liannafae

[liannafae]

Another one, thank you

Dawn

Aegon x Aemond fic

(Nightly Fantasies 2)

Word Count: 1118

NSFW warnings: targcest, submissive Argon, Dominant Aemond, male breeding fantasy, toxic devotion

Aemond was pressing kisses to Aegon’s shoulder as he fucked into him while spooning. Each soft, almost *too sweet* moan was music to his ears. It was daylight now, but still early. Aemond was a naturally early riser who liked to stretch and exercise before having his morning meal so he was rarely bothered before the ninth morning hour with food or anything. Aegon, the servants well knew was lazy, and often wasn’t even up before midday so any food brought would be wasted. It was the perfect motivation to get in another attempt at *conceiving*, which led to this moment now. Aegon’s hand reaching back to clutch at Aemond’s head, arching so needily to meet the cock in his ass and Aemond’s hand lazily stroking his king’s cock with the occasional nipple touching.

Every time he gave Aegon’s nipples a little rub with his thumb or pinched it Aemond made himself a promise to lean heavily into it the next time they did this. Maybe in the “proper” breeding position…so he could watch the other’s facial expressions.

Aegon was prettiest when he was fully exposed to his brother with his pale skin flushed or spanked pink and his needy, blissed out, *adoring* faces all out in the open for Aemond to admire. He really was a beautiful man, and Aemond loved to hammer the compliment home as he drove deeply into him.

“My pretty love,” the Prince whispered, licking the outer shell of the other’s ear as he quickened his place just enough to be stimulating but not to force the other into the final throes just yet. “You’re so delectable in the morning light, I could devour you.”

He punctuates this with a deep thrust and twist of the wrist which had Aegon covering his mouth to stop from crying out. He moaned behind his hands a few moments before setting his hand on top of Aemond’s, just holding it.

“J-just for you, only you dear b-b-brother.” Aegon was reaching his limit. He was getting goose flesh and it had Aemond smiling.

He leans closer and presses a kiss to the corner of Aegon’s mouth. Aegon turned to him to kiss him fully, the act between them slow and sensual with adoration in every touch of their tongues and meeting of their lips. “Say it for me…,” Aemond whispered, pulling back to meet their eyes and stilling his body.

The eye contact was intense and Aegon took a moment to catch his breath, then cup Aemond’s scarred face more tenderly than he had the night before. His thumbnail gently tracing the bottom lip.

“I love you.” The King said, then gulped, seeming to steel himself to confess something even more. When the words came they were nearly inaudible. “Even if only in private, my devotion is to you alone. Us, against the world.”

Aemond’s heart was pounding, his cock was twitching and he felt such a surge of love, and desire thrum through his body he was nearly collapsed by it. It must’ve shown on his face because Aegon gave a rare, genuine and full smile, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

“Cum inside me again, my Prince. I want to feel another heir to the throne take root.” Aegon requested. And once again, Aemond’s control broke, and he was a horny hound needing to breed once more.

He pulled from Aegon only for the time it took to flip him onto his stomach again, and yank his hips up. On instinct Aegon spread his knees wide and presented his hole with a sinful jiggle of his ass. If the stuff used to make him slick wasn’t so bad tasting Aemond would devoured the thing thoroughly and had Aegon spilling again in seconds, but perhaps at a later date after a shared bath.

“Such a teasing whore,” Aemond growls as he presses back inside, giving the soft flesh a harsh smack. “You love it when I make that ass bounce with the force of my cock don’t you? Fuck-yes it’s doing it now. So soft, like bread dough beneath me and you’re sucking me in deep. You must need my seed again so badly don’t you? My soft, sweet brother, by the Gods if I can’t give you another heir I will bloat your middle until it looks like you’re carrying a piece of me within you.”

Aegon moaned loudly and in punishment (and for security) Aemond shoved two of his long fingers down his lover’s throat. Expert at sucking the long cock that was currently battering at his special spot Aegon didn’t even noisily gag, he just closed his pink lips around the digits and began to suck.

*Gods be good*, Aemond thought as he raised his face to the heavens and finished, his cum going straight down into his brother so fast he could imagine a bigger roundness to Aegon’s middle than there already was forming. He moaned in pleasure.

“That’s my good boy…your ass may need more training but your throat already belongs to me… I’m very proud.” Those words had Aegon causing an even bigger mess on the sheets from the pulsing of his muscle around Aemond and the moans muffled around his fingers.

Chuckling, Aemond pulls his fingers out and smacks his behind once again-harder. “Now I think I’m ready to face the day…aren’t you, my dear King?”

Aegon groans. Aemond chuckles again and slips out. Before either can move away Aemond grips the top of Aegon’s thighs and forces him forward more. Aemond’s thumbs dig into the soft skin around around the pink thing and he sighs happily at the sight,

Aegon had yelled a little at the move and now was writhing and wiggling. “Brother! What are you doing?”

“Admiring,” the younger says, without a hint of embarrassment. “You know if I wouldn’t have to slice the neck of anyone but me who saw this…I’d have an artist draw this for me so I could always remember it.

“That’s so perverted!” The older proclaims, but more of Aemond’s cum spills down onto Aegon’s sack as he clenches at the thought.

“Mmm…it might be worth it.” He releases Aegon (who collapses) and then stands from the bed. He kisses Aegon’s sweaty forehead tenderly before gripping his chin lightly and making him look up. “I’d wager you have until the sun shifts at the next hour mark to get back to your own chambers dear brother. Can’t let the servants know you’re in here.”

He smiles and walks to his bathing chambers then. He’d wait until Aegon had left to call for hot bath water. With such a stellar beginning, the day was sure to be oh so lovely.

[liannafae]

Wow 😳

Nightly Fantasies

Aemond x Aegon (Aegond) fic

Word count: 1765

NSFW Warnings: targcest, dominant Aemond, submissive Aegon, male breeding fantasy, some humiliation, praise

It would be bold of his half sister-probably too bold-but it wasn’t impossible. More than likely it was his Uncle who had sent this person. It was much more his style.

He lay there pretending to still be asleep as he listened closely to hear the movements of the shadow. He kept his breathing even but also shifted a bit. Even going so far as to softly groan to sell the illusion. After his grown he thought he heard a soft whine-peculiar.

His bed dipped a bit with weight. The sheets and quilts covering him were hoisted up just enough for a body to slip in beside him. A hand he knew so well cupped his cheek, the one with the scar and a warm, naked body pressed his side.

Aemond let go of the dagger and wrapped his arm around his brother, who eagerly pressed even closer; his already semi hard cock rubbing against his thigh.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Aemond whispered, firmly but not unkindly, his long fingers tangling in Aegon’s hair.

Aegon groaned fussily and pressed his nose to Aemond’s neck. He breathed in deeply and his greedy hands roamed all over Aemond’s chest before one slid down to cup a lower cheek.

“Now now, use your words. You don’t smell of drink so I know you can.” Aemond pressed a few kisses to Aegon’s hairline, the action so sweet it made the other’s cock twitch in need. The younger brother smiled.

“Had a dream,” the older brother nearly whined, his hand squeezing the ass cheek in his hand. “Woke up hard and I rubbed it but it wasn’t enough…I needed you…”

Humming in a pleased manner Aemond brought his other arm around Aegon and pulled him half on top of him, so his thigh was between Aegon’s.

Aegon whimpered and automatically began to rut against Aemond’s muscular thigh. All his hours of sword swinging and dragon riding had toned his already lean body to have hard muscle. Aegon was softer around the middle due to drink and bouncy in the behind from sitting all day. The difference between them always excited Aemond, just another funny joke of fate’s to make the younger brother taller, stronger in mind and body and the older-now the *King* of the realm, shorter, softer, and easily maneuvered by the younger. Despite the abuse he had suffered at Aegon’s hands when they were younger and his own volatile feelings during the day Aemond loved his brother. When this…had started between them, it had almost felt like a way to make up for their past, Aemond would take it. Anything to feel the love they both craved.

Aemond let him go at it for a few minutes, his eyes still closed as if he really was too tired but that smirk was on his face. The one that Aegon said made him look like a mischievous feline. He didn’t moved at all until Aegon began to pant his name in between the word for please in High Valyrian. Aegon knew very little that was appropriate for the day time in High Valyrian. Aemond’s smirk deepened.

“There now,” he purred, finally opening his eyes and blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light, He gripped the soft skin above Aegon’s hips and lifted him up so he could straddle his cock instead of his thigh. Aegon let out a whorish moan and kept rutting. He could see Aegon’s desperate look only a little but it made his longer, thicker cock throb at the sight.

“Is that what you wanted my dear love?” Aemond cooed, voice calm even as his breath was quickening. Their cocks were slick with Aegon’s freely leaking precum and it felt so fucking good his control was hanging on my a thread. For now he would just grip Aegon’s hips and rock their cocks together randomly.

“Not,,,not enough,” Aegon panted, leaning down further, his head now bowed towards Aemond’s shoulder to rub together harder.

“Oh? Did you need something specific?” There was only one thing, one thought or one fantasy that would get Aegon this riled up. Aemond felt his own cock start to leak. He suddenly gripped Aegon’s throat and squeezed, forcing his movements to stop.

Despite the dark he knew they were making eye contact and their dicks twitched in unison. “Tell me…tell me what you wish. It’s my duty to give you what you command to the best of my ability.”

Aegon’s answering moan was deep in the back of his throat. A raw, primal need. “I want-I *need* your child inside me.”

And the control Aemond had suddenly snapped, as Aegon knew it would. Aemond’s answering kiss was forceful and Aegon melted into it, allowing the other’s tongue into his mouth with relish. Aemond sucked on his tongue hard and then pushed him off.

It was easy to get Aegon into his favorite position. Sometimes Aemond thought Aegon enjoyed being fucked prone because of the way it made him feel helpless. At the mercy of his bigger, meaner, *younger* brother. One day he’d make him admit it.

Aemond reached into the nearest drawer for the jar of thick stuff he used to pleasure himself sometimes. That was what the maester’s only assumed it was for when he asked for it, they didn’t know it was also used for their new king to be prepared for cock.

Aegon was moaning openly, the pillow nearly strangled to death under his fists as Aemond massaged the stuff around his hole and began to press inside, Aemond hummed appreciatively as he bent to watch, pressing kisses to one cheek.

“Such a good boy Aegon…taking it so good. A bit tight though aren’t you? Perhaps you need more regular practice…” When Aegon moaned and pressed himself further on his slender finger Aemond grinned and give the soft ass cheek a harsh nip. “More practice it is.”

He kept up a delicate balance of soft humiliation and praise as he prepared him. Once three fingers had the King popping his ass up in need, his knees wide open but his cock still against the sheets Aemond nipped at the opposite cheek and then pulled his fingers out. He placed his heavy cock against the loosened hole and Aegon had a fully body shiver.

“You’re ready now aren’t you? Mmmm yes I can feel it…” Aemond leans down, kissing and licking up Aegon’s spine before nuzzling his nape clear of hair and giving it a kiss. He kisses it more, slowly, sucking softly and then biting just hard hard to leave little indents but not a bruise. “You’re a bitch in heat, and I’m going to give you what you crave,” he whispers, before pressing his wide tip inside.

Aegon clenches around him but then relaxes, knowing exactly what he has to do. “Gods,” he whimpers, “so good…nothing like it…more…?”

The sweet little question mark at the end made Aemond’s heart flutter and he pressed in further, his naked chest now against Aegon’s naked back fully and the skin on skin contact had them both groaning in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Aemond was fucking deep inside Aegon, his cock now sliding easily in and out, the his tip nudging that special spot that didn’t seem to have a name despite Aemond’s anatomical research. When he pushed it even further his fat tip slammed into it and Aegon had to have his face pressed into the feather pillow to quiet him.

“Shhhhhhh!” Aemond hissed between heavy pants. “Don’t want the guards to hear you do you? Don’t want the white cloaks knowing their King wishes he could carry a child do you? Mmm…we are gods though aren’t we? Perhaps the ancient blood magic in our veins will make it possible somehow…”

Aemond was in that frenzy he entered when he was close to spilling. Aegon was panting, mumbling with delirious happiness. He had cum already from the tightening Aemond has felt during a particularly rough few thrusts perhaps a full hour ago. Though Aemond may have better stamina Aegon could certainly take it.

“Yes, please,” Aegon panted, looking back at Aemond with that slack mouthed, near fucking *drooling* with pleasure look that drove Aemond crazy. Even if tomorrow Aegon called him names in front of his knights Aemond would think back to this moment and let it roll off him. Or perhaps he’d remember it, and use it against Aegon the next time this happened.

“Breed me, Aemond,” Aegon Targaryen’s second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm begged of his brother. His hands reaching behind him to spread his ass cheeks wider and allow the cock inside at a dizzying angle for them both.

Aemond nearly bit off his own tongue trying to stifle his cry as he came, pressing as far as he could go inside Aegon and spilling everything he had. He collapsed on top of Aegon, who with a few more thrusts cried out into the pillow again as he spilled more onto the sheets. They throbbed in near unision, Aegon’s pulses causing his hole to tighten at the base of Aemond’s cock, milking him more.

It took awhile before their breathing returned to anything nearing normal, and Aemond pressed his lips close to Aegon’s ear before he pulled out. “You may call me your loyal hound, my King, but you’re my bitch in heat aren’t you?”

Aegon whined, nodded, and seeming to know Aemond would ask for words he whispered his assent in their mother tongue.

Aemond licked at the bite he’d given him on his neck, Then moved to the side to settle back in to sleep as the twilight of the early morning began to chase away the dark of the night.

“I must…get back to my chambers…” Aegon mumbled, half asleep already it seemed. Aemond pulled Aegon against his chest, spooning around him protectively and placing one hand on how softly rounded lower stomach. “no need…my door is barred. You can leave through the passage you came. Don’t worry, my dear, dear love. Our secret is safe.”

Aegon was snoring already. Aemond smiled, and fell asleep quickly. In the morning…they would try breeding again. He’d heard it was more likely to take the more you tried.

