Work Text:
An Investigative Mission
Daemon was no stranger to self-reflection. He’d like to claim that the concept of examining and analyzing his innermost thoughts was something that came naturally to him without outside influence. But truthfully, he had learned the importance of it while sitting on a leather couch and paying several hundred dollars an hour to a therapist.
And even that was a position he only found himself in at the behest of his former wife and current friend, Laena. She was a wonderful woman capable of extreme compassion, but she showed little of it when she told him, “We aren’t going to let our parents fuck ups fuck up our kids, too.”
Even the dumbass that was his twenty-three year old self could admit she had a point. So to therapy he went. He’d gone again for marriage counseling. And then again after that, because apparently the divorce—as cordial as it was, fucked him up.
Anyway, somewhere between those hundreds of hours spent trapped in a room and under the gaze of someone far more enlightened than him, he learned about self-reflection. He learned about himself, his feelings toward himself, how those feelings motivated actions, and perhaps most importantly—how those actions impacted others.
He’d been discharged by his therapist years ago, the woman telling him with a smile that he wasn’t fixed because no one could truly be fixed. But he had all the mental tools he needed to continue repairing himself without her.
Part of the outcome of all of this was the frequent musing of what his past self might think of his now, and the current actions or decisions he made.
Usually he could only speculate with the understanding that he had changed. He couldn’t put himself back in a headspace from a previous time, he could only guess based on what he remembered of himself from however many years ago.
But right now? He could say with a great deal of confidence that his past self from the ages of, oh, twelve to forty, would be fucking laughing at him.
Or, more specifically, laughing at what he was masturbating to.
Why wouldn’t they? It was absurd. He couldn’t believe this was his life. His obsession.
But it was. And he only had himself to blame. Well, he blamed Laenor a little. After all, it had started with a card he gave Daemon. And the supposed “gift” that went along with it.
.
A few weeks earlier…
.
GROWING OLD IS HARD AND AGING AIN’T SWANKY BUT GOOD NEWS…
The card declared on the front. With a sigh, Daemon opened it.
GROWING HARD IS FUN! AND MASTURBATION NEVER GOES OUT OF STYLE! SO TIME FOR A WANKY! Happy 42nd Birthday!
Daemon was not amused. With a sigh he peeled the gift card emblazoned with the OnlyExceptionalists logo away from the back of the cardstock, flipping it over to see it was made out for $1000. Laenor had also helpfully noted that it was nonrefundable. Awesome.
Daemon wasn’t sure what the typical fee to follow a user was on the platform, but he was pretty sure a thousand dollars was beyond the norm. A cursory google search also showed that they did not even sell gift cards which meant Laenor had somehow contacted them with this request and likely paid even more money to make it a reality.
The fucker had probably used his credentials as Talent Director of RedKeep, the largest producer and distributor of adult content on the internet, to get this. It was a job Laenor only had thanks to Daemon, by the way, who was one of the three original founders and had served as the biggest investor and financial advisor for over a decade.
He was proud of his time there, how he helped grow the business. But it had eventually been his time to go. It wasn’t his passion and it was going to be fine without him, and it had been. The Strong brothers were smart and far more innovative than him, excelling at chasing trends and integrating them into the company's offerings.
Plus, though his twenty-year-old self would have gaped at such a statement, he could honestly say he was kind of over porn. He’d explored every category pretty thoroughly, moving on from one kink to another as his tastes shifted. He’d been on sets before, and been to award shows—often taking stars home with him and experiencing the ‘goods’ in person. He’d even filmed a few scenes himself, though they had been for personal use rather than any website.
It was just all so predictable now. Even amaetur stuff seemed so convoluted these days, setups becoming so good and cheap that any grittiness or voyeuristic quality was lost. Porn just in general had lost its luster for him. Which was fine, more than fine, even. It had motivated him to move on and that was perhaps the best decision he ever made.
