't hide his satisfied expression upon hearing your opinion, looking away from his handsome face to the screen in question.

“The reference was a troubled phase of my youth, I spent nights awake in galleries in downtown New York, Chicago and Paris. It was more underground than it is today and I certainly have some scars, but nothing that time can put us back on track.”

His eyes sparkled in self-realization. That was not only the author of the painting, but he was also a Targaryen. How did you not notice before? The short gray hair and violet eyes were distinctive enough to give away a Valyrian for miles. Maybe it was some mechanism in your brain to avoid associating him with a descendant of the dragon and making you nervous again, but it didn't matter now, not when he was already beside you in that beige linen shirt with the long sleeves and collar and sophisticated posture.

“Daemon Targaryen,” he said, holding out his hand.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile, greeting him back. “Are these all yours? They are very good."

He didn't need to look at the other pictures in the hall to nod. “Only a few, most are in my gallery.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “How long have you been painting?”

“I like to say I was born with brushes for fingers,” he chuckled with a hint of smugness. “And as for you, what were you born to do?”

"I don't know. I never really knew. I like my field, although I haven't graduated yet, but I never had a big dream or talent for arts in general.”

The look he gave you was understanding, almost affectionate, nodding. You stayed the rest of the night together, and even though you hadn't lived a third of what he had told you, the oldest Targaryen didn't make light of your experiences and aspirations for the future, quite the contrary, he asked a lot about your tastes, your dreams, your preferences and desires. Even if you were apprehensive about being around the most charming man you'd ever seen, Daemon was good enough to break through your preoccupation and wrap you up in a spiral of seduction veiled in sophisticated words and good conversation. By the gods, how you longed for that night not to end and you had to return to your simple and unglamorous life, to your heavy routine of studies and tiredness with uninteresting boys unlike the handsome man at your side.

“You have a beautiful face, you know, I would love to have you in one of my paintings,” he said as he rested his glass of white wine on the shelf beside him, “and I can already imagine how.”

"How?" You smiled in ecstasy, especially when he moved a piece of your hair to your ear and caressed your face. Your heart froze a beat and your mouth parted, a part of the smile still visible. It seemed too unreal to be true, but you would never object to what was about to happen.

“I'd love to show you,” he said before cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that made you float. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer and rose on tiptoe to reach him properly, only to find yourself deliciously pressed against the wall as he stole the breath from your lungs in the sexiest, most demanding way possible. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that your reality seemed fully magnified as he pulled back and stared into your face, still so close you could only get intoxicated on his expensive woody cologne. “Come to my apartment, I need you babygirl.”

Oh dear, an indecent sound nearly escaped your mouth at the nickname, your breathing turning into wheezes immediately. You've never been in a relationship with an older man, not for lack of interest, but there weren't any such attractive options close until tonight. It felt like a sensual dream, especially when he traced circular patterns on her neck with his thumb.

“Yes."

Daemon glared fiercely before pulling you gently around the waist and out of the room, opening the door for you to say goodbye to your friend and Aegon, hating the knowingly slutty look he directed at your figure. Your heart pounded with each traffic light the luxurious red convertible crossed, impressed by the ruby, blue and green lights that illuminated that part of town and even more by the large hand that was on your bare thigh. How you wished it would rise a little higher...

Luckily his dazzlingly modern apartment wasn't far away, with beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sea of buildings and skyscrapers of the world's greatest metropolis. It was breathtaking. You couldn't help but walk to the center of the room, gently tapping the glass as a smile left your lips. "It's so beautiful."

“No more than you, I promise,” he whispered into your hair, next to your ear, sending shivers through the body. He curled one hand in front of your body, caging you between the glass as he brushed your hair away from your neck to sensually kiss your erogenous spot, making your eyes close and your hands rest on the glass. His vague hand ran over your waist and breasts, squeezing your flesh deliciously. “Have you been with a man before, babygirl? A real man, not these fuckers who don't know how to satisfy a girl properly.”

“No, I never have been,” you replied breathlessly, looking at him through the reflection.

“I will make sure you never forget this night.”

Daemon turned you around to kiss you, demanding to taste, lick, suck, and bite each of your mouths. He'd like to taste your sweet pussy right there, fucking your beautiful body against the glass, but he wanted more, so much more, he wanted to lay you on the bed while the blue light outside illuminated your body just like the painting he'd imagined. And so he did. He stripped you of your clothes before laying you on the white sheets, drinking in the masterful image before you. He leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck as he slid his hand down the length of your body to the wet spot between your legs, spreading your wetness with his fingers before massaging your clit incisively with the palm of his hand, making a long, breathy moan out of your throat as you held him from behind, desperate for more friction. He removed his hand from your legs to grab your breasts and bring them to his mouth, but was quick to repeatedly grind his clothed manhood against your needy, wet pussy. He smeared saliva on your breasts and continued to tread south, kissing and stroking your stomach with his big hands.