[liannafae]

Hahhhhahahahahhahaha babies

this is so aegond coded i’m physically unwell

[liannafae]

Another Aegond AU, thank you 🧎🏻‍♀️

Cloudless Moon, Summer Night

Pairing • Aemond x reader x Aegon, Aegon x Aemond

Tags • wedding night, threesome, p. in v. sex, sibling incest

Wordcount • 3,430

As you and your newly wedded husband Aemond struggle to consummate, you seek the help of his brother the King, witnessing their tormented relationship up-close.

Aemond Masterlist • Aegon Masterlist

But of all lovely things, she loved a cloudless moon on a summer night. —Charlotte Brontë

The moon was high beneath curtains of white clouds stretching against the dark background of the night sky, round and full. It was said to be an auspicious omen for fertility, and it had been praised as you were led to your marriage bed earlier in the evening. 

The young king Aegon had called for a bedding ceremony, but a sharp look from his brother, your newly wedded husband, had made him change his mind. 

Your engagement with the prince had been long, as the betrothal had been made at the start of the war, but it wasn’t until peace had been won with blood and dragon fire that you had finally wedded. 

However such a courtship had been short and curt, as the only time you had set eyes on him had been in your father’s halls as he was made to declare for King Aegon. Your intended had flown back to King’s Landing with your house’s banners behind him, and only an hour of supervised conversation with you—most of it had been talk of duty and the looming war.

Now, merely a fortnight after your arrival to the capital, you were wedded to the man you had been given to in exchange for your family’s advancement and a dragon to guard your father’s region. 

For all his confidence and intense presence in public, Aemond was shy and reserved in private, and even though you found an endearing tenderness in him, you were soon disheartened to realize that your wedding night would not be so easy.

Caged by his slim but firm arms, white curtains of silky strands falling on you, you hissed as the sting of one of his tentative thrusts, and Aemond pulled away, hiding his dejected sigh behind his long hair. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for the tenth time since the doors to your chambers had closed, closing your legs as he pushed himself up and away.

“The fault is not yours,” Aemond replied, and you could only be glad he didn’t seem inclined to blame you, or to force himself inside of you, pushing until your body yielded with great pain. 

You sat up, bringing your knees up to your chin, hugging them to your chest defensively, and it drained the last drops of arousal still lingering in Aemond’s stomach. 

He had never given the matters of consummation much thought; he knew it to be straightforward, and had believed he knew enough from his brother’s teachings to succeed, but he now realized bitterly that he had been a fool. 

For reasons he dreaded to consider, every attempt at breaching your maidenhead had failed, and he didn’t have the heart to make you bleed and cry. 

You had been patient and soft so far, but he could tell from the trembling of your hands that you struggled to keep your composure. He knew it was his role as husband to lead you, but he lacked the innate confidence of men in those matters, and your body was as a map he couldn’t decipher. 

“Do you think me deficient?” Aemond suddenly asked as he wrapped a robe around his shoulders, covering his slender frame. He sat across from you on the sheets, face still hidden in shame.

Your brow immediately furrowed at his question. “No, of course not,” you replied with a confounded smile.

You could not help but notice how he had gone soft again, and bitter tears rose to your eyes. It was the third time in the night that the both of you had tried to consummate—the first time it had failed, you had both put it on account of nerves and unfamiliarity, and had spent the next hour confiding in one another, sharing a few cups of wine in the hope that it would ease your difficulties.

However after the second attempt failed again, your body refusing to soften and let him in, and Aemond refusing to assert himself and push more than an inch. You had come to the conclusion that your marriage bed wouldn’t be as easy as you had been taught. 

You had been told that satisfying the desires of men could be burdensome and uncomfortable, yet now you were puzzled that such desires didn’t seem to come easy to your husband.

More wine had been drunk, and you had both spent a long moment side by side on the sheets, a hand between your own legs; you, trying to prod and push past the resistance Aemond didn’t have to heart to breach, and him trying to arouse himself to full hardness. 

Unfortunately, neither endeavors had worked, and your third attempt had been short-lived and utterly disheartening.

You swallowed your tears and summoned the last confidence you had, putting your shame aside and bringing back the dutiful words you had exchanged on the night of your betrothal.

“We have a duty to the realm, to my father and to your brother the king. There needs to be an heir to the alliance between our families,” you reminded him, hiding your own insecurities behind the screen of duty and solemn promises. “Throughout our recent courtship, I have noticed that matters of intimacy don’t come easily to you, and I want you to know that I don’t expect this match to become one of love.”

Aemond looked up at you, tilting his head and humming a silent question. “Is there anyone who could help? Is there a servant you trust?” you clarified, then licked your lips before adding. “Do you have a paramour, a confidant?”

Aemond felt himself flinch at the question, but he could not bring himself to speak the truth. “No,” he replied after too long a silence.

“You thought of someone. Have them summoned, it matters not to me,” you insisted, and while he was grateful for the grace with which you were dealing with the predicament, your offer did not ease the knot in his stomach.

“It is not someone that can be… summoned,” he said, hoping you would drop the offer.

“Is it your sister?” you asked after heavy contemplation. 

Aemond shook his head with a great sigh; in a way, it would have been easier if the person that had come to his mind had been Helaena. They shared a bond of unspoken trust and understanding, but it didn’t cross the line of desire. 

Aemond looked up at you, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear, but you couldn’t decipher his gaze.

“My brother,” he then admitted, his voice low. It was his darkest secret and perhaps his greatest shame, surpassing even his hatred of his missing eye. Aegon was as an overgrown limb, something he desperately wished to be rid off but that remained attached, irrevocably part of him.

He had always been eager to impress his family, his grandsire and father, his mother, and of course his older brother had been no exception. He was the eldest son, the heir, the golden child, and Aemond’s impressionable mind had been drawn to him in his early years. 

He loathed Aegon as much as he adored him, and that constant torment was a pillar of their relationship—sometimes tempers ran hot, and sometimes they were cold to one another, dismissive and biting, until the forced indifference turned to fury again.

As Aemond grew and his brotherly admiration turned into something else, it was always tainted by the knowledge that Aegon wasn’t his to desire. Even though there was no love between him and Helaena, a vow was still sacred, and he had no wish to defile it.

Furthermore, he knew the words of men who coveted others were called. Slurs and insults that stuck to their skin no matter where they went; he had heard enough of those sticking to Ser Laenor to want to avoid the same humiliation.

The more debauched Aegon grew, the more Aemond’s admiration turned sour in his stomach, still as bright as ever if only more confusing. There was nothing to love about his eldest, and yet he burned for his attention, for his approval.

“Then we shall go to him,” you replied after a moment of contemplative silence.

You jumped from the bed without another word and reached for a robe, wrapping it hastily around your shoulders and marching into the corridor decidedly. Aemond could only follow, his long strides catching up with you easily, his words stuck in his throat.

The guard standing vigil at the door looked at your bare feet with surprise, not even noticing your flushed face and disheveled hair. “The king has requested for us to come when it was done,” you said slowly, attempting to convey your meaning without expliciting. 

The guard allowed you in, and as the door closed behind you, you realized that in your haste, you hadn’t taken the time to think of how to breach the subject. “My king, we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time…”

Aegon gazed at you starting from your bare feet up to your flushed face, one of his hands propping him up on the mantle of the fireplace and the other one carrying a cup of wine to his lips. 

He was dressed in nothing but a robe that grazed the floor, tightened loosely at his hips, revealing his bare chest and legs—you could tell he was not wearing smallclothes, and you were afraid the slightest movement would reveal him.

“Drop the pretenses and the polite language. I know why you’re here,” he replied with a conniving smile and you sighed, your shoulders dropping. 

“You were expecting us?” you asked in confusion.

“I had expected my dear brother to knock upon my door under a false pretext, only to rush back out an hour later, declaring it to be the last time,” Aegon sighed with a chagrined smile before downing the rest of his wine. The dark red stained his lower lip before he licked it clean.

Beside you, Aemond shifted his weight. “I did not come here to be subjected to your jests,” he spat out, his hand reaching for the sleeve of your robe and pulling you along. “Let us go, I should not have indulged your idea.”

However you did not budge, but he was prepared to march back out on his own—he could never rid himself of the stench of his own sins, of the shame that came from how eager he was to please, especially on the nights Aegon was too drunk to tease him for it.

“Wait,” came the sharp yet gentle command, and Aemond froze, his profile standing out.

Aegon admired his slender frame that carried such lethal strength—he had often silently lamented it was Helaena born that was born with the cunt, and not his sweet, yet deadly little brother. They were a more harmonious match, their bond that of an incessant push and pull that bordered on flirtation as much as on violence. 

But a few hurried, silent touches was all Aemond allowed, and Aegon could not be sure if it stemmed from genuine desire or from envy—if Aemond desired him, or the blood of the first son that ran through his veins.

“Nyke urnēptre ao skorkydoso naejot gaomagon ziry, gōntan nyke daor? I showed you how to do it, didn’t I?” Aegon asked, intense. The High Valyrian didn’t seem to come as easily to him as it did your husband, but it still has its effect: Aemond seemed to coil in on himself as Aegon stepped closer to him in measured steps. “Nyke mirre ao istan sȳrī bodmagho. I made sure you were properly educated.”

“Īles daor drējī sȳz. It wasn’t exactly pleasant,” Aemond admitted, his eye snapping up even though his frame didn’t move an inch, as still as stone and braced for Aegon’s next move. “And you omitted that bedding a wife, a maiden, is quite different from a whore.”

“Gōntan nyke drējī ōdrikagon ao bona olvie? Nyke jeldan ao naejot sagon vala. Did I really trouble you that much? I wanted you to be a man,” Aegon inquired, speaking almost as though he was thinking aloud.

“Hae lo vala hae ao iksin mirros naejot jurnegon bē tolī. As if a man like you was something to look up to,” Aemond retorted.

Aegon laughed at that, reaching to push Aemond’s hair away. “Bona ōdrikagon, lēkia… yn kesīr iksā, iepagon ñuha dohaeragon. That stings, brother… and yet here you are, asking for my help,” he grinned before turning around and gesturing to his rooms. “You’ve been here before, you know your way around my bed…” he then added in the common tongue. 

“Are you drunk?” Aemond hissed. 

“Undress,” Aegon said to you before taking a sip of wine, ignoring his brother's question. “How do you expect him to get it up if he can’t see you?”

While you were stunned by the king’s forward words, you knew he was correct. You stood at the foot of the bed, pulling your robe off and letting your shift drop to the floor in a soft puddle of cotton. 

“My, my…” Aegon whispered, leaning against the bedpost. You shivered under the king’s appreciative gaze but didn’t hide yourself, instead reached for his goblet and took a sip of the dark liquid. 

“All your hours of training have certainly paid off, brother,” he said, looking over your shoulder, and as you turned you realized Aemond had unclothed as well, his robe draped over a chair. 

Aemond preened under his brother’s scalding gaze as he stepped up to you, and you were both glad to fall into one another, distracting yourselves from Aegon’s scrutiny with a deep kiss. 

He was seemingly emboldened by Aegon’s eyes on him, his lips crushing your harder and his tongue prodding yours with more intent. He was more relaxed in the king’s presence than he had been alone with you, and you welcomed his passion. 

Aegon’s hands traveled along your curves as you kissed, making you flinch before you melted back into Aemond’s arms, his hands on your waist. He marveled at the difference between your suppleness and Aemond’s hard edges, his protruding bones and your inviting curves. The young king bit his lip as he watched Aemond’s cock fill slowly, pressed against your soft abdomen. 

“Just tip her backwards,” he commented, and Aemond rolled his eye but complied. 

Aegon watched as Aemond flattened you to the bed, then followed, kneeling on the sheets at your side. His hand roamed up and down Aemond’s back, in his hair, as he found his place in the cradle of your thighs. Aegon’s mouth dropped open slightly as both Aemond and you looked between your bodies, then reached to bring yourselves together. 

“Not yet,” Aegon stopped you.

He laid down next to you, looking up at Aemond—his robe had fallen open, revealing his own hard cock resting against his thigh. You traced the fullness of his pink lower lip with your eyes as he spoke. 

“She’s not ready. She’s a maiden, which means her body won’t welcome you in quite so easily…” he explained, you supposed for your sake as well, and you ground back against Aemond instinctively, feeling him twitch against your core. 

“Ilagon. Lay down,” he ordered, but you didn’t have the time to wonder what the words meant as Aemond stretched his lithe form next to yours. You found yourself bracketed by the two brothers, and Aegon’s gentle hand on your knee forced you to splay your thighs wider, exposing you to both their gazes and touches. 

“Give me your hand,” Aegon prompted, and soon he was pressing Aemond’s forefinger at your core. You squirmed, oversensitive, and the touch lightened. 

“Konīr iksis iā dīnagon rȳ se bē, paktot skoriot zirȳla ñelly rhaenagon. There’s a spot at the top, right where her folds meet,” he said, throwing a glance at your face as he guided his brother expertly. The High Valyrian seemed to be a comfort to Aemond, who was growing more assured. “Emā naejot shifang skorkydoso ziry hae sȳrje. Paez iā adere, bē se ilagon, iā isse byka renigon … You’ve got to figure out how she likes it best. Slow or quick, up and down, or in small circles…” 

As he guided Aemond, their fingers slowly teasing a heat within your core; he tucked his face in your neck, and Aemond mirrored him. You could only throw your head back as they both sucked kisses into your skin, Aegon’s mouth quickly leaving your neck for Aemond to enjoy alone, instead moving on to your breasts. 

“That’s it, fuck…” he whispered before sucking one of you buds into his mouth. 

You closed your eyes, your hips slowly falling into the rhythm of their joined hands. For a while the room faded and there was nothing to the world but the heat of their mouths on your skin and the pressure of their fingers at your core. Your skin burned with it, shudders wracking your frame. 

“Renigon skorkydoso lōz issa sir. Feel how wet she is now,” he added, dipping a finger between your folds. Aemond grunted, gently rocking up against you, and you felt his hard length against your side. 

“Aemond,” you moaned, turning your head to crush your mouth to his once again. He didn’t break the kiss as he slid back between your thighs, Aegon retracting his hand to fit it at Aemond’s back, still wet with your desire. 

Aegon pressed his forehead to Aemond’s temple, looking down where his brother’s cock was pressing at your entrance, then pushed forward easily. “Gentle thrusts,” he guided.