He’d focused on his marriage, his kids, and photography—the thing he went to college for before getting caught up in everything. They had been all over the Seven Kingdoms as a family, both for his work and for fun. They traveled dinky cars up steep mountains, by foot through rainforests, and by plane with Laena sitting in the pilot's seat. They had gone snorkeling, sailing, skiing, and everything in between. He wouldn’t change a thing about that time of his life.
But that time had passed. His marriage to Laena had ended. His daughters were in college.
And he was…
Well, he was alone on his forty-second birthday.
He needed a drink.
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L: dude, did you get my card?
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D: Yes.
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L: did you sign up? what do you think?
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D: You’re joking, right? They are our competitor.
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L: think about it as a investigative mission
L: have a report on my desk by monday morning
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D: No.
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L: :(
L: your dick might fall off if you go too long without jerking it
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D: Why are you thinking about my dick?
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L: it’s a good dick!
L: it doesn't deserve this
L: if you won’t do it for me, do it for your dicks sake, man.
.
Daemon downloaded the app.
It was pure curiosity that drove him to do it. He wasn’t approaching it in an investigative manner, exactly, but he’d been out of the game for a while—surely it was normal to wonder what people were gravitating towards now? He was still a major investor in RedKeep, who may very well acquire OnlyExceptionalists in the future. It would be good to be… up on things, and it would make Laenor happy, which, much to his chagrin, mattered to him.
Laenor, annoying as he was, had been in his life for…god, over twenty years. He’d been his brother in law for more than a decade, and a great uncle to the girls, but more than that he’d been a great friend. Especially through the divorce and the aftermath. Daemon didn’t think there was a more amicable divorce to ever exist, but it still sucked putting that relationship and life with someone he loved behind him.
He’d handled it well, he thought. At least in front of their daughters and friends.
He’d chased away the loneliness with girls and alcohol, though. Rarely spending a night in his own bed for the first few months that followed their split. Laenor had encouraged this behavior, and helped him rein it in and get back on track in terms of work and life. The happy compromise was joining a club he recommended, where drinks were limited but came with blow jobs, and back rooms were free for any tested clients to use.
That was a couple years ago though. His membership had long since lapsed—it turned out you could run out of kinks to explore, at least the ones on his limits list. Since then sex had been occasional at best, coming in the form of pretty girls he charmed at bars. Dates had been nearly nonexistent, though Laenor had tried to set some of those up too.
If he was honest, dating sort of scared him. Sex? Easy. Flirting? Easy. Small talk? Kill me.
So maybe this, sad as it was, was a good option for him. An exploration into something new, or at least—something new to masturbate to.
.
He wasn’t sure how their algorithm worked, but it was a little creepy how attracted he was to the third account they suggested. The name was PeekingPrincess and the profile picture was a set of truly fantastic breasts, cleavage on display but nipples hidden by thin cotton.
Daemon had been asked the question of whether he was a ‘breast or ass type of guy’ a lot while he was in the industry, because surprise surprise, a lot of execs think they can be gross when a business deals with sexual content. He would usually respond with, “Both” and try to hurry along the topic.
It wasn’t a disingenuous answer. Both were good. He liked every part of women, a lot, so much so that love for their form had been responsible for most of the things he loved about his life now, too.
But breasts were just special.
When they were on the smaller side, he wanted to squeeze them and test the firmness before dragging his fingers to the tips. And when they were larger, there was nothing better than holding the weight of those precious globes in his palms. They were just so different to the chest of a man, so wholly feminine, so beautiful.
This girls were large and sat high on her chest in a way that spoke to her youth opposed to the intervention of a surgeon. No, they had to be natural, she was just blessed, and he was blessed to see this much of them, fuck. They looked so soft, and like they would bounce beautifully. She probably had videos, right? He would have spent every fucking cent on that gift certificate right then to see them bounce.
He wasn’t sure what the norm was for these profiles, but his eyes scanned hers eagerly.