“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your shimmering femininity, so eager for his attention. “So fucking pretty,” he said before kissing the inside of your right thigh, holding your hips in place to dip like a bee on your flower, eating you like no other has. You moaned loudly and squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto his hair as your legs unconsciously tightened around his head. He never wavered, devouring your pearl like a starving man only to feel your body relax beneath him, your orgasm coming so hot and wet it had you moaning pathetically as he licked for another moment. A proud smile appeared on his features, which was met by a shy and satisfied smile before your hands struggled to remove the last physical obstacle that separated them.

“Ready for me, love?”

You nodded during the long look at his beautiful member. How he would love to thrust into you with no hindrance, but that would be asking too much for a first night, he knew that. So when he returned to the bed with the condom on and settled himself between your legs, his hand on your knees, there was nothing to look forward to but losing himself in your wet heat, so deliciously hot and tight. He let out a guttural growl as you let out a sly moan, sagging in glee as your pussy was filled in a steady rhythm.

“Daemon,” you cried breathlessly, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He became deeper and faster in his movements. “Oh! Don’t stop!" Your whisper had him moaning in your ear and biting down on your bottom lip, fucking your sensual body hungrily.

“Fuckin' hells,” he growled as you squeezed him and milked him wet all over his cock, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck. He didn't last long after that, allowing himself to fully enjoy your heat to come hard over your body, rolling over to discard the condom and lying next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“That was amazing,” you said, smiling wide and tired, feeling your warm intimacy relax completely.

He just smiled and nodded silently, draping an arm over your shoulder. You didn't bother too much to stay awake, however, Daemon's low voice caught your attention.

“You said you never had great aspirations, but you also told me of dreams to be fulfilled, desires, everything you would like to have, see and live. Let me do it, babygirl, let me help you.”

Your eyes widened, looking up to meet his calm features. "Are you serious?" We don't even know each other well, this is a big step for both of us,” you said.

“We have enough time for that, I just need to know if you want it.”

This is definitely the best night of your life. Of course I do, holy shit I want it so bad. “Yes! I want it! I want it so much!” You kissed him sleepily, smiling against his lips. And that's how the dynamic between you began.

Might.

While laying on your side, and beneath the covers, you delicately slung a leg over his waist. Carefully balancing your weight on your knees, your hands splayed over his bare chest as you leaned down to brush the tip of your nose against his. You kissed him. More of a graze of your mouth against his than anything else. Smirking to yourself at the feeling of his morning stiff cock beneath your center, you bit into the swell of his bottom lip.

No, you didn’t want to be gentle. You wanted him up and eager like you were. “I know you’re awake,” you whispered on his cheek before kissing along his jaw.

A rumble sounded somewhere deep in his chest. A groan, a laugh, you weren’t entirely sure, but its reverberation vibrated beneath your hands. “I am now, you little devil,” he said in a voice thick with sleep. 

Music to your ears. "As soon as my eyes opened I saw you. And you know I can't resist you," you said. You flexed your thighs around Daemon’s middle and he sighed contentedly. He only wore sleep bottoms, and you only wore one of his shirts with your underwear beneath. Very little stood in the way of your bodies joining together. It'd be easy. So easy. A tug of his waistband, and a slide of your underwear, and you could be sinking down on each of his glorious inches until he met your body’s end. Your hips shimmied, slowly, on their own accord.

"Are you already wet, princess? Barely awake and already soaking for my cock…," he tsked as if hot blood didn't rush to the entirety of his manhood.

A second smirk played on your lips. Your fingers pushed through his short hair – a fresh cut – and you tugged. Lightly. "You only call me princess when I'm sucking you off or riding you into oblivion."

"You're grinding that wet little pussy all over me. I bet there's a damp spot on my pants right now." His hands squeezed your hips and he gladly guided you along. The lovely hue of his eyes locked on you – a shark smelling blood – and he swelled even harder beneath you.

While you were hoping for a little fun this morning, you weren't quite expecting this. You ached. The low muscles of your belly quivered in anticipation as he moved you to a rhythm he liked.