Aemond sighed in relief as he felt your body finally yield, welcoming him inside. You winced slightly, a victorious smile on your lips nonetheless—the sting was muted this time, and the stretch that followed was a welcome distraction. 

Aemond followed the gentle pushes of Aegon’s hand on his lower back, and soon you were rocking up into him. Caught between the vice of your cunt and the warm pressure of Aegon’s palm, slowly drifting from the small of his back to the curve of his ass, Aemond’s head spun. 

“It’s good,” you sighed, encouraging him.

“That turn you on, fucking in front of the king?” Aegon asked with a grin, and Aemond swallowed your answering moan. 

Without asking for permission to touch you, he slid his hand to your pearl, where you and Aemond were pressed together, and his boldness incensed you. 

“Gaomā sīr sȳz … ūndegon skorkydoso issa kreni, skorkydoso ziry obūljagon zirȳla arlī. You’re doing so good… see how she flushes, how she arches her back,” he said, and the rolling vowels of High Valyrian made you shudder even though you didn’t understand it. The words seemed to spur Aemond on as your hips started to grind up into his hand, clenching around your husband’s cock. “Iksan mirrī isse jaelagon. I’m a bit jealous,” he added, and you felt Aemond’s pace quicken.

“Ao jorrāelagon bona, drēje, naejot qogralbar aōha dārys? You’d love that, wouldn’t you, to fuck your king?” Aegon asked next, and as your eyes fluttered open, you saw the question was being pressed into Aemond’s temple—your husband turned his head, leaning into his brother, the young king pulling at his own cock in rhythm with your coupling.  

Heat ran up down your spine, pooling at your core, as you saw Aemond’s lips part for Aegon, their mouths crushed together eagerly. They kissed with the hunger from years of repressed desires and unsaid words, and the forbidden sight was almost enough to trigger your undoing. 

“Let’s finish her, before we get carried away,” Aegon decided as he pulled away for breath. 

The edge was rapidly approaching and you were powerless to stop it; it was under your husband and your king’s hooded gazes that you were swept away by your peak. You clenched around Aemond’s cock as your core pulsed, your back arching off the bed. 

“That’s it, Aemond,” Aegon groaned, his grip tightening on his brother’s ass. 

Aemond panted his pleasure in Aegon’s mouth when his peak took over, shuddering in the cradle of your hips. As soon as he stopped shaking, Aemond pulled away from your body and turned his attention to his brother. Aegon was dazed as his own hand quickened between his legs, his look stunned when he felt Aemond shove him backwards into the bed. 

“Aem,” Aegon whined as his brother’s long fingers, still tacky with your earlier pleasure, wrapped around his cock and picked up his frantic rhythm. Aegon cursed and keened as he spilled, pulsing hotly over Aemond’s hand. 

Aemond fetched a wet cloth as you stretched your pliant body, your skin shivering with delight; you buried yourself into the rumpled sheets. Aegon laid beside you, running curious fingers along your curves, then dipping into the warmth where his brother’s spent was slowly dripping out. 

You made a noise of protest, oversensitive, and Aemond pressed a soothing kiss to your lips as he climbed to lay at your other side. 

Slumber lured you into its warm arms, and the plusher pillows of the king’s bed welcomed your heavy, loose limbs. As you drifted away, you heard Aegon murmur to Aemond. 

“You’ll bring her back to my bed, won’t you?” he inquired, a touch of desperation to his voice. 

“Hm,” came the answering sound. “Or perhaps you shall come to ours, if she wishes.”

“Eman dōrī ūndegīon bona paktot hen ao gō. I’ve never seen that side of you before,” the young king said with marvel, and you felt Aemond twitch against you. Your fluttering eyes watched as he drew mindless circles on Aegon’s hip, his arm resting across your belly. 

“Kessa ziry mazverdagon ñuha dārys biare naejot ūndegon ziry arlī? Would it please my king to see it again?”

“Daorun kessa mazverdagon nyke tolī biare. Nothing would please me more,” he said and if Aemond answered, it was lost to the darkness that pulled you under, the round, cloudless moon watching over your entwined bodies.

Dividers by @/saradika

A huge collective thank you to the lovely people who helped with this request; thank you to @themoonofthesun for brainstorming Aegon and Aemond's relationship with me; and thank you to @zaldritzosrose and @arcielee for beta reading ♡

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading. Comments and likes are equally appreciated.

Aegon and Aemond Taglist 1: @snowystark @qyburnsghost @darkenchantress @itscatlien-blog @castellomargot

@cardi-bre91 @avengingangelfanfic @malfoytargaryen @mari0302 @iamfandomnerd

@hb8301 @pasta-rask @chattylurker @svtansdaddyx

@its-sam-allgood @amarillys92

[liannafae]

My baby boys, I miss them being together ❤️❤️😍😍🫂🫂

Glytchell 🤍🤍🤍

[liannafae]

For real

Anyway I’ll say it again.

[liannafae]

It is actually laughable at this point.

hotd purposefully making all the greens look incompetent af to highlight how great their TB protagonists are in return backfires so hard it's actually funny.

in the book the greens were a powerhouse, they had the best warrior, the bigger army, great political minds on their side, the bigger dragons and strong competent riders to ride them. they were a threat. the show making them all stupid makes rhaenyra & the rest of tb look so weak and stupid in return. like you can't even win against those guys? really? also it shows how rhaenyra is a poorly written character - it is necessary to ruin other characters like alicent, aegon, daemon and aemond for her to appear smart & capable.

[liannafae]

I just woke up and saw the light of the day, baby welcome home. Oh my gosh, the hair, the suit and the piercing. Holy hell, I am not walking 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🚑🚑🚑🚑🚑🚑🚑💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

[liannafae]

Husband

boyfriend.

[liannafae]

That's my baby girl 😚😚💅🏻💅🏻✨✨✨

MEN OF THE YEAR 2O24 EWAN MITCHELL

[liannafae]

My baby Osferth, you are so loved and missed by me 😭😭😭🫂🫂🫂💕💕💕

Osferth (Ewan Mitchell) from "The Last Kingdom" Season 4 from the Blu-ray 'making of' video.

[liannafae]

I just discovered a new gem, thank you so much for this. Please I need more chapters 😭😭😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 is with your 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 18+, MDNI PAIRING: Fem!Aegon x Aemond, established relationship, targcest

Story summary: In an alternative timeline, set during the events of 1.08 (Lord of the Tides). What would the story look like had Aegon been born a woman, and Aemond was Alicent's heir? Well, as it turns out, Aegon is very much the same lecherous fool, but the difference is that the consequences are far more devastating, and Aemond is determined to remind his sister of her place in his life. Word count: 13,963 (not sorry) Cross Posted on Ao3

Credits: Title inspired by: Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann (Lost Boys Theme), cover art and fem!aegon edits made by me. Dividers not by me, I can't seem to find the original poster anymore. Story tags: Slow Burn (suffer for your smut), enemies to lovers, hate that I love you, established relationship, targcest (siblings, uncle/niece), angst, unrequited feelings, toxic relationships, yearning, jealousy, mxf, fxf, brother x sister, uncle x niece, master x servant.

Content warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, gender bent canon character, brief canon violence, angst, misogyny, slut shaming, targcest (brother/sister, uncle/niece), Aemond frequently calls her his sister, infidelity (everyone?), breastfeeding, creepy uncle behaviour, mention of underage 'fooling around', mentions of sex work and brothels, pregnancy mention, unwanted pregnancy, allusions to abortion (via moon tea!), post partum depression, withholding child from parent, labour pains and blood, abusive parent, verbal abuse, physical abuse (a slap), dubcon (power imbalance, and alcohol), toxic relationships, alcoholism, typical canon tw's. There are no good people here.

MOOD SPOILERS BELOW

P+V, sexual tension, breeding kink, cream pie, lactation kink, ass worship, breast worship, targcest, fingering, pussy grabbing, hickeys, degradation, allusions to anal, rough sex, hair grabbing/pulling, bending her around like a pretzel, oral (f receiving), over stimulation, orgasm repression, bit of spanking, edging, man handling, rimming with finger, clothes ripping, mirror sex, various positions.

“Get up,” Alicent’s sharp voice cut through her eldest child’s peaceful slumber like an executioner’s axe. Though her daughter did not move, did not show a moment of acknowledgement of her presence. “Aenys!”

Again, no response. This, of course, successfully pushed Alicent to the point of frustration. The Queen ripped off the sheets that covered her daughter, displaying her nude form to the room. That was when Aenys finally stirred, her eyes covered by a curtain of dishevelled white-gold hair. 

Aenys sighed, grabbing her sheets back to cover her body, then promptly rolled over, “Mother.... What is it?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep as she turned to snuggle back into her pillow.

“‘What is it? What is it, what is it?’ Is that all you can say for yourself?” Alicent leaned over the bed like a vulture ready to pick at a corpse. 

“Has something happened?” Aenys’ voice was muffled by her pillow, though her tone still successfully conveyed her disinterest. Her eyes were closed as she tried to chase back the dream she was having; she was naked on Sunfyre, flying while someone was pressed against her back, their hand cupping her mound and rubbing her pearl deliciously.

Alicent looked upon her incredulously and with barely contained fury. How could Alicent produce such a creature? Her own daughter, her first born, with beautiful violet eyes, bright white-blonde hair and the sweetest face. She was everything Alicent was not, and the Queen had absolutely no idea where she went wrong with her. 

“Ser Willis Fell,” The knight’s name was stressed through Alicent’s teeth. 

“Hm?”

“Ser Willis Fell, one of your father’s sworn guards,” Alicent stared at Aenys in disbelief. The Princess remained buried in her pillows. “Oh, for gods’ sake. Aenys, the Kingsguard that you coerced into breaking his vows.”

Aenys groaned in frustration, arching her back as she stretched out across her bed like a cat, “Oh, it was just harmless fun. He didn’t need much coercing either, he was very willing.” Aenys rubbed the butts of her palms into her eyes as she rolled onto her back, her shoulder length hair fanned around her in messy tendrils. 

Alicent gaped down at Aenys’ audacity, “Think of the shame you brought me. Think of the shame you bring to your husband, Aenys. Do you not realize how dangerous it is for you to fraternize with other men? You not only cuckold your husband, but you risk getting pregnant with a bastard!”

Aenys scoffed as she cracked open her eyes to blurrily glare up at her mother, her frustration growing with every passing second that she wasn’t allowed to sleep. “I am not some unseasoned mare, mother, I know how to prevent such accidents,” Aenys swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sheets bunching up around her waist while her breasts hung broadly displayed, littered with love marks from last night’s tryst. “Besides, what me and Ser Willis did, there was definitely no way we could have conceive—” 

Alicent slapped her hard across the face. The clap echoed in the bedchamber, shocking them both into a silence that deafened them. Aenys’ face was sharply turned away from her, her cheek stinging with her mother’s love, her eyes bleeding fresh salty tears. Alicent breathed heavily through her nose, staring daggers into her daughter’s profile. Only a flicker of regret passed by her brown doe eyes before it was quickly replaced with contempt. She bent down so she was at Aenys’ eye level. 

“You are no daughter of mine.”

“I’m sorry, my Princess, but he refused to latch. He’s been crying all morning,” Joy was bouncing the screaming baby up and down in her arms, trying to calm him down. Her large breast was exposed, showing that she had just recently tried another attempt at getting the babe to latch onto her. 

Aenys rubbed her furrowed brow as she approached the two of them, and then mutely picked up her son from the wetnurse’s arms. “That’s because he is the blood of the dragon,” she holds her son to her bosom as she walks over to an armchair and sits down, “And therefore has a refiner pallet. Isn’t that right, Aerys? My boy is an Arbor Red man.” 

Aenys cooed at her youngest son while she unlaced her bodice with her free hand and pulled her arm out of her dress so she could release her breast with ease. It did not take much for the babe to latch on, successfully silencing him. Aenys hummed contently at the sight, her hands moving along the crown of his silver-haired head, and then relaxed into her seat. 

Joy seemed utterly relieved as she tucked herself back into her dress. Her fingers went to massage her temples where her headache had taken root due to the hours of Aerys’ unrelenting screaming. “He misses you, my Princess,” the wetnurse said with a tender voice. “They both do.” 

Aenys swallowed thickly as she stared down at Aerys, her second child, the spare to her husband’s heir. He had only been born two months ago, yet it felt like years. Much like when she had given birth to her first, when the sex was identified as a boy, her son was swiftly taken away from her and into the breast of the wetnurse, Joy. When her first was born, Aenys had cried throughout the first night.On the second she marched through the corridors demanding to see her son; a trail of blood from her healing cervix following her angry strides. They only complied because she was making a scene, but she was never alone with him. Either her grandsire, mother, wetnurse or his father was present.

She wasn’t stupid. Nor was she deaf. Aenys could hear their whispers when they think she isn’t listening, or too drunk to pay attention. They do not see her as a fit mother, they think she’ll accidentally kill her children in some drunken escapade, or just from negligence or ignorance. When her eldest got older, when he started talking, she saw less and less of him. His father didn’t want Aenys to influence him. He needed his heir to be perfect; groomed to be the epitome of Targaryen excellence, something that Aenys was very much not.

As Joy went about the room to clean up, to change the sheets in Aerys’ crib, Aenys spent the entire time in silence. She just watched her son latching on her nipple, the sounds of his sighs and suckles sending a wave of calm throughout her body that felt inherently natural. His large purple eyes were starting to flutter close, exhausted after hours of being denied his right to his mother’s breast. Aenys’ finger grazed the apple of her son’s cheek, feeling the dampness of the tears he had shed. She couldn’t help but feel the sting of resentment towards her family; it was their fault that her babe was famished to the point of screaming. If they had simply let her be with him, to let him nurse off of her in the first place, it never would have happened.

The sound of the door handle turning snatched her attention. There was no knock, no announcement from a Kingsguard, it was just him walking in as if he were already king. 

Aemond’s eye landed on her instantly– Well, more specifically on her tit in their son’s mouth. Her milky white mound was decorated with fading bruises of love marks from her previous lover, evidence of her infidelity that he was well aware of anyway. The fact that she was having their son nurse from the same breast that another man was nursing from surely twenty-four hours ago made his gut churn with disgust. 