Thanks for peeking in, it’s a pleasure to have you here. You can call me Princess. Twenty years old, the tits and tresses are both natural, I swear! If you sign up you can see more of them and watch me do all sorts of things!
Some examples:
Laundy
Cooking
Dishes
Reading
Studying
Cleaning
They don’t sound like very much fun, do they? That’s why I like to dress up in pretty things while I’m at it. Sometimes I get so worked up in the process I have to stop and get myself off.
3+ videos a week, daily panty pics, no full nudity, messaging at my discretion.
He blinked. Her services were… watching her do chores while clothed? Wasn’t this for porn or was he more out of touch than he thought? A quick google search confirmed that most users made adult content, but it was not required to have a presence on the platform.
Fuck, he had to be drawn to one of the rare exceptions that didn’t actually get naked, didn’t he? He was going to kill Laenor. All he’d gifted him was a set of fucking blue balls.
He scrolled back up to the header picture on profile. God, those were exceptional tits. And fifty bucks a month was nothing in the grand scheme of things, at least to him.
He entered the payment info and clicked subscribe. The second he did, the phone started vibrating, his daughter's name coming across the top of the screen and he swore. He hadn’t even done anything but he felt like he had gotten caught with his pants down. It was amazing, the timing kids had when it came to interrupting their parents sex lives. Not that this was, well... It didn’t matter what it was.
“Hi Baela,” He said, smiling when her chipper voice responded, “Hi dad! Happy birthday!”
It had been a while since they talked, it was nice to catch up. A far better birthday activity than whatever his ex-brother in law tried to bully him into.
Speaking of bullies, though, his daughter was a fucking tattle tale. She had somehow used her teenage powers to text her mom while they were talking, because five minutes after he hung up, Laena was waltzing into his apartment.
“It’s pathetic to spend your birthday alone.” She said, “Take a shower and then we’re getting something to eat.”
Sigh. “I want my key back. You’re lucky you didn’t walk in on anything.”
She snorted, “Like what? I reformed you from your manwhore phase.”
He glared, “It wasn’t a phase, it was a lifestyle.”
“It was sad. You were so desperate to escape it you married me after like, two months of dating.”
“And then you broke my heart by divorcing me.” He said, mournful.
It was her turn to glare, “That’s bullshit and you know it. Shower. Now.”
“You can’t boss me around anymore, you’re not my real wife.”
He did shower though, but it was because he wanted to, not because she told him to.
.
When Daemon married Laena he had felt like every event in his life had led to that moment.
In some ways, she was his first love, but in others he felt like he fell a little bit in love with everyone.
He’d had a fascination with the human body for as long as he could remember. Not even in a sexual way, just an interest in the forms people had, and the differences between them. He could remember sitting on the beach as a kid and just… watching.
It just seemed inconceivable to him that everyone around him was part of the same singular species. When you looked at the color variations between say, pigeons, or grizzly bears, they were such a defined thing with a specific range and predictable amount of variation. But people were so different and it was so cool.
He’d been maybe nine years old when he shared this with his foster parents and the three other foster kids who lived there. They gave him a tired smile and a bored, “That’s nice sweetie.” Before setting down a peanut butter sandwich in front of him, a common dinner in that household.
He wondered now, if his parents hadn’t died, he would have ended up as an anthropologist or something along those lines. But with no one to encourage his interest in the more scientific side of things, and puberty creeping up on him, the interest did eventually veer towards sexual.
Playboy magazines had been his bible at that age. Bridging the gap between his interest in girls and their interest in him. But once that gap had closed, he was happy to spend more time with a naked girl than looking at pictures of ones (but those pictures were still good too).
Stealing magazines was easy enough, but he wasn’t brave enough to do more than look at the covers of the VHS tapes that held pornographic contents within. Though one of his friends had taken the risk while his parents were out and given him a play by play.