"Yeah… yeah, just like that. Grind that needy clit all over my cock," he whispered hotly. Just when breath started coming quicker to both of you, need turning into nothing short of primal lust, your phone on the headboard started ringing. 

"You gotta be joking," you whined exasperatedly. Answering, it was one of your coworkers. Your eyes widened as she talked; whole mood shifting. "Oh shit–! Okay. Yeah, yeah. No, I completely spaced it. I'm so sorry. Be there asap." 

"You truly are a devil for waking me up like this only to run away." A shadow of something darker flickered across his features. Yet, somehow, an air of arrogance and sarcasm managed to remain in the forefront of his expression.

"Desmond Manderly’s daughter needs her cake today. I could have sworn it was for tomorrow! I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you later, I promise," you said as you quickly rolled from atop him and began to get ready for the early, and long, day at the bakery.

Daemon did laugh at that. "Shrewd man. Hope you aren't too distracted today, kitten, otherwise you'll have some serious answering to do. Everything better be perfect for his little girl." The panic on your face was much too entertaining for him.

"Oh, God," you groaned. "I know! I'll see you later!" You kissed him goodbye with such chaste it made his cock ache all over again; how could someone be so quick and innocent with their affection after just grinding and teasing him to full attention? With the full intention of fucking him absolutely silly?

A succubus. Undoubtedly.

Between the cakes, frosting, fondant, and sugar decorations, there were three of you working on the Manderly girl's order. All of you had culinary school under your belts as well as dozens – maybe hundreds – of cake orders completed together. This was just another one. Nothing to get too worked up about. That's what you kept telling yourself, anyway. 

It didn't help that your mind was elsewhere all morning. You had half a mind to lock yourself in the bathroom and rub one or two out to release some of the pent up tension you had in your body. It wouldn't be the same, though, and you knew that. 

You wanted Daemon. 

Fuck. You wanted him so bad. 

A natural break happened between the timing of everything, and you actually were able to slip away into the bathroom for a few minutes without feeling guilty. You snapped a couple selfies to send him. Innocent. At first. It didn't take long, however, for your photos to grow more and more lewd with each press of the capture button. The final round of photos – the filthiest you dared to be in a bathroom at work – you sent with the message:

miss you, daddy

You hung out as long as you could before having to return. Daemon never sent anything back. In fact, it looked like he hadn't even read them yet. He must be busy, you thought, before exiting to return to the job at hand.

Enough time passed that the cakes were cooled enough to begin the decorating process before your phone dinged with a text message. You tried very hard to ignore it and continue working away, but as it went off a second time, and a third, all self-control flew out the window. “Be right back,” you said to one of your fellow bakers before stepping away from them to read your texts. 

Judging by the timing and angle of the photos he sent back, he must have been in a meeting with his elder brother, Viserys, and other important people to the Targaryen business. His family was messy and you tried your best to stay out of the drama. The photo was taken with his right hand, and the angle captured his black slack covered thighs beneath the table, as well as his left hand atop the table. It was such an easy photo. Nothing, really, to someone who didn’t know your relationship. An accidental photo, perhaps. But, no. You knew Daemon all too well to know it was deliberate. You clenched. His message read:

Is Manderly’s cake suffering imperfections? 

A blush instantly bloomed beneath your face. When you took a second look at the photo, you noticed the font of his pants were visibly tighter than what you could imagine was comfortable; the blush spread up to your ears. The rest of this fucking cake was going to be unbearable to make. You replied, with the eye emoji:

can't promise anything now

When you returned to the kitchen the other girls immediately knew something was up. The combination of your blush, twinkle in your eye, and restrained little smile did all the talking you wouldn’t. “Daemon is just being silly,” you told them. “He knows we can’t mess up on this and he’s being a horrible tease. I think he’s going to need the spanking tonight.” Giggles erupted and, surprisingly, the rest of the time didn’t go by as bad as you thought it might. 

Finally, in the early afternoon hours, the cake was finished and you all breathed a huge sigh of relief. Not a single line was out of place. It could have been a professional photoshopped photograph!

Upon stepping outside you were greeted by the most wonderful surprise. There, parked on the side of the road waiting for you, was Daemon in his red Aston Martin DBS Superleggera. Of all his vehicles it was his favorite. And it was your favorite, too. His best car for his best girl. “If I knew you were picking me up I’d have at least freshened up before coming out,” you said, laughing, as he rolled the window down. Thankfully you took your apron off at the very least! But there were still traces of flour, frosting, and whatever else on places the apron didn’t cover.