And yet… The sight of her nursing made his black heart thump uncomfortably. 

He sharply turned away from the sight, displaying the profile of his taut jaw where she could see the muscle of his cheek twitch from the strain.

“Where is Aegon?” He questioned sharply, his hand still on the door handle, conveying that he had no intention of lingering.

“I thought he was with you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her hands holding onto Aerys a little more tightly as if he was going to snatch him away from her. 

“He is with Maester Orwyle, my Prince,” Joy is quick to answer before the two parents could fret over the whereabouts of their child. “He is learning his numbers today.”

 Aemond hums and is about to leave, but Aenys is quick to ask him what he needed him for. 

“It is time for him to learn how to use a sword,” Aemond’s answer doesn’t surprise Aenys in the least bit, but it does make her give him a look of incredulity. 

“Use a swor–? Aemond, he just turned six,” She shook her head at him.

“And? Six is a fine age to begin sparring,” he turned back to her, his eye trained to her face deliberately. “The earlier he begins, the more skilled of a warrior he will become when he is older.” 

Aenys rolled her eyes with a scoff, “Aemond, he is too small to lift up a training sword–.”

“How would you know what my son is capable of?” His words cut her deeply. It was a well placed shot straight to her chest that snapped her lips shut, but only for a moment. 

The creases between her brows deepened, “I am his mother.” 

Aemond nearly laughed at that, “You were his mother for nine months. A wetnurse for two weeks, and then a stranger for the rest. Do not presume to know what is best for my heir, Aenys. Not when you do not even know what is best for yourself.” 

Her husband and brother left absolutely no room for her to respond. Aemond dismissed himself with a flourish of his pin straight hair and a bang of the door. 

Aenys pulled Aerys tighter against her bosom, her head bowed over the crest of his warm scalp, and her eyes tightly shut. Fresh tears fall on the babe’s face, but they do not belong to him. 

The arrival of Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and their brood came with much noise. It was no friendly family reunion, but a necessary arrival to preserve their bastard sons’ inheritance. Vaemond Velaryon would be arriving soon to petition the line of succession to the Heir of Driftmark in the anticipation of Lord Corlys’ possible death. With King Viserys still abed, mind addled with milk of the poppy, and decomposing with every passing day, the petition would be presided by the Lord Hand and the Queen Regent. 

Aenys couldn’t care about anything less. She knew the weight of the petition; if Lucerys loses his inheritance, it would be due to his legitimacy, which would in turn put Jacaerys’ legitimacy into question. Which is ultimately what Alicent and Otto want, but that would not change Viserys’ line of succession. The crown will go to Rhaenyra upon the King’s death, and when Rhaenyra is Queen she could just simply legitimize her sons, or make her eldest son with Daemon her heir. It changed nothing, no matter how much Alicent, Otto, and Aemond delusion themselves into thinking that this petition would. 

She was three cups of wine in when her uncle found her laying on a lounger beneath the domed roof of a stone gazebo, nestled in the heart of the royal gardens. Aenys was watching in mild amusement as a plain pigeon attempted to do his courtship dance to a much fancier female. Her feathers were mostly white, not quite a dove, given the grey feathers around her neck and the beautiful iridescent sheen they held. She was not at all impressed by the male.

“Well, if it isn’t little Aenys,” Daemon’s monotonous drawl was enough to pull her attention away from her pigeons. Her uncle’s tall willowy figure blocked the sun that was peaking through the shrubs and trees, making him look like a shadow. She could still see him tilt his head at her, “Bit early to be that well into your cups, don’t you think? Particularly for a princess.” 

The smirk on his lip conveyed he cared less than what his statement implied. 

“Are you going to tattle on me, uncle?” She slurped her wine noisily, which made his smirk widen. 

He didn’t answer her, instead he descended into an armchair situated at the feet of her lounger. His long legs sprawled out in front of him, his large hands resting on the arms, and his plum purple eyes roamed the length of her legs like a predator sizing up its potential prey. 

“You’ve grown up since I last saw you.” 

“That’s because I was three the last time you saw me.”

His smirk transformed into a wolfish grin. Daemon paused to look around at their setting, to the empty parepets that loomed overhead, to the loggia on the second floor that faced the garden’s direction, to the pigeon who was still trying fruitlessly with his courting dance. When he was satisfied with what he saw, or rather what he didn’t see, he leaned on his knees towards her. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

Aenys raised her eyebrows for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him. However, there was an expression of ease and intrigue upon her features, “Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere less polished. Less green.” 

A knowing and curly smirk dimpled her cheek, “Ah, the Lord of Flea Bottom wishes to return to his people. Fee ling sentimental for your own stomping grounds, uncle?”

That lecherous smirk barely wavered; if anything it amplified when his tongue flicked out to run along his bottom lip, “From what I’ve heard you have inherited and elevated the title in my absence. The Queen of Whores. Quite a step up from a lord.” 

At the mention of the title Aenys’ smirk flattened a bit and her eyes drifted away, “Hm, or a step down, some might say. Alas, I have not done my queenly duties these past few years.”

“Because you are married?” He asked this as if it isn’t a sufficient enough excuse. “From the rumours I hear, niece, that still does not deter you. I’ve noticed that my brother has one less White Cloak guarding him.”

“He broke his vows.”

“So did you.”

Aenys tapped her wine glass as she assessed Daemon, wondering what he was trying to achieve with this conversation. Taking a thoughtful sip, she tilted her head at him. 

“Are you suffering from bed death already, uncle?” Her question managed to enlist a bodily reaction from him. Daemon leaned back in his chair, his smirk flattening for a moment before returning the moment she continued. “Got bored with one niece and now trying to pursue the other?”

He chuckled at that, his hand running over his chin before resting it on his palm, his elbow placed on his knee. “Am I wrong to assume that you suffer the same affliction with your beloved husband?”

It was now his turn to pull a bodily reaction from Aenys. Her lips fell into a pout, and she shifted uncomfortably in her lounger; her left leg moved up as she shifted her bottom on the seat so she was sitting straighter, but in doing so her gown lifted just enough to expose her pale ankle. Daemon’s dark gaze found it in an instant. 

“I doubt my nephew meets your needs sufficiently, sweet niece,” his voice is a pur that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I would have suspected a woman with your…appetites would have more children by now. But I’ve noticed the age gap between your sons. Is that by design, I wonder? A well placed lemon top, or a convenient cup of moon tea? I imagine you’ve learned all sorts of tricks from the brothels you frequented.”

Aenys had been pregnant in between her sons, yes, but the father was not Aemond, and was swiftly taken care of by moon tea and several excruciating hours of heavy bleeding and a pain that rivalled active labour. It took years after Aegon’s birth to even convince Aemond to try for a spare– and as soon as Aerys was conceived, her brother stopped acknowledging her.

When she didn’t answer, Daemon was undeterred as he continued, “Mayhaps we can help each other.” His hand reached out the short distance to her ankle, using one long finger to draw lines on her exposed joint before trailing up her calf, moving along the hem of her dress. “And…should there be any consequence from it… None would be the wiser.”

Aenys’ eyes observe his ministrations, not even denying to herself that it was causing her loins to stir with longing. Her sex hungered for attention, even if it was not that long ago that she had a courtier’s head nestled between her thighs. However, there was nothing like a good cock rutting in and out of her like she was a mare in heat. Even more so when it is so forbidden and taboo. Not that he being her uncle was– no, bizarrely in their world that was normal, if not expected. She was, afterall, married to her younger brother and sired two children with him. What made it taboo was that they were both married, and their spouses were silently competing for a seat on the throne.

But something whispered in the back of Aenys’ mind, which sounded a lot like a conscience. It was enough to make her feel a bit queasy at the prospect of stepping over the line between her and Daemon. Maybe it was because she was a mother now, maybe it was the berating she suffered from her mother last morning, maybe it was because she hadn’t enough wine to shut off that little voice in her head. Or maybe it was because she felt the looming presence of a foreboding character lurking in the shadows, his blazing eye burning a hole into the back of her head. 

Aenys was getting out of the bath when Aemond barged into her living quarters. The sound of the door shuddering at the force of his body caused her poor maidservant to startle, effectively dropping the towel she was trying to wrap around her mistress. 

“Seven Hells, Aemond,” Aenys quickly snatched up her towel and wrapped up her nudity before she could even clocked the look he was giving her. That one lingering look with his one haunted eye that drank up the sight of her rear like a famished beggar. But that look was quickly wiped away and replaced with his ever present facade of antipathy. “Knock, for Mother’s sake.”

“Why?” He bit the question as he strode further into the room. The maidservant immediately knew that she wasn’t wanted, and swiftly curtsied before sprinting out of the room and hastily closing the door behind her. “I am your lord and your husband, I am entitled to this room and everything in it, including you. Or have you forgotten that after all these years?”

The last time Aemond felt ‘entitled’ to her rooms was nearly a year ago when they conceived Aerys, and even then he approached her door like it was the gates to the hells. The hypocrisy of his statement made her blink rapidly around the room in disbelief.

Clutching the knot of the towel at her chest, she widened her stance in preparation for a verbal altercation. “No less than you have forgotten, husband. You haven’t darkened my doorstep for elven moons.”

He strode closer to her until all that remained between them was the cooling copper tub and the milky water that remained swirling around. It smelt like vanilla and lemon, with just a hint of mint leaves. An aroma that was very distinctively Aenys; one that he had come to loathe and crave like a bad habit that he was actively trying to detox from.

“And that gives you a right to do as you please? Your debauchery when we were younger was bad enough, Aenys, but now your lecherous behaviour has gotten out of hand.”

“Now? Now it’s gotten out of hand?” With one hand clutching the towel, the other waved around in exaggerated movements. “I was worse before we wed, Aemond. I have been trying to be good… But it’s never good enough, is it? Nothing I do is ever good enough.”

His hands braced the edge of the tub as he peered at her like she was speaking maddening nonsense, “This is you trying?”

“I have not set foot in Flea Bottom in years, have I not?”

“That changes absolutely nothing! You’ve just changed your hunting grounds, setting your sights on honourable guards, servants, and weak-willed courtiers like the succubus that you are.”

Aenys scoffed dismissively at this, “Oh, do not look down upon me as if you are any better, Aemond. At least I do not skulk in the dark when I commit my sins.”

“What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?”

“I am aware of your little visits to Madam Sylvi’s, Aemond,” Aenys crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the towel firmly against her aching breasts. “I would have found it sweet that you still lie with your first – might’ve even been flattered that it is the same whore that I bought for you as a name day present after all these years, but your shocking display of hypocrisy is offensive. I am not the only adulterer in this marriage, Aemond.”

Aemond stared at her with the full capacity of his fury. His shame for his indulgences in the arms of Madam Sylvi was enough of a burden for him to bear, but the fact that Aenys knew about it was something he could not accept. It would be one thing if it was his mother that had learned of it, but with Aenys, it was a different story. She led the entourage of his childhood tormentors, taking pleasure in emphasizing how little, dragonless and weak he was at the time. And now… Sylvi was his only weakness he allowed himself, and Aenys fucking knew about her. 

He rigidly straightened up and strode purposely around the tub, each step calculated and predatory. “I am your husband, Aenys, and therefore you are my property by law, not the other way around. What I do to seek out my pleasures is none of your fucking business.” He is towering over her now, crowding her space, making her step back until her thighs meet the edge of an accent table flushed against the wall. “But what you do, wife, is my business. You made vows to me, Aenys, in holy matrimony, to serve only me, your lord and husband!”

Having Aemond this close was making her knees weak, but Aenys wasn’t a simpering lap dog that rolled over in the presence of a larger one. 

“I did not ask for this, Aemond!” She shouted, her chin lifted in defiance. “I did not ask to be your wife! If there is anyone to blame for your predicament, it is mother, not me!”

“Believe me, sister,” He seethed through clenched teeth, his eye turned black by the vast void of his widened pupil. Aemond stretched his neck forward, leaning so was nose to nose with her. “I rue the day mother told me that you would be my wife. I would have never chosen such an unworthy woman for the title. It should have been Helaena. It should have always been Helaena.” 

Aenys’ nostrils flared at his words; each one was like a dagger sinking another inch deeper into her chest. The mention of Helaena sent a wave of insecurity through her gut, making her eyes sting and her nose to twitch. Helaena was the daughter that Alicent always wanted; delicate, kind, soft-hearted, beautiful in such an effortless way that she did not even need to wear extravagant gowns and bold jewelry for people to notice it. Alas the greatest sin Helaena had was being born second to Aenys. With her fragile mind, she was moved to Oldtown to live with Daeron, until a suitable betrothal is made for her. A decision that Alicent freely admits was a mistake, particularly to Aenys, when she reminds her eldest of how undeserving she was of the things freely given to her. Undeserving and unworthy. 

Unworthy. She was unworthy.

Unworthy of being a wife. 

Unworthy of being a mother. 

Unworthy of being a daughter. 

Unworthy of love. 

“If you hate me so much Aemond, then just leave me be,” Her lips twitched as she said this through clattering teeth and a taut jaw.

“I wish I could,” his voice came out a little softer than the tone he had used seconds before. But the softness quickly dissipated when he reached out and grabbed her face, his fingers sinking into her cheek possessively. “But your infidelity has shamed me enough, Aenys. The Realm already laughs in my fucking face over you cuckolding me at every turn. Thank the Seven that our sons look like me, because if there was even a whisper about their legitimacy, Aenys, my claim to the Throne would be just as weak as Rhaenyra’s. And it would be entirely your fault.”

Despite the grip he had on her face, she scoffed at him, a derisive little smirk split her cheek, “Do you still believe that you will be king, Aemond?” The question effectively made his eye flash fiercely. “Father had twenty-one years to name you heir, and he didn’t. He still steadfastly declares Rhaenyra his heir–” 

“Shut your whore mouth,” He pinched her face viciously, pulling it closer to him, making her body press against the lithe structure of his form. Aenys immediately reached up and clung to his elbows, but not entirely understanding if she did to push him off or pull him closer. 