It wasn’t like he was deprived though, he was having plenty sex of his own. Like, perhaps too much. He was kind of a slut, honestly. The fascination with form had continued, and he liked the varied experiences sleeping around offered. He liked learning the weight of different girls' breasts, the differences in how they tasted, in how they felt wrapped around his dick.
And then he got curious about guys, and learned how they tasted and felt too...
His friends joked that by the time he got to college, there wasn’t a bed frame big enough for all his notches. And he couldn’t really argue with them. And he didn’t really slow down, either.
In college he was, to some peoples amusement—given that he had never owned a camera before, a photography major. If someone asked why, he would give the heartbreaking answer of,
“ My mom died when I was really young and I never had many pictures of her. But it taught me how much a photo can mean to a person.”
It wasn’t a lie but he would admit later that it was because he wanted to be the person taking photos of naked chicks for Playboys. Those images—seeing a girl's curves for the first time, they had impacted him more than almost anything in his youth.
And yet, by his second year he despised photographing models and having to communicate with so many different people in the process. He liked people. He liked being in charge of people. He didn’t like collaborating with people.
“Is there any photography job like that?” He’d asked his teacher, a bit desperate. The man thought for a moment, before asking, “How do you feel about heights?”
And so, he began researching aerial photography.
And Laena was a licensed pilot.
.
He knew Laena already, sort of, in that she was Laenor’s sister, and Laenor knew everybody.
When they were introduced for the first time, Daemon told her she was almost as pretty as her brother, a comment that earned him a breathtaking smile. He told her later that night, when they were in bed together, that she was way prettier than her brother.
It was true.
He kept the fact that she was also way better at giving blowjobs to himself, though.
But it was true, too.
In the months that followed his whole life changed—he found out about his inheritance, and sunk half of it into his fraternity brother's idea for RedKeep. He dropped out of college. He bought a shitty apartment, and a big diamond for Laena who wanted to marry him despite everything.
She was a constant in his life for years. As RedKeep took off. As did his career outside of it. As did hers. As she gave birth to the two girls. As she cried over the third one they would never get to meet.
Even the bad moments were better when they were together, until they weren’t.
.
It was a rare evening where they were both home and also alone with each other. The girl’s were at a sleepover and he’d been working somewhat lazily on his computer while the TV blared in the background. He was aware enough to hear Laena approach, and he looked up when he saw her set two pints of ice cream on the coffee table in front of him.
They didn’t drink when they were on parental duty in case there was an emergency and they had to drive, so ice cream had replaced scotch in their serious conversations. She settled on the floor opposite him and opened the containers, shoving one in his direction along with a spoon while saving the other for herself.
And then she said, “I want a divorce.”
He swallowed.
“We are more like siblings now than husband and wife.” She said, and he bristled—she noticed this, and glared at him, “Don’t give me that shit about your families ‘queer traditions’, it's gross.”
“We’ve had a good fifteen years, Daemon. But if we stay together we won’t have another good fifteen years and you know it.” Fuck, he couldn’t really argue with that.
It had been a good fifteen years. Better than that. But now she wanted a reliable schedule. A big place with a big yard in the suburbs but close to an airport. She wanted a giant dog. She wanted to settle in the way they never really had. And she wanted to do it with someone who wanted those things too.
And she deserved that. And maybe he did too, though fuck knows where he would find it.
When he said as much between bites of ice cream, Laena had sighed sympathetically, “It’s a pity you’re an only child, huh?”
.
“Thank you for tonight,” He said, and he meant it.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss your birthday, who knows how many you have left.” She said sincerely.
“I’ll see you in two months when we are once again the same age.”
She grinned, “You better be.”
He would be. Because they didn’t need to be married to be there for each other.
As he unlocked his door he realized he never got back his key. Sneaky bitch.