There was a sly glimmer behind his eyes. “Get it, sugar, we’ll pick your car up later” he said with a tilt of his head.

Happily obliging, you got in and closed the door. He rolled the windows up before merging onto the road. Grinning, he seemed unbothered by the fact you switched the music from his to your favorite instead. “Did you like what I sent you earlier?” You asked sweetly.

A laugh rumbled in Daemon’s throat as his eyes slid from the road to you, lingering. “Very much so. What were you thinking about when you took them?” Much as he wanted to look at you, and only you, he had to pay attention to the road, also. 

It was such a small, strange thing, something your friends didn’t quite understand, but… you loved, absolutely loved, the way Daemon looked driving. Especially his Superleggera. There was something about the set of his face when he concentrated, and something about the sharp focus of his eyes when his foot sank on the gas pedal – powerful engine roaring and rumbling – that made you want to open the front of his pants and take him in your throat. “Was thinking about you, of course,” you answered with dreamy eyes. Fuck he was so handsome. “I thought about making myself cum right there in the bathroom…,” you admitted, coy. “But I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Only you’re enough, daddy.”

“The first photo was my favorite. You’re so fucking cute when you look all innocent like that. Especially when I know how quickly you turn into a little slut. Fucking yourself in the bathroom? Even that is low for someone who woke up as needy as you did this morning,” he said, voice morphing into the tone that made you weak in the knees.

Blood blossomed behind your face. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it… the one you sent back made it very obvious. God. It made me want you even more.”

“My lap? Or cock?” He asked with a slow arch of brow.

“Both.”

“Perhaps I’ll bend you over my knee for distracting me like you did. I had to leave the meeting early. Viserys was livid.”

You stared at his hands on the steering wheel and squeezed your thighs together. Wide palms, fingers decorated with rings, skin rough and smooth alike. Your boundaries were always respected. Even moreso when you were over his lap receiving whatever punishment he deemed necessary. “Daemon…,” you whined, leaning further into his space. “Don’t tease me like that.” You rubbed one of your hands along the inside of his thigh, feeling over the front of his pants and the bulge which began to swell there.

He pushed your hand away. “Did I say you could touch me?” He asked, smirking despite the scolding.

You pulled back with a shake of your head. “No. But I want to.”

“And I want to stuff that pussy until your eyes roll back. But you don’t see me trying it right now, do you?”

Again, you shook your head, but this time you giggled, too.

“I bet you’ve been wet all day. I can’t believe you didn’t fuck yourself silly in that bathroom. Mmm…,” he paused, chuckling. “The next meeting, tomorrow, won’t be in person. Only online. You’ll stay home with me and I’ll find a good use for you. It’ll be dreadful anyway. I’ll need the distraction. And what better way than you? My pretty little princess slobbering all over my cock.”

That pet name always triggered something in you. “What about a distraction now?” You asked as you angled your body towards him, legs spreading apart, as you began to unbutton and unzip your pants, ready to tug them past your hips in an instant.

“While I’m driving? You naughty thing. If I won’t have you touch me, why the hell would I allow you to touch yourself?”

A part of you wanted to tease and touch yourself regardless of what he said... if only to see how angry he might get, and what he might do to you afterwards. Another day, perhaps, because for now all you could think about was how you left him this morning.

“I saw you think about it… good girl, baby, for not pulling those pants down. Here I was, too, thinking about all the ways I might bend you over my lap and smack your ass until its red from all the shit you've pulled today. You only call me ‘daddy’ when you want to get fucked brainless. And you've been moaning it all day."

Daemon's voice dripped down your spine like liquid fire and pooled in your core, quivering with the need to be taken by him. To be claimed, marked, and filled by his seed. "Oh my God… please. Yes, yes, yes. Please," you begged.

"Fuck, I'm so hard thinking about your ass pounding against me while I take you from behind. You like that best, I know you do. My hand tugging your hair… pulling it… squeezing your hip, scratching your back… you make the prettiest sounds." His voice graveled with restraint. Each word seemed heavier than the last. He flickered his attention to you and smirked, eyes dark. "You turn into my perfect slut. Cock hungry and fucking soaked, just like you should always be for me."

You actually moaned. "Get me home right now and fuck me before the door is locked," you said, mirroring him.

Small as your moan was, it went right to Daemon's uncomfortably constricted length and throbbed. He sped down the final stretch home, not needing to be told twice.

He was true to everything he said and more. You finally got to ride him, too, before taking a very long, very hot, and very distracted shower. Together.

-

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