“I am no whore, brother,” She twisted her face out of his grasp. “Whores get paid–”

Suddenly his other hand was on her again, but this time it was nestled between her thighs, cupping her mound harshly. Tendrils of electricity crawled along the surface of her skin, blooming from that centered point. The touch of his warm palm, pressing against her labia just above her pearl made her thighs quiver. The feel of the pad of his finger on her slit made her hips involuntarily buck into him. Her sex ached for his penetration, as evidenced by her slick essence dampening her curls. 

“No, you’re a curse. My curse,” his nostrils flared as his eye seared into her face, devouring every tremble of muscle he caused. He seeked to dig the knife deeper, to make her feel his hatred for her. To remind her of her place, to break her spirit. It was what she deserved for all that she did to him. He plunged and curled his fingers into her, causing her to gasp and arch her back into him. Aemond did not move his digit, just kept her there like a fish on a hook. 

“Aemond–” She put her hands on his shoulders, not pushing him away, but anchoring herself to him. In doing so, the towel around her body loosened, her breasts were painfully pressed against him, likely leaking with milk. She breathed hard, her heady desires rising rapidly at his rare touch. 

Even during the whopping two times they coupled, Aemond was not nearly this lascivious with her. At most, he had rubbed her clit and fingered her for a minute or two just so it made his descent inside her easier for both of them. He always took her from behind, always kept her face pressed against the mattress so he wouldn’t look at her. 

But he was looking at her now, with knuckles deep in her cunt, showing his claim to his property. The heat that bloomed in her chest and core blotted out her anger towards him, and Aenys eagerly showed him how much she wanted him by rolling her hips into his hand, encouraging him to pleasure her. “Aemond– please, I need–”

Aemond had nearly broken and bent like a weak-willed man. The crotch of his breeches were already tight, and now the laces strained against the thickening of his cock underneath. But something snapped awake in him, reminding him of who he was lusting for. Aenys, the bane of his existence, the great Whore of King’s Landing. He pulled away from her in an instant like she had just burned him with an iron poker. The hand that was buried inside stretched and curled at his side as if he had just touched something vile. 

The towel crumpled on the floor, her vanity exposed, making it look like the trembling body of a wounded doe, waiting to be killed. The hurt of rejection was clear upon her face, with wide eyes and quivering lips. 

He still had the knife, he still wanted to drive it home into her heart. Aemond wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt him over the span of their marriage, over the span of their childhood. 

“You are merely a duty, Aenys. One that was thrusted upon me against my will, and being the loyal son that I am, I accepted this fate without complaint,” He turned away from her, keeping her on his blind side as if the very image of her naked form repulsed him… Or weakened him. “That is all this marriage is. The gods were merciful enough to grant me two heirs from you, and I see that as a fulfillment of my duty. I need nothing more from you.” 

With that he strode around the tub, his steps quicker than his usual gait. His fingers still flexed at his side before he reached for the door to see himself out, but before he did, he paused. Aemond looked down, slowly reached for something in his pocket, then turned back to her. 

Aenys stood there, crestfallen, her head bowed, making her damp hair a curtain around her face like limp strands of white seaweed. She had her arms folded around her chest, her knees were slightly caved in the middle as she tried to hide her pelvic region. His jaw slacked at the sight of her, and a flicker of regret passed his features like dust in the wind. The hickies were still on her chest, splotches of yellowed skin with purple hues at the center, reminding him why she did not deserve his pity. 

“Here,” Aemond growled. With his thumb, he flicked something in her direction. It sang in the air before landing with a noisy clank, and then rolled on the hardwood floor before it clattered to a stop. When Aenys’ eyes flickered to it, her brow furrowed. It was a single copper star coin. 

“That’s all you’re worth.”

Then, he was gone with the slamming of the door. The singing of the coin still rang in her ears, along with the chanting of voices saying over, and over again: 

Unworthy. 

Unfit.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Whore. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It happened so incredibly fast that Aenys was tugged violently back into sobriety. 

Two days passed since the argument with Aemond, and she had not seen him at all since. It was not like she was seeking him out, but his avoidance felt more like a conscious effort rather than a coincidence. Even when Aenys visited Aegon in the library while he was learning the geography of Westeros, Aemond was vacant for the entire lesson. Which was strange, since Aemond liked to be a part of Aegon’s lessons, often shadowing the Maester or replacing him altogether to ensure that his son was getting a proper education.

When Aenys did see Aemond, it was during Vaemond’s petition.

The petition started off dull and boring, at least to Aenys, even when she was already four cups of Arbour Gold in. She stood there with her hands laced in front of her, rocking on the balls of her feet, wishing she was in the Dragon Pit with Sunflyre, the only living soul that seemed to care about her. She wasn’t paying a lick of attention to what Vaemond was saying – he gave a long speech about Velaryon blood and yada yada yada. At one point Rhaenyra cut him off to defend her son’s blood status, which was quickly shut down by the Queen. 

It didn’t really get that interesting until the doors opened and the broken and hollow footsteps of King Viserys forced everyone into a stunned silence. Aenys and Aemond watched with baited breath as the ailing King hobbled over to the dais of the Iron Throne unaided. His crown fell from his head, which was quickly scooped by his rogue brother. Daemon helped his brother into his throne and then gently placed the gold crown back upon his head with such tenderness, it was easy for Aenys to forget her uncle's reputation. Easy to forget the proposition he offered her days ago.

It was easy to believe that deep down, he might have actually been a good man. And Aenys’ heart ached in envy over her half-sister’s luck to have such a husband at her side. Infidelity aside, Daemon had not once displayed disinterest to his wife since they arrived. They reared their children together, they walked together, shoulder to shoulder, they conversed normally without argument. It begged the question as to why he propositioned Aenys in the first place…

But when he turned away from Viserys to join his family, Daemon caught her eye. Then Aenys fundamentally realized something: She reminded him of not only himself, but of the girl Rhaenyra used to be.

Then something utterly bizarre happened in that same exact moment when Daemon strode past her. She felt Aemond shift closer to her side; the heat of his body near unbearable, given the cold shoulder he had been giving her their entire marriage. Then she felt his arm slither around her waist, his fingers digging into the meat of her hip. Aenys’ brow furrowed, then she slowly turned to Aemond with a budding snarl on her lip. However, Aemond wasn’t looking at her; he was too busy glaring at their uncle’s retreating back. 

After that moment, all hell broke loose; Rhaenys spoke for her husband and Viserys declared the matter being settled. Lucerys would keep his inheritance, even though anyone with eyes knew it was unjustly deserved. However Vaemond was not fixed to roll over that easily. 

The words “Bastard” and “Whore” echoed in the Throne Room, and Aenys felt herself flinch as if they were directed at her. Though it wasn’t, they were directed at her half-sister, Rhaenyra. Who arguably out of the two sisters was the least whore-ish of all, and yet the consequences of her affair with a single man were regarded far more viciously than the lecherous reputation Aenys harboured. 

But would that be her fate if she gave birth to bastards? If her current sons weren’t Aemond’s, or even just failed to look like him at all? Would she be standing there in Rhaenyra’s place, pleading for everyone to believe that her sons were legitimate? 

Vaemond’s head was chopped in half. His body slumped, the top half of his skull slipped off with a squelch of blood and flesh as his tongue flopped out of his bottom half. 

“He can keep his tongue.” 

In the chorus of screams and gasps, Aenys’ reaction was no different to any other gently bred lady of the court. Her hands went flying to the sides of her face and she rushed to turn away. In her horror she didn’t even completely register Aemond’s arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest to shield her from the gruesome display. 

“Are you alright?” Aemond’s question was almost as queer as the tone he chose to speak it in. 

“I’m fine,” her eyes narrowed at him, her goblet of wine was cradled to her chest as if he was about to snatch it away from her. “Why?” Her voice was gritty and filled with suspicion and seven cups of wine. 

“I went to your quarters earlier; your guard told me you were adamant on not being disturbed,” he said it so cooly, Aenys was almost convinced that he actually cared. Even though she knew better to assume otherwise, the fact he had gone to her quarters at all (and to concede in her need to not be disturbed) felt incredibly out of character to him. 

“That’s because my maid was busy distracting me with her tongue in my cunt,” she sipped her wine casually, ignoring the flash of annoyance in Aemond’s eye. 

“Aenys–”

She scoffed at him before he continued. Their argument the other day was still fresh on her mind; his words echoed in her nightmares and branded itself to her insides. “Do not start, Aemond,” she rolled her eyes and waved her cup-bearing hand at him dismissively. “It is about time that you come to peace with my nature, just like I have come to peace with the fact that my name sounds a lot like ‘anus’. So in peace, in fact, that anal has become a speciality of mine–”

Aenys could sense his rise in outrage, but they weren’t alone in the small hall, so there was no room to react. Their entire family gathered around the table in anticipation of the King’s arrival so they could be seated for their family dinner. The first of its kind in many, many years. 

Before Aemond could grip her arm and pull her into some dark alcove to berate her, the doors opened and four guards came in carrying their ailing father on a litter. Slowly and one by one, people took their spots at the table, not sitting until the King was situated at the center.

The small hall was painfully quiet, even when King Viserys spoke, declaring that it brought him joy to see all of them at the table as one. Alicent led the dinner with a prayer, and everyone in the table complied by clasping their hands, some bowing their heads, some closing their eyes. Aemond had done both, making Aenys roll her eyes instead of closing them. She didn’t even bother clasping her hands; there was no point. The gods hated her, she was a sinner most foul. There was little dignity in pretending otherwise. 

After that, Viserys explained how the night was one of celebration, and went on to congratulate the betrothal of Jacaerys and Lucerys to their cousins and step siblings, Baela and Rheana. 

As everyone raised their goblets for a toast, Aenys couldn’t help herself but lean into Jacaerys’ side, her features mockingly soft and considerate. 

“Well done, Jace, you can finally put those skills I taught you to good use,” Aenys managed to keep her face straight when Baela sent her a sharp look. Jacaerys didn’t bother acknowledging her with a glance, instead he drank a generous helping of his wine, puckering his lips as he staved off the urge to make a sharp remark. 

As Viserys congratulated Lucerys for his preservation of his title, (The Lord of the Tides! Here, here!) Aenys caught Aemond’s eye. He was heatedly staring at her over the rim of his goblet, his jaw taut with agitation. The knowledge that Aenys and Jacaerys had done little experiments with each other in their mid teens was an open secret, at least between the four of them. It was a fact that Aemond was openly not fond of, though Aenys didn’t entirely understand why. She and him weren’t betrothed at the time, and as far as she was aware, her brother resented both her and Jacaerys equally during that era in their life. What with them and Luke being the primary villains in his childhood. 

Aenys turned back to Jacaerys, leaning against his chair by draping her arm on the back of it, crowding his space. 

“You do remember how the act is done, right? At least in principle, seeing as we never got around to sticking your cock in–”

“Enough, cousin,” Baela whispered harshly from the other side of Jacaerys, who was already losing his temper. 

“You can play the harlot if you wish, aunt, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace whispered, his words were more of a hiss as he braced himself on the edge of the table. 

Aenys blinked at him and nodded, “Mhm. Whatever you say, my dear nephew.”

As she settled back into her chair, she felt fingers snake onto her knee and grip tightly. This brought her attention back to her husband, whose lips were pursed and his eye blazed with warning. Aenys merely smiled at him as if they were in wedded bliss, her hand reaching down to her knee to grab his, then pulling it up on the table, where she laced her fingers with his. The action earned her a little rumble from deep in his chest, and she half expected him to tear his hand out of her grip, but he didn’t. 

He just looked away from her, eye trained on something (or someone) at the other end of the table. There was a twitch in the muscle under his injured eye, and in that moment she felt his fingers tighten around her own. 

The sound of Viserys’ cane hitting the floor silenced the whispers around the table and garnered the attention of everyone in the room. The frail King rose from his seat, and everyone watched with bated breath and concern, as if he would topple over at his attempt. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past,” Viserys paused as he slowly reached for the bronzed mask that hid half his face. Unbuckling the fastens, he let it fall onto the table. His right side exposed, the empty socket, the decayed flesh that lay underneath.

 He was already half a corpse, half dead. It made Aenys’ breath hitch and her mind sober at the sight. She had never seen her father like this before; frail, weak, dying, his wounds displayed to them and yet stood above them all. Aenys only ever saw Viserys as a crippled man with no backbone, and eyes full of hate and disappointment when he looked in her direction. His most distasteful daughter.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… If it indeed ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just as the king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man... who loves you all... so dearly.”

There was a palpable taste of shame, guilt, remorse, and heartbreak in the room. One that Aenys had to chase down with a drink from her cup. Unbeknownst to her own mind, her fingers had curled slightly around Aemond’s hand, which still remained in hers. Her eyes were settled on the table, but Aemond’s focus was their intertwined fingers, a deep, pensive look in his eye.

Soon after the King was back in his seat did Rhaenyra stand up with her goblet, declaring she was raising it for the Queen. She spoke of her loyalty to her father, and her devotion and love. Sentiments that Aenys found illinformed, knowing what she knew about her mother, knowing that she was no different than her estranged eldest daughter. If only Rhaenyra knew about Ser Criston…

But then Alicent spoke in kind, looking directly at the Crown Princess with soft eyes; eyes that Aenys had never seen when her mother ever looked in her direction. 

“We are both mothers, and we love our children,” the statement stung like a band of hornets. Aenys pursed her lips and tore her attention off of the center of the table, feeling bile eat up her throat. She washed it down with more wine, making her cup empty. 

As everyone toasted and silently resumed to their plates and idle chatter, Aenys turned towards the pitcher that sat between Baela and Jacaerys. Her mouth was parched and that bile wouldn’t go away. She found herself standing and unlatching her hand from Aemond’s as she strode around Jacaerys’ chair, making her way towards the pitcher. She could feel Aemond’s eye on her every move. 

Clearing her throat, she gently squeezed between the two chairs so she could reach for the pitcher of wine. Once she got it in her grasp, she stood up and innocently began to pour it into her cup with her back facing the direction of their parents. 