He set his ringtone to silent before revisiting the app. His home page was now consumed by content from the girl that called herself ‘Princess’ and he was not complaining. Though she was true to her promise of no nudity, it was hardly the wholesome content her list of tasks suggested. Before watching the streams, he scrolled through her photos—dozens of pictures of her lifting skirts to reveal pretty underwear beneath.
In some of them, she had nothing else on—it was just cropped to keep her breasts out of frame. But somehow the ones where she was holding clothing out of the way were even hotter? Like the ones captioned “lazy day!” where she wore nothing but an oversized shirt that was hiked up to show the pale pink panties beneath.
But god, the pictures of her in bras. He couldn’t comprehend the size of her lingerie collection, because she rarely seemed to rewear a piece. All the more impressive because he knew from Laena’s complaints that bras that size were neither easy to find nor cheap. But this girl, she was committed to the cause, clearly, and he was happy to donate to it with his subscription.
She never showed her bare nipples, but he could see the shadow of them beneath pale lace that cupped her breasts like a layer of second skin. Some photos were zoomed in, almost artistic. Others were selfies in bathrooms, paired with laughing emojis saying she hoped she didn’t get caught.
There were sports bras, and practical ones out of cotton, but she seemed to favor silk and lace. Romantic pieces, but in dark colors that stood out on the pale backdrop of her skin. The few full body photos she had included these, sets complete with garter belts and stockings and god she was fucking perfect. He wanted to stroke every inch of her. Press kisses to the dip of her waist and swell of her hip. And how was he hard at the mere thought of that? God there were more explicit images in a victoria’s secret catalog for fucks sake. He hadn’t been turned on by those when he was fourteen and desperate, and now he was forty!
His breath caught in his throat when he saw her face. It was cut off in all the racy images, which probably made sense for her protection. But it was just as gorgeous as the rest of her. He didn’t think she had makeup on and she looked so young he felt a little bit sick that he was so attracted to her, but she was so, so, pretty.
It suddenly made sense to him, why this was the ‘future of adult content.’ Not that that was really what this girl’s content was. But even so, a girl like her wouldn’t come within ten miles of a porn studio. She wouldn’t even go to a casting call for a racy part in a film. He knew that, from the time he’d worked in the industry—the thousands of headshots he’d seen, and the hundreds of hours of content he had watched.
He’d never seen anyone comparable to her. Girl’s that looked like her didn’t get dicked down on camera.
Her hair was naturally a platinum shade—he knew that right away, for it matched his own and when it was bleached it was never quite right. Never as light, always a little orangey, roots always showing even with weekly touch ups. But hers was perfect, shiny, falling around her shoulders with the ends cut out of frame.
Her lips looked so soft, a rich pink as if she bit them often. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and round but outlined by a delicate bone structure and defined jaw. Her eyes were large, and a vibrant purple he could get fucking lost in. He wanted to kiss her. When did he last want to kiss someone?
Okay, that was enough of her photos. He couldn’t take more of this. He switched to the video tab of her profile, and— fuck.
If he thought photos of her in skimpy things were uh, hard to look at, seeing her in motion was. Well, he didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t understand how it was this hot? She was just wandering around her kitchen, wiping down counters before pulling out things from the fridge and cabinets.
He watched her make pancakes, his eyes glued to the screen in interest for all thirteen minutes. When they were plated, she bent over—showing off a glorious amount of cleavage, before kneeling so her face was in frame. She took a single bite, swallowing it before catching a drip of syrup with her finger and licking it clean.
Oh, what he would give to be a drop of syrup.
The video ended.
He couldn’t remember ever being this hard in his entire life. But he was not masturbating to…whatever this was. He wasn’t. He would have a cold shower, maybe go for a run. That would fix it.
After two minutes in the freezing spray of his shower his dick was still stubbornly hard, which was impressive, really. With a sigh he turned the temperature up and gave in. He was prepared for a lackluster orgasm, given the lack of lube, lack of content before him, and the fact he only had his palm to offer stimulation.
And yet, when he closed his eyes and thought of her…
He hadn’t come that hard in years.
Fuck.
.
It had been a week and he had already watched all 53 videos he had access to.
They all ranged from about ten to thirty minutes long, and as promised, included all the tasks she had mentioned and more. One of his favorites had been watching her curl her hair, camera set up behind her while she used heated tongs to make perfect platinum coils. The camera was far enough away that you could see her tits in the mirror and the cheeks of her ass at the same time, and the whole time she was humming along to some pop song in the background.
When he came, he had imagined he was fucking her over the bathroom counter, and she was complaining that he’d mess up her hair, but then she was moaning too much to say anything at all.
In another she had painted her toenails. He wasn’t into feet. He wasn’t Larys. But her toes were cute and she was cute, her nose wrinkled in concentration as she carefully applied the pink polish.
The longest of her videos was called “a bedtime story.” She was wearing a silk slip that wasn’t particularly revealing and leaning back against a pile of pillows. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she looked exhausted, the poor thing.
“I’ve been studying all day, I’m reading one chapter of my book and going to bed and uh, I hope it isn’t boring?”
It wasn’t. The way her lips wrapped around the words of the fantasy drama was so fucking sexy. He had no clue who the characters were, or what was happening, he was just besotted with her.
And then, he found one where she masturbated.
It started innocently enough, several minutes of her cleaning the kitchen with her face out of frame. But that was fine, because she had on these little shorts that were just…
And then she took them off and hopped up on the countertop. Fingers dipped beneath the cotton panties, and he listened to her little gasps and moans as she writhed against her fingers until she came.
She washed her hands, then put on a pair of rubber gloves and did dishes for the remaining seven minutes of the video.
That was when he realized he was done for. He knew what she looked like, and sounded like, but knowing what she sounded like when she came? Fuck. He was obsessed. It was truly embarrassing how she had consumed him without even knowing he existed.
He was grateful when he got called to shoot something in Dorne for a week because it was a distraction from her that he desperately needed. He still watched her videos in his hotel room, but otherwise his avoidance was going well.
There was another shoot, this one in Vale.
Princess posted a video of herself covered in bubbles in a bathtub, hair wrapped up in a conditioning mask of some sort. Someone in the comments asked what it was. She shared a link to where you could order it.
Daemon might have bought it. He wanted to know what she smelled like, because he was a sick fuck. The package was waiting for him when he got back, and he opened the plastic jar to take a sniff. He couldn’t describe it, but it was sweet, and bright, and warm, and just how he imagined her.
Yeah okay, he totally used it to jerk off.
It was purely an economical use, he didn’t bother with conditioner now, not when his hair was short. And it was mostly oil anyway. It wasn’t creepy. It wasn’t. He just didn’t want it to go to waste!
(Why did he set it up for auto-ship, then? That was between him and the gods.)
He was in Essos for a month on location.
Princess posted herself practicing High Valyrian.
Daemon googled ‘how to download the audio of a video from OnlyExceptionalists ’ only to realize it was too high tech for him to figure it out on his own and he was not asking his daughters to help with this.
Then, Princess messaged him.
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P: you know, my watchtime hours have doubled this month thanks to you, tysm ^^
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Daemon was not prone to embarrassment. He had enough confidence and life experience that it just wasn’t an emotion he had much room left for. But the realization she could see how many hours he had spent watching her clean her apartment and sometimes masturbate? Crushing.
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D: I may have tried to restrain myself if I knew that statistic was available to you. But you’re most welcome. It’s been a pleasure.
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P: a pleasure? good. that’s the goal!
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D: Well, if that is the goal you’ve scored many, many, times this month.
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P: mmm, i wish, i haven’t scored in months </3
Was she flirting? She could not be flirting, could she?
D: I truly wish I could help you with that.
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P: in a way you do, i make these videos for me too, i get really wet knowing people are watching and get off after, but plastic cock just isn’t the same :(
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D: A pretty girl like you could find a real one at any pub in the Seven Kingdoms.