“I, um,” she started, tongue moving along her teeth as she addressed Baela directly. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But, if you two ever need a couple extra helping hands, all you have to do is ask–”

Jace’s fists slammed against the table as he stood, eyes piercing Aenys as she walked casually around him, innocent as ever as she returned to her seat. The Strong Prince’s heated onyx gaze watched her with pure hatred, his body vibrating with the need to yell, or worse. When all eyes were on him, looks of surprise or mute apprehension, Aemond slowly stood up, towering over him at his end of the table. Aenys simply looked around the table innocently, only briefly catching the knowing look from her grandsire. 

Her husband’s eye was trained on Jacaerys, his stoic demeanor emanating an underlying threat; daring Jace to say something or do something. To give Aemond a reason.

Instead, Jace sucked in his lips and quickly swiped up his goblet. With a slight turn of his shoulders, he faced Aenys, a painfully forced smile on his plush lips as he gave her a little pat on her head. 

With a deep inhale, he raised his cup, “To Prince Aemond and Princess Aenys… We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.”

“Mmmhm,” Aenys hummed in her seat, her smirk tugging at the end of her lip. Aemond remained standing, but he took a split second to send her a withering look. 

“And as men and women, I hope we may yet be friends and allies,” he raised his cup in their direction. “To the health of your young family, my dear uncle, and my sweet aunt.” 

Jace sat back down, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he did. Not long after, Aemond finally settled back in his seat, looking a tad disappointed that he wasn’t given a reason to throw hands. As everyone raised their goblets to Jace’s toast, Aenys sighed and rolled her eyes. Her tongue was moving around in her mouth, the desperate need to say something in turn. It really didn’t take much time before she let the pettiness win, and soon it was now her time to rise from the table, full goblet in hand. 

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” she began, a disingenuous smile stretched across her face that was instantly read by her family. Aside from her father, who looked like he was having trouble keeping his head up at that point. “You will be married soon, and I feel it is my duty as a member of the league of blissfully wedded women to impart some of my sage wisdom…” She trailed off, actively ignoring the glare from her mother, brother, and grandsire. “The key to a good marriage is communication and patience. And when you’re angry with each… lemons, loads of lemons,” Aenys ended her toast with a cheeky grin before she felt her sleeve get yanked by Aemond, forcing her to sit back down. 

Daemon was the only person who chuckled at the table, catching her jest immediately. Everyone else either looked confused or conflicted on what to make of Aenys’ little toast.

 With the tensions still thick, Viserys requested music to fill the void. Aenys felt Jacaerys shift in his seat, pushing back his chair to stand up. With a pompous air of superiority, he offered his hand to his soon-to-be bride, who looked up at him with equal levels of fondness and delight. Before Jace and Baela left the table, Aenys caught her nephew’s smugness as he shared a look with Aemond. When the couple walked around the table towards the open space to dance, Aemond’s eye found Aenys’ in turn, a silent dual recognition of Jace's intentions. 

Despite her little toast, it was common knowledge that her marriage with Aemond was not the blissful one she had claimed. It was not a secret either that he rarely touches her, nor was it unknown that Aenys had a long string of lovers to compensate for the lack of physical affection. Jace asking Baela for a dance seemed innocent, but it very much wasn’t. What it was, was a statement: “We are better than you in every way.” 

Aenys crossed her legs under the table as she nursed her wine. She was practically slumped against the chair as she watched the couple with poorly concealed contempt and jealousy. As time went on in a haze of music, soft laughter and chatter, the tension eased from all seated except for the young married couple at the far right end of the table. Neither of them touched their food the entire time. 

From the corner of Aenys’ eye, she could see Daemon shift in his seat, as if he was going to get up. However, the anguished sigh of the King stopped him, as well as everyone else in the room. The tired and ailing King was carried out of the small hall on his litter, everyone stood and paused as they gave him their regard and respect. Not long after his departure, however, did the atmosphere shift. 

Servants came through the doors a minute after, holding a large platter that was the bed of a roasted, sizzling pig. The large plate was carefully slid in front of both Aemond and Aenys. The former had been impassively staring at Jace and Baela still dancing, but the moment he heard giggling from the other end of the table, his head slowly turned towards the smirking boy, the one who made him half blind. 

Aenys’ cup was halfway towards her lips when she noticed her husband’s look, and she immediately clocked the twitch in his cheek and the tightness of his jaw. She slowly placed her cup down back on the table, now that a real show was about to begin. 

When Aemond’s fist landed in the wooden table, Aenys felt a spike of adrenaline shoot down her spine, straight down to her cunt. 

 “Final tribute.” 

“Aemond, are you listening to me?!” Alicent shouted, her chest heaving as she stared at her son with wide disapproving eyes, marbled by the glossiness of her embarrassment over her son’s uncharacteristic and unprovoked confrontation at supper.

Aemond wasn’t listening to her, of course. It went in one ear and out the other. After Daemon had wedged himself between him and his nephews, with that smug-ass look on his face, Aemond strode out of the room and went straight to his quarters. His mind was reeling and his muscles were tense with adrenalin at what transpired that evening. Of course, he felt an immense amount of satisfaction for putting his nephews in their place, of reminding them who their competition was. But that wasn’t what plagued his mind, oh no. 

It was Aenys.

She had been a pain in his ass the entire eve, from the moment she walked in, already well into her cups. Despite the tense argument they had the other day, Aenys still had no qualms flaunting her sexual deviances around like a badge of honour, in front of him no less. However, her taunting Jacaerys the way she did, making him and Baela squirm with just her words stirred something in him that evening. Of course, he abhorred the knowledge that Jace and his wife fooled around as young teens (back when Aenys was closer to him than she ever was with Aemond), it was simply the act of her using that as a weapon that Aemond couldn’t help but respect. Begrudgingly.

But it wasn’t just that. When Aemond’s final tribute took a violent turn, Aenys wasted no time in joining him. When Jace approached Aemond and raised his fist, Luke had approached to do the same thing.

 It was very reminiscent of the night that Aemond lost his eye; they all gained up on him, and at the time he was alone. Aenys was somewhere with that male servant she had been flirting with at the funeral, likely getting her holes fingered. At the time, Aemond resented her for not being there with him. She was his older sister after all, and the closest blood he had aside from Helaena and Daeron who were both in Oldtown. Though he knew logically that Aenys couldn’t have possibly known that Aemond was even outside in the first place, claiming Vhagar. But still, it was the budding reason as to why he had pointed his finger at her when their father asked where he had heard the ‘lie’ about Rhaenyra’s children being bastards.

However at supper, when Luke strode to join Jacaerys’ assault, much like he had done that fateful night, Aenys was on him in an instant. With a strength he had absolutely no idea she possessed, she had grabbed onto Luke’s arm and pinned him on the table, hovering over him with a self-satisfied expression on her face. She enjoyed putting the Strong boys in their place as much as Aemond did, reminding them that they were the true Targaryens, the rightful heirs. 

When Rhaena went to grab Aenys, she had no choice but to pull herself away from Luke in order to fend her cousin off. In doing so Luke twirled off the table, and raised his hand to grab Aenys by the back of her haid. Aemond’s heart spiked. Though, just as he was about to bound over there in quick strides, Aenys twirled around and landed a swift punch of her own to Luke’s left eye. 

“Be lucky I wasn’t holding a dagger, you bastard,” Aenys spat in her nephew’s face and stepped over him, leaving him sprawled on the floor, clutching his bruised eye. 

Aemond was staring at his wife with a wide eye and a hardening cock/ But before he could even grab her, Daemon had stepped between them all as guards scrambled to pull Rhaenyra’s brood away. The sight of his uncle immediately infuriated him, particularly the smug way he was looking back. 

“Aemond,” Alicent’s word sliced through his reverie, and brought him back to the present. He turned to look at her, his face completely impassive. She was berating him for the past ten minutes or so, and he sat there in quiet, not bothering to respond. 

He wasn’t listening, he didn’t care. He would have done it again and again and again, if it meant he could watch Aenys punch Luke over and over again.

“I cannot believe you, of all people, Aemond, would have said such things in front of everyone. After we had just established peace!” 

“Peace?” Aemond repeats the word like it is the most vile thing he’s ever tasted. He stood up from his arm chair and sauntered over to his mother. “You lost the right to peace long ago when you told me that I was Rhaenyra’s challenge. When you and grandsire groomed me to be the future king, despite father’s steadfast decision of keeping Rhaenyra as his heir. You lost the right to peace when you married him in the first place, effectively creating a war when you gave him more children. And Rhaenyra lost the right to it when she opened her legs and sired bastards.” 

“Aemond–” Alicent took a step forward, her face slowly cracking as she pleaded with him, but he put his hand up to stop her. His face was twisted in disgust. 

“You said to her… That she would make a fine Queen. You said that to her, in front of me, mother,” Aemond pursed his lips and gritted his jaw as he turned away from Alicent. “After all you’ve told me… After years of preparing me for the throne, telling me how I would make my ancestors proud. Did you believe any of it, or were you just stroking your own ambition?”

Alicent gaped at him, her brown eyes wide and glossy. The truth of his words bit her like the chill of a winter breeze, causing her to freeze over in the consequences of her sins.

When Aemond saw that she was not going to answer, his nostrils flared and he sharply turned away from her. His long, heavy steps ate up the floor within seconds until he’s reaching for the door.

“Wher-where are you going?” She questioned, turning to him with a flash of fear crossing her features, as if she suspects him of doing something heinous. 

Aemond hesitated, his fingers flexing around the handle of the door, his shoulders taut and the muscles in his cheek twitching under the strength of his gritted jaw. 

“To my wife.”

When Aemond barged into Aenys’ quarters for the second time that week, she was sitting on a settee with her maidservant straddling her lap. Aenys was sucking on the girl’s perky nipple while her hand was buried under her skirts, knuckles deep in the servant’s cunt. 

When the maid turned to see who had entered, her eyes widened to saucers and she immediately pulled herself off of the Princess’s lap (much to Aenys’ chagrin), releasing her nipple from her mouth with an obscene popping sound. 

“What the hells, Aemond,” the Princess growled. 

Aemond ignored her statement. As the maid scrambled to fix her bodice, he jutted his thumb towards the exit, “Out.” With barely a nod and a curtsy, the maid scrambled out, still lacing up her bodice.

Aenys glared up at him as she slumped in her seat, her face was flushed (from drink or from the activities that were interrupted), and the laces of her bodice were loosened, threatening to release her breasts.

“Way to be a cock block, husband,” Aenys huffed when the door slammed shut. She stood up then, her hands thrown in the air in exasperation. “What do you even– Aemond!” 

He had grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease as he tossed her over his shoulder. Aemond took wide strides towards her bedchamber and once there, he tossed Aenys onto the bed, kicking the door behind him closed. 

Aenys stared up at him, wide eyed, gobsmacked, and utterly confused. Her plush, swollen lips were parted, her hair was in a disarray around her face as she sat propped on her elbows. 

“Wh-what are you–” Her eyes traveled to his hands, where he was unbuckling his belt and scabbard, his one lilac eye trained on her like she was a rabbit and he the fox. 

“Reminding you that you’re my wife,” He said the last word with a growl as he jerked off his belt in one swing. Aenys’ eyes flashed with excitement and alarm at his words, his hands, and the hungry look upon him. 

“I-I thought… I was merely a duty,” she swallowed thickly as she moved further into the cushions, crawling backwards on her elbows as he slowly approached the edge of the bed. Aemond put his knee into the mattress, his large hands bracing themselves on either side of her knees as he crawled over her body. “A duty you already fulfilled.” 

Aemond hummed, his expression nearly unreadable. His eye was dark with the blackness of his wide pupil as he carefully examined her body and her face. 

“I was mistaken,” he finally said, his voice low but dangerous. “My duty won’t be fulfilled until this castle is teaming with our progeny.” 

A shock of arousal goes down her spine, punctuated by how he grabs the laces of her bodice at the front and yanks so violently that the seams rip off her dress. She gasped, looking down in both horror and fascination as Aemond proceeded to rip her dress in half from the neckline down, leaving her in nothing but the shift underneath. 

Aemond drank the image of her body, just visible underneath the thin muslin material of her shift. The image of her punching Luke replayed in his mind’s eye over and over again. The way she stood there with her chest heaving, the turn of her little waistline, the shape of her pear shaped hips and thighs. Her ass. Fuck, her ass. 

His hands gripped her hips and tossed her on her stomach, withdrawing a gasp and yelp at the rough and sudden movement. Aemond was quick to tear off the rest of the torn dress from her, snaking her arms out of it and tossing it aside. Then he pulled her hips up towards him, and Aenys was quick to assume the position. 

This was how they always coupled; with her face buried in the pillows, her ass up for him as he bred her like a bitch in heat. He told himself that the reason he chose that position was because he did not want to see her face when he released his spend in her. That their coupling was solely for the purposes of procreation, and seeing her face would simply soften his cock. But, no, that wasn’t it at all… The truth of it was that Aemond absolutely loved Aenys’ ass. And what’s more, it even seemed to get bigger when she became a mother.

Aenys’ eyes fluttered closed when she felt his fingers slowly run up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her shift, exposing her rear to him. She was so fucking wet, so needy, she could feel her walls clenching around nothing in eager anticipation. It originated, of course, during her budding tryst with her maid, but it was amplified the moment Aemond grabbed her.

Gods, how she hungered for his touch. He cruelly deprived her of it for years and years, forcing her to seek it in others, only to find shallow fulfillment. Aenys had no idea what got into him that evening, but she wasn’t complaining. Mayhaps it was the supper, the adrenalin rush of what conspired. Even she would concede watching Aemond dominate a room with a simple toast had riled her up. Had she known her husband had similar sentiments, she would have fucked him right then and there, in front of their entire fucking family. 

Aenys let out a whimper of anticipation, waiting for the sounds of his laces to be undone so he could sink into her impatient core. It wasn’t coming. All she could feel was the heat of his body, the gentle brush of his breath on her exposed skin, and the searing brand of his stare. Aenys moved her hips closer to him, coaxing him to take her, to fuck another son into her.

“Aemond,” She sounded so pathetic, so needy.  

Aemond hummed, a little bit amused by her reaction to him. The end of his lip curled in a devious little smirk. “Tell me, wife, are you always this impatient with your lovers?” He punctuated his question as he leaned over her and grounded his clothed hips against her rear, his hardened length painfully evident. 