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P: ur sweet <3 i’m just picky, looking for something special.
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D: Like what?
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P: i like sex and i like being spoiled but i want something serious. aka a guy with a huge heart and huge cock
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D: What is considered huge?
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P: send me a picture and i’ll tell u ^^
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D: <photo attached>
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P: ffff yeah that would do. lmk if u r ever in the Crownlands, lol!
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Definitely flirting.
.
The obsession did not improve after that, not with her asking for his thoughts on her newest videos after they went live. And definitely not with him asking if she got off after, too, only to get photos of slick dildos in response instead of words.
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D: princess like you taking something that big inside of you??
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P: gotta be ready for u x)
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They talked about life, too. She was studying Valyrian History and Language—only in her first year and completely delighted by the fact he had studied it too. She would send him photos of her homework and grades and soon they were texting in the app more often then he did with anyone else.
He didn’t realize how serious it was until he next saw Laenor. He had slapped his friend on the back before sitting down across from him at the bar table. It was rare they were both free at the same time, and he was looking forward to catching up with his friend.
They were talking about his work when Daemon mindlessly made the suggestion of keeping individual users' watchtime private from independent actors on their new site. Laenor had narrowed his eyes, as if the policy reminded him of something. It must have, because instead of responding he asked,
“Did you ever use that gift card?”
Daemon coughed. “Uh, yeah.” he was playing with the wrapper of his beer on the table, like that would distract him.
“Did you watch so much porn you got called out?” He asked.
“Fuck, no!” He said, not embarrassed by the implication but also… no. “She doesn’t even make porn.” He admitted.
Laenor blinked at him. “What the fuck does she make?”
That was a…valid question and Daemon wasn’t really sure how to answer it.
“She makes videos, but she isn’t naked, she just…exists? And looks pretty?”
Laenor gaped. “And you watched it for so many hours she figured it out?”
Well. Sort of. But he wasn’t going to admit that outright.
Laenor sighed, leaning back, “Man I just wanted you to loosen up a little, get your dick ready to get back in the game. But that isn’t healthy. That’s sad. I’m sorry man, I guess I should have gotten you a gift card to OKcupid instead.”
He looked genuinely apologetic, and that made Daemon feel bad. Was it really so weird? It had felt sort of obsessive at first, but now that they were talking…she seemed to like him too. It was fun, and easy in a way the dates he’d been on weren’t. It didn’t feel unhealthy, not to him. But he didn’t think he would be able to convince Laenor of that.
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P: fff have a test today and wicked cramps :(
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D: What would make you feel better?
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P: cake. chocolate cake.
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D: Do you have an UberEats #?
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P: …maybe
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He wasn’t sure where she lived, but there was a patisserie chain he’d been fond of in the Crownlands. She had to be close-ish to a college campus, and it allowed him to send the order to the associated account, so hopefully it would work out.
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P: omg i’m ruined. this cake. not sure any other will ever compare
P: honestly not sure any man will compare to u
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D: Now who is sweet? Must be all the cake in you.
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P: wish I had something of yours in me too
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D: Back to your usual self!
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P: the cake cured me, thank u doctor
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She asked about his job. He asked about her school.
She asked how old he was, and he said he hoped she liked older men.
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P: how old?
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D: 42.
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P: hmm may need a pic to know for sure
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D: <picture attached>
.
.
.
.
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D: …you there?
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P: srry, just rode a vibe until i came imagining it was ur face because holy FUCK
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D: Mm, I’d let you if I was there.
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P: lol you’d die, you can’t do that irl, just in porn
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D: Whoever told you that is a liar with poor technique.
D: But also death from suffocating on your sweet cunt? A good way to go.
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P: fuck i wish we could meet irl
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It was Baela’s birthday, unfortunately smack dab in the middle of the semester. But Daemon had blocked off this time in advance, and so had Laena—they were both determined to see her on the day she turned nineteen, after all, she was their baby girl, no matter how old she got.