A small gasp escaped her parted lips, “N-no–”

“No?” His voice was a quiet rumble, one hand gripping her hip as he grinded against her ass, and the other was planted on the mattress to keep himself steady. “An wanton whore like you? I am surprised, Aenys.” 

“They’re… They’re not–” She softly moaned when his fingers slid down the slope of her spine. 

“They’re not what?” Aemond’s voice was low and rough and so close to her that it sent vibrations down her ear canal.

“Not you.” 

Aemond paused his grinding when she said that, his eye watching her closely as if he was processing this confession. Finally, he hummed, his smirk returning, “No, they are not.”

He pulled away from her, both hands finding the globes of her ass and pulling them apart so he could see her puckered hole and the sheen of her wet core. “How many men have been inside these, I wonder…” His thumb inches deftly close to her hole, recalling the comment she made earlier that evening about how anal had become her ‘speciality’. Aemond decided he would have her prove that statement, but not right now.

“Hells, Aemond, please, just fucking touch– Ah!” She yelped sharply and jerked forward when he slapped her ass. He was then quick to rub the area he had struck; she could have sworn she heard him chuckle softly as he did. 

“Whores do not make demands,” Aemond gripped her hips again and pulled her flush against his thighs, then he reached over and gripped the scruff of her hair at the back of her head. His fingers curled at the roots as he pulled her back, arching her painfully. “You want me to touch you, sweet sister? You want me inside of you again, hm?”

Aenys’ face was twisted in pain and pleasure. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were shut as she endured the uncomfortable position he was bending her in.

“Yes, yes, fuckin’ hells, Aemond,” her plea was laced with budding frustration. She could feel her thighs tremble from not only the position, but from the sheer eagerness for him. 

“Then you will renew your vows right here, right now,” his grip tightened on her hair, making her whimper again. “You belong to me, and only me. Say it, Aenys.” 

“I-I,” she struggled to speak as her neck craned back. “I belong t-to you, Aemond.”

“You will take no other lovers.”

“I will take no other lovers,” she echoed his words without hesitation.

“Your body will belong to me, and only me.”

“Only you, Aemond, my body belongs to you, please–please– Ee-ah!” Her mouth widened as she let out a loud whimper when he bucked his hips into her behind. 

“And why is that, sister? Why do you belong to me?” His nose hovered next to her ear, the waft of his hot breath making her eyes flutter. 

“Because—Because I’m–I’m your wife. ‘Nd- And I’m your-your property,” her tongue darted to wet her drying lips. 

Aemond’s eye shut, his head leaned back as a rumbly moan reverberated in his chest. Hearing Aenys say those words gave him the same feeling he had when he claimed Vhagar. A lightness bloomed in his belly, warm like the sun as it pooled into the veins of his cock, making him harder than he already was.

He claimed the unclaimable mount; Aenys, the wild dragon of King’s Landing. 

Incapable of waiting any longer, Aemond lets go of Aenys’ hair, making her collapse back on the bed with a strangled sigh. Soon after his hands were around her waist, sharply flipping her over again, and gripping the front of her shift and tearing the fabric open much like the dress before it. The shift was shredded in seconds, exposing her completely before him, looking like a gods damn feast, and it was all for him. 

Aemond’s eye settled on her core, the tufts of ivory curls glistening with her essence. He felt his mouth water at the sight. 

Aenys was breathing hard, her back aching from being bent in half a moment ago. But that didn’t matter, her mind was reeling with desire and her limbs felt like they were worming around slowly, involuntarily, like a coiling snake. Despite her needy state, she couldn’t help but comment about her shredded attire. 

“Are you going to make it a habit to rip up all my clothing, Aemond?”

Aemond’s heated gaze shifted from her core up to her face, “If it keeps you like this for me, yes.” 

Before she could respond, his arms are wrapping around her thighs and he’s dropping on his stomach, pulling her sex towards his face. Aenys’ eyes bulge open as he buries his face into her nest of curls. Aemond did not gift her a second to compute what was happening, because he was immediately devouring her with relentless vigor. 

“OOooh, fucking hells, AEMOND!”

His tongue was lapping up her pearl like he was trying to slurp it up from an oyster. Then brought up his fingers to join, delving into her folds, curling into that spongy spot hidden within her. Aemond was relentless in his speed and force, putting his wife into a frenzy of torturous pleasure. Aenys’ thighs were jerking and trembling uncontrollably, forcing Aemond to hold them down so he could continue his assault on her cunt unimpeded. But the stimulation was virtually agonizing, making Aenys writhe and kick her legs, her pleas for him to slow down were almost incomprehensible. 

“A-a-a-aemon-mon– fuck-f-fufufuck, s-sto-p—” But his lips wrapped around her pearl and he started to suckle on it. Her hips sharply buckled into him, as a long guttural moan vibrated her lungs.

“F-f-f-f-fuck, ‘m gonna-’m gonna—”

And just when she was going to reach that blinding peak, the fucker pulls away. Aenys falls into a heap on the mattress, her muscles release its tension, but her loins are tightly wound up and flushed pink from Aemond’s last meal. 

When Aenys looks up with bleary eyes, a furrowed brow, and panting breaths, she sees Aemond put his fingers into his mouth, sucking off her juices from his digits. He’s still looking at her like he hasn’t eaten a damn thing all day. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” She questioned through her rapid breathing, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. 

“Do you really want me to stop just to answer that question?”

There was no deliberation, “No.” 

“Good.”

Aemond stands at the foot of the bed, starting to unbuckle his jerkin. Aenys is quick to scoot to the edge of the bed to help him unlace his breeches. Within several seconds, Aemond was just as bare as her, all except for his eyepatch. Though that wouldn’t last for long. 

Aenys got on her knees on top of the bed, making her almost eye level with him. Aemond watched her unblinkingly as she raised her fingers to touch the side of his face, following the scar until her nail hit the eyepatch. She took it off with a surprising amount of tenderness, being that it was the first time he had ever let her near his injured eye. 

Aenys' eyes started to gloss over as she really took in the sight. To finally see the carnage up close, the gnarled skin, the scar slicing down the middle, pink at the ridges. His damaged eyelids fluttered at the feeling of her fingers ghosting around it. Suddenly the weight of the past came flooding back to her; the guilt clawing up her throat. She should have been there for him when it happened, she should have been there to protect her little brother. Aenys opened her mouth to say something, but before she could let out a noise, Aemond took the hand that was on his cheek and placed a kiss on the palm, a gesture of forgiveness. 

“We will make them pay, Aemond,” her tone was soft, but the threat was laced in a venomous promise. 

Something flashed in Aemond’s eye. A spark of fire that reflected the one in Aenys’ violet orbs. With a low growl, Aemond grasped the front of her neck like she was a goblet of fine Arbor Red and pulled her into a devouring kiss, as possessive as it was searing. This was the first time the two of them kissed since their wedding. 

In a flurry of limbs and a ballad of moans and groans, Aenys and Aemond grasped, grabbed and fought each other as they both tried to fill the dominant role, all the while keeping their lips glued together. Aenys' legs wrapped around his middle, Aemond’s were holding her thighs from underneath as they rolled and bumped around the room, hitting every surface they could find, colliding into things and causing stuff to crash and break on the floor. 

Aemond’s cock was pressed against her cunt, twitching and leaking and eager to be inside of her. The blunt tip would brush against her pearl every once in a while in their clumsy wrestling, making her whine and then growl in frustration. Before too long, their bodies were entangled on the bed again, as Aenys tried to fight for her position to be on top. However, in the process of that, the two of them went tumbling onto the floor, with Aemond hovering over her body and Aenys laying flat on her belly. 

Groaning, Aenys pushed herself on her knees, giving Aemond ample opportunity to grab onto her hips and pull her against him. With his cock nestled between her thighs, he stood on his knees, gripping the hair at the back of her head and pulling her flush against his torso. In front of them stood her floor length mirror, the display presented to them was lewd, humiliating and insanely arousing. 

Aemond stared at her reflection, his eye blackened by his pupil. He peered over her shoulder as one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pulled her hair back, craning her neck. Aenys had no choice but to balance on the balls of her feet, her legs straddling his as he sat on his knees. Aemond’s curved cock pressing against the slit of her mound, brushing against her pearl when it twitched. 

The arm that was wrapped around her middle slowly moved down until his palm reached her mons. A long finger dipped through her curls until he found her abused nub, instantly sending her thighs into a tremble. Unlike earlier, his ministrations were slower, building her high back up at a steadfast pace. Aenys' hips rotated against his hand, her whines gentle, but the sweat on the back of her neck and brow showed her desperation for release. 

“Look at yourself, sweet sister,” Aemond purred into her ear, the vocal fry of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. “So desperate for me and only me. I always wondered, Aenys: is it my cock you imagine when you fuck your lovers? Do you close your eyes and imagine it is my body pressed against yours?”

Aenys was panting desperately, a soft mewl on her lips when she nodded. 

“Use your words, darling, or I’ll stop.”

She groaned in annoyance, knowing she had no choice but to comply. With his cock hot against her slit, she couldn’t take the waiting any longer. 

“Y-yes,” she finally admitted begrudgingly through her clenched teeth. Both of her hands were grasping his forearm, the one wrapped around her, the one whose hand was massaging her pearl. “Yes, Aemond, I– I crave you so fucking much, it drives me insane. Aemond, please–please–” 

Aemond chuckled into her ear, his grin of self-satisfaction looking like a wolf about to devour the doe he had been trying to chase down for days. 

“Oh, Aenys,” he nuzzles his nose into her hair, next to the shell of her ear, “I’m going to make sure the whole damn Kingdom knows who you belong to. There won’t be a year in your life where you won't be carrying my child.” 

Aenys' eyelids fluttered at his statement, the heat pooling down to her cunt like a rush of lava. Aemond uses both his hands to grip her thighs, forcing her to squat above him, letting the blunt tip of his cock align with her sex. With one of his hands, he moves it along the sopping wet folds, brushing against her sore pearl before finding the entrance below. His mouth pops open as he slowly pushes her hips down, spearing his cock into her until he reaches the hilt. 

Aenys threw her head back into his shoulder and Aemond buried his face into the crook of her neck, a guttural groan emitting from his throat. Her warmth enveloped him like nothing else he’s ever found before. Not Sylvi, not the random whores he endured when Sylvi was not available. Aenys' cunt fit him perfectly, like she was made for him, and yet still hugged around his girth in a velvety vice. And when her walls fluttered around him, Aemond nearly collapsed into her back, a grumbly sigh of satisfaction filtering through his lips. 

He feels his wife grinding her hips against his, her mewls of pleasure tickling the inside of his ears tantalizingly. Regaining his composure, Aemond straightened up and wrapped his arm around her, gripping her hip with one hand, and using the other to grasp onto her left breast. With his calloused fingers, he pinched and pulled at her over sensitive nipples while he made sharp and short thrusts into her, effectively having her bounce on his cock. 

Aenys softly mewled and squirmed in his grasp, trying to match his thrusts with the backing up of her hips. Her hair pooled over her left shoulder, while Aemond hovered over her right. They were watching each other through the mirror, mouths hanging open as they devoured each other with their gazes. Panting, gasps, and gentle moans filled the room, making the air sticky and hot. Aenys suddenly gave a loud whine when he tugged on her nipple, causing Aemond to nearly pause his thrusts when he felt a lukewarm liquid on his fingertips.

Aemond blinked in surprise when he looked down and saw the milk leaking from her nipple. He only had to process it for a few short seconds before he turned absolutely feral. In a flash of movements, Aenys was suddenly hoisted up and turned around, and Aemond was perched on the edge of the bed now. In a quick motion, he wasted no time in slotting back into her like a sword swiftly sheathing into a scabbard. Her head snapped backward as her mouth gaped widely open to let out a loud grunt of pain and pleasure, thanks to Aemond’s cock punching against her cervix.

Her husband gripped the curve of her rear in both hands, fingers digging into the meat as he spread open her cheeks, his middle finger rubbing against the puckered entrance there. His head dipped to her chest and quickly captured her nipple between his lips, and immediately Aenys could feel the sensation of milk leaving her. The tension of her sore breast was immediately relieved as Aemond nursed her; a feeling that was elevated as he pistoned into her still, his grip on her ass making her hips grind against his length, and the curve of his cock to rub against her the sensitive spot inside of her over and over again. 

“Oh, gods, Aemond–” Her head tilted back, her spine rigid with the steady stream of pleasurable sensations he was gifting her. 

He moaned in response against her tit, his fingers tightening into the flesh of her plush rear. The taste of her mother’s milk on his palette was absolutely heavenly; she tasted so sweet, so warm, and the texture felt like liquid silk. Coupled with the fluttering of her walls around his cock, Aemond could already feel his balls tighten and the base of his spine tingle. His release was near, and based on the increase of her whines as she bounced on him, so was she. 

Reluctantly, Aemond pulled away from her breast and looked up at her, his sister, his wife, his Aenys. She looked down at him with parted lips, swollen and flushed with desire, her pupils blown wide and tears forming at the corners. Her hands moved from his shoulders to cup the arch of his jawline, bringing him close to her until their noses bumped and they were breathing each other’s oxygen through their panting parted lips. “Aenys,” her name fell from his lips like a plea, a stark contrast to the dominant commands he had given her the past hour or so. 

“Aemond,” she replied, her voice light as she felt the rise of her impending orgasm, punctuated by the flutter of her cunt. Aemond’s curved cock was relentless in his thrusts, bullying the spongy part inside of her that sent electric thrills throughout her core. It wouldn’t be too long before she is sent hurtling through all seven heavens. 

His grip on her ass tightened, his thrusts became more erratic and the creases in his brow deepened. Aemond gritted his teeth and shut his eye as his growls and groans built up higher and higher. He was reaching such heights he had never experienced before. Though it was like his body knew to wait, until the precise perfect moment, because he didn’t reach his peak until his wife did. Aenys' walls clenched around his girth like a python’s grip, her hands curled into his hair as she sharply gasped and moaned, long and primal. Aemond watched with wide-eyed fascination as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

With a few more erratic thrusts up into her, Aemond’s hips stuttered and he gripped tightly onto her. His nose was buried into her neck as he pulled her flushed into him, stilling her movements so he would not get overstimulated. Her name was a gospel of sin and love and longing, sounding guttural and animalistic coming out through his teeth. Ropes of his seed filled her, painting her walls over and over again, filling her awaiting womb. 