Parking was a fucking disaster, Daemon brought the cake in first, leaving it on the counter while he enveloped his daughter in a hug. He didn’t have favorites between the girls, but Baela was so much like him. He didn’t just love her, he understood her so well it was hard to imagine loving anyone else more.
“It’s good to see you, dad.” She mumbled into his chest, and he gave her shoulders a squeeze in agreement. That was an understatement.
“I hate to leave, but I want to grab your presents before your mom arrives and wants help decorating.” Baela rolled her eyes, and Daemon just shrugged—Laena’s desire to buy balloons for any occasion was no longer something he had to take any responsibility for. Perhaps one of the true benefits of divorce.
He made the trek back to the car, his phone pinging with a text from Laena,
L: I’m here + Bae’s bestie
Of course, her timing was inconvenient as always. He was going to get her peeved glare for being absent because he darted out for a total of five minutes. Some things didn’t change, married or naught.
He dropped the bags on the coffee table, wandering to the kitchen where the voices were coming from.
“What flavor is it? I had double chocolate from them a few weeks ago and it was heavenly. ”
“I always tell dad to surprise me, it’s like an extra gift.” He smiled at his daughter's voice, coming to lean in the door frame into the apartment's small cooking area. Baela caught his eye almost immediately and smiled.
“Speaking of my dad, dad, this is Rhaenyra—my best friend, Rhaenyra, this is Daemon, my dad.” She gestured between him and the blonde girl who was turned away from him. The girl in question spun around at the mention of a new person to meet, extending her hand politely before looking up at him and— oh.
His first thought was, she is even prettier in person.
His second was, fuck, please don’t let this ruin things.
Introductions were a little awkward, but not to the point of being suspicious. He mostly tried to avoid looking at her, at least until other people arrived and his gaze would be less obvious. It seemed like a decent plan, but after an hour he couldn’t resist messaging her.
D: I can’t believe you’re here, and that you’re even more beautiful in person.
He watched her from across the room while he pulled her phone out, which made him feel a little like a creepy stalker, but the feeling was mostly overwritten by how fucking nervous he was for her response.
P: i know we just met but can i blow you in the bathroom in like 5 mins?
P: i’m dying knowing i could have my lips on u rn
Daemon must have looked like a maniac with how wide his smile was.
Yeah, he didn’t think this would ruin anything.
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At Baela’s wedding a few years later, Rhaenyra was at his side. She was radiant, five months pregnant and looking like a goddess of fertility in the seafoam colored bridesmaid gown. Daemon had just finished his speech, every bit a proud father as he said,
“I don’t think greater gift exists than being able to witness your child’s happiness. It’s been a privilege, an honor, and a joy to be your father since the moment you were born. But I’ve never felt that more strongly than today.”
Rhaenyra was sniffing a little when he sat back down, “You’re such a good dad.” She whispered while Laena stood to begin her speech.
He gave her a quick kiss, and while their lips were inches apart he whispered, “Do you know what gift is a close second?”
She sighed, “You’re going to say my tits, aren’t you?”
“Much like their size, my love for them grows with every day.” Nothing made him more convinced that pregnancy was a blessing more than the effect they had had on her already phenomenal breasts.
She laughed, kissing the corner of his mouth before sitting back in her seat.
“Just wait until I start lactating.” She said casually, taking a sip from her glass of sparkling juice.
If he listened closely in that moment, he was pretty sure he could hear some past version of himself laughing hysterically.
Because seriously, who gets an erection at their daughter’s wedding dinner?
Er, well, probably the same guy who got a blow job at her nineteenth birthday.
At least he was consistent?
But more than that, he was happy. And as he looked at her, his beautiful wife, surrounded by people he loved who had been brought together to celebrate his own daughter and her love, he knew. This was what every moment of his life had been leading up to.
What a fucking gift.