Their combined orgasms sent spasms through their limbs, prolonging the pleasure for a few more moments before their muscles loosened and they were left panting on the edge of the bed. Aenys could already feel their combined releases trail down her canal, collecting around the base of his cock and dampening her thighs. 

Feeling utterly spent, Aemond collapsed backwards, bringing her down with him. His softening cock remained inside of her, not willing to release it from the hot velvety embrace. He instead kept his hand splayed on her back while she rested her ear on his heart, both of them panting and silent in the afterglow of their love making. 

Slowly their breathing eased. When they were able to breathe through their noses, Aemond broke the silence, his voice was rough and coarse, yet uncharacteristically tentative. 

“Aenys–” He cleared his throat, his large hand caressing her spine in small circles. “I-I–”

“Shh,” she gently hushed him. Lifting her heavy head, she looked up at him with soft and sober eyes. “I know, brother. I know…”

The words known, but unspoken hung in the air between them. As she and Aemond stared at each other, Aenys couldn't help but feel whole for the first time in her life. 

She felt worthy. 

She felt loved.

Notes: Criticisms are always welcome, but if your only criticism is that dared to make a gender bent character, I'm going to respectfully delete/ignore it. This story came out more tragic than I intended, but eh. I realized while I was writing it that Fem!Aegon would have been in a worse position as a woman, and I decided to explore how she would've been treated had she retained the same personality as canon Aegon. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait, and the long read. The smut itself was over 4k words, lol. Go big or go home, ammirite?

Important: The characters in this one shot do not belong to me, but to GRRM and HBO. Everything written in this short story is written by me, with out the aid of an AI. This is a fanfiction, and therefore free content. Please do not re-post, re-distribute, or translate without my permission. Doing so will be an act of plagiarism, even if you credit me. The only other place this story is posted on, is on my Ao3, under the same username.

Tag List: @aramiv , @aegonisdrunk, @helaegonlover, @startledmonster

*if tumblr doesn't properly tag you, I'll try to send you a message

[liannafae]

That's my son 💅🏻✨💖🥰

To me, this scene is a display of Aemond's greatness and superiority like no other.

Like, Jace throws that punch using all his body strength that barely makes Aemond tremble, and then Aemond pushes him and throws him to the ground without making the slightest effort, as if Jacaerys was a 5 year old child. (All with that shitty smile on his face)

He made sure to show Jace how superior he was to him at that moment in every possible way. And I swear to all of you, if he could he would have made Vhagar sit next to him at the dinner table so the two of them could make a dramatic exit together.

[liannafae]

So wet 🚑🚑🚑🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️👁️👄👁️💦💦💦

high valyrian.

[liannafae]

Holy hell, I needed this 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️😩😩😩🚑🚑

You’re Perfect

Billy Washington x Girlfriend

Summary: You ask Billy to fulfill one of your fantasies.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, deepthroat, throat fucking, breath play, fingering, cum eating

A/N: Here you go, anon! Made a header ‘cause I was bored 🤓 Also, I can’t believe I wrote this? Please forgive me for the crimes of my ovulation 🙏

Word count: 1700

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The days between Christmas and New Years always feel like being in limbo; stuck in time between the cosy familiarity of Christmas, and the rejuvenating passing of New Years. Never feeling quite like yourself; sometimes unburdened by the stressors of everyday life, sometimes fretting over the return of normalcy as a new year embarks.

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as a shower makes you feel human again.

You step out of the bathroom, steam accompanying your dampened silhouette as you enter the living room of Billy's small flat. He’s lounging on the small sofa in the corner, feet propped up on the low ikea coffee table, eyes flickering from the TV screen to you, taking in the way your dressing gown clings to your dewy skin.

Eyes still on you, he sits up a bit straighter, spreading his legs out while stretching out a needy hand, the other one fidgeting with the remote to mute the TV, “Come here”.

As you got more comfortable with each other as a couple, you learned a few things about Billy; he’s giving and he’s needy.

He wants you to know how much he appreciates you. He shows his love by making you tea each morning. By complimenting your cooking, even when it tastes horrid. By touching you, every chance he gets.

You take his hand and sit down on his lap. Billy’s face instantly nuzzles into the softness of your chest, nose trailing across your smooth skin as he inhales, “Did you use that shower oil I got you for Christmas?”

“The one I told you to buy for me?”, you giggle, remembering how panicked his blue eyes had looked in the over-crowded shopping centre before you slipped your gift into his hand and told him you’d go out while he finished up there, “-yes”

Billy hums, the stubble on his chin scratching your skin, “Great choice. Do you feel better after your shower?”

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as Billy's touch makes you feel human again.

He’s always so gentle with you, a stark contrast to the natural clumsiness he seems to possess. With you, he’s always careful, fingertips grazing delicately over your skin.

“Yes”, you answer honestly, grabbing his face to angle it towards your lips.

The kiss starts soft, plush lips moving against each other slowly. But once Billy finds your ass, squeezing it over your dressing gown, his mouth matches the neediness of his hand.

When you push on his shoulder to allow yourself a moment to come up for air, his lips chase your mouth, reluctant to allow separation between the two of you.

You dodge him, place a quick peck on his lips and stroke the smooth skin on his cheekbones, “There’s this thing I’d like to try..”

Unable to keep from adoring you, Billy peppers your neck with soft kisses, mumbling “Tell me” into your skin.

“It’s this fantasy I’ve had for a while”, you start, feeling Billy straighten up slightly as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, intrigued.

“Anything”, he says, grasp on your ass moving your body slightly so your leg makes contact with his crotch, feeling the hardness already there.

“Before we met, I’d… get off to this thought…”, you explain, hand moving to play with the sandy hairs at the base of his neck, “it’s something I’ve always wanted to try”.

“If you’re about to suggest a threesome with one of my mates, I’m throwing you out the window”, Billy jokes, still busy lathering you in featherlight kisses.

You chuckle, leaning in closer, mouth right by his ear as you purr, “I want you to fuck my throat”

Billy’s body goes stiff beneath you, but you can swear that you feel his cock twitch against your leg.

“Um-, y-, yeah. Yeah, guess we could try that”, he stammers, caught off guard by your brazen request.

You swing one leg over his lap so that you're straddling him, a playful smile turning the corners of your lips up.

“Yeah?”, you excitedly confirm, stifling a giggle at how rapidly your partner's cheeks have turned pink, “would you like to try right now?”

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Billy looks at you in amazement, nodding a silent yes.

You’d already gotten a bit worked up from just mentioning the subject, and now the realisation that it’ll happen has your core aching; arousal overtaking you rapidly.

You leave one last peck on Billy’s rosy lips before standing, pulling him up from the sofa and laying down with your head hanging over the armrest.

He observes you, mouth hanging open in astonishment, shoulders slumped and tent in his adidas bottoms evident. You almost let out another giggle at his baffled state.

“I want you to use me, Billy”, you urge, hand closest to him grabbing a fistful of the soft joggers material to pull him closer, “please”

He exhales shakily, hand moving down to palm over his aching cock. If this is what you want, who is he to deny you?

His eyes flicker from your face, eyes expectant and half-lidded with want, to your scarcely covered body, peeks of your soft skin peeping through the middle slit of your dressing gown.

God, you’re perfect.

“Tap my leg if it’s too much, yeah?”, he says, hesitation still evident in his tone, and you smile in reply, nodding.

He grabs his cock in one hand, the other moving to your face, fingertips gently tracing your cheeks as his eyes softly regard you with utter adoration.

Sliding in slowly, he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot mouth welcoming him. He takes the lead, setting a shallow, easy pace, allowing you to get used to the sensation.

After a few thrusts he pulls out, cock twitching at the sight of a trail of your spit connecting the two of you, “You okay?”

His consideration is sweet, but the feeling of his heavy length in your mouth and the taste of his salty skin leaves you craving more, “Yes Billy, try going deeper”

He inhales shakily again, face evidently hot; cheeks shifting from pink to red and skin glistening.

He slides in deeper, holding the side of your face carefully in his palm, fingers gently feeling the outline of his cock through the delicate skin of your throat, and moans.

“Fuck”

He lets his inhibitions go a little more, focusing on how good it feels; how his eyes are able to appreciate every inch of you as you offer yourself to him on the worn-out sofa in his crummy flat.

Feeling your throat close in a useless attempt to swallow whatever’s blocking your airway, Billy whimpers at the pleasurable squeeze before pulling out, eyes looking down at you in horror, “Shit, sorry!”

You cough slightly, inhaling deeply to fill your lungs again. He’s so cute when he’s like this; worried puppy-eyes contrasting his out-blown pupils.

Locking eyes with him, you smile as one of your hands slides down to slip inside the opening of your dressing gown, fingers diving between your folds, urgently seeking your entrance.

Without needing further preparation, you work two fingers inside your tightness, delighted that the wet sounds of your arousal echo across the room.

“I like it”, you reassure him, “Use me, Billy”

Instantly complying, he moans loudly at how good it feels as your mouth welcomes him again, wet squelching around his length matching the fingers still buried between your legs.

You continue like that, Billy still careful to let you breathe as he fucks your throat with more and more vigour.

Each time he pulls out, there’s more spit adorning his cock. That sight alone has his balls tighten almost painfully in arousal, ready to release at any moment.

You take in a few deep breaths before opening your mouth again, glistening lips and teary, half-lidded eyes illuminated by the harsh, bright light coming from the TV.

Billy leans forward slightly, slowly easing his length back into your hot, wet mouth, unrestrained moans falling from his lips at the maddening sensation. His large hands tug at the cotton belt holding your dressing gown loosely together, revealing your naked form to his hungry gaze.

His palms brace themselves on each side of your waist, fingers squeezing your soft flesh tightly as he begins to thrust his hips again, fucking your throat in slow and precise movements.

The sound of your fingers working your dripping centre, mixed with the moans contained in your throat vibrating around him forces him towards an unabated release.

“‘M gonna cum”, he whimpers, pulling out of your mouth, once again mesmerised by the glistening wetness connecting his cock to your lips as you cough, lungs eager to receive oxygen as you breathe heavily beneath him.

His hand moves furiously over his slick length, pearly spurts landing on your hot skin as he paints your exposed tits in his cum.

Still breathing heavily, Billy drops to his knees beside the sofa to kiss you passionately, warm hand lovingly cupping your cheek.

“I love you”, he whispers, kissing your jaw.

You giggle, still a bit dazed.

“I love you”, he repeats, lips moving down to brush against your sore throat, your collarbones. He crawls on the floor next to you, kissing his cum on your breasts, smearing it over your skin with his tongue.

His lips find your nipple, biting at the nerve-filled flesh before soothingly sucking at it. Meanwhile, his fingers push the limp hand between your thighs away, plunging inside your dripping centre fervently, causing your back to arch off the sofa.

“Does it feel this good when you touch yourself?”, he asks, voice muffled by the skin of your breast, “Can your fingers reach this deep?”

“No”, you moan.

Your Billy, who often looks so afraid and unsure, lights up with confidence as his blue gaze mets yours,

“Didn’t think so”

[liannafae]

Ewan Robert Mitchell

Bᴀʙʏɢɪʀʟ / Bᴀʙʏᴍᴏɴᴋ

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ -ʜᴇ's sᴏ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ!

[liannafae]

Feeding my delusions, thank you for your service 🫡🫡🫡

my man of the year

Ewan Mitchell x girlfriend!reader

a/n: just a little something for the Ewan girlies, because in this GQ party, we are all fam 💙

main masterlist

You attend the GQ Men of the Year 2024 party with your boyfriend.

You watch in admiration as Davey makes the final tweaks to Ewan's outfit for the event—a suit tailored to perfection, its velvet material snug against his lean form. A classic piece, but sporting some eccentricities that have become essential in the Mitchell-Sutton style partnership.

The velvet suit, not in the usual black or blue, also has a textured high notch and lapels, making him look like some kind of an 80s-flick vampire.

Your gaze sweeps from his polished shoes up to his face, finding that he's watching you in the reflection as he stands in front of the mirror.

He tries turning around to see you better, causing Davey's hand to fall from his shoulder as he was pinning something in place. "Ewan, mate. Save the ogling for later, yeah? Let me finish this first."

Ewan sighs dramatically, like a kid who's been asked to stand in the corner. "Okay."

You giggle softly, shaking your head at the scene. "Ewan, listen to Davey now."

You share a look with Davey, knowing smiles on your lips. Ewan, am I right?

"I just want to look at my girlfriend," Ewan complains.

"Look at me?" you question. "Look at you, handsome! You're my man of the year, every damn year."

"C'mere, babe."

"Ewan, don't move until Davey—."

"I won't move. But come here and give me a kiss."

"Fine." You get up from your comfortable position on the seat. Might as well oblige your boyfriend, the GQ honouree. Just the thought of it makes you so giddy with pride.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you rest your chin gently on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he leans his head against yours.

"There's my girl," he purrs, wrapping his free arm around your waist and Davey works on the sleeve on the other.

Then he kisses you, mindful to stay perfectly still. Only his lips move, pillowy as they caress yours. You would have to reapply your lipstick after this.

When he cheekily snakes his tongue out, you pull back, giving him an incredulous shake of your head. "Stand down, handsome."

"Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart," Davey reassures you. "Maybe we should let Ewan have his way. Poor guy looks like he's about to explode."

You all share a laugh.

A minute later, he's all ready. Davey snaps photos of him alone, then shifts to capture the two of you together. He even manages a few that feel like classic prom poses, with Ewan's arms around you from behind.

The rest of the night is a blur of lights and glamour, and the warmth of Ewan's hand on your back quells your nerves as you step onto the red carpet.

The cameras are everywhere, a sea of flashes and shouting for you to, look here, look here!

Ewan keeps you close the entire time, steering you through it all. You can feel that he's anxious too but he's a steady presence by your side. He used to need a crutch like cigarettes or gum to deal with the chaos of such public events, but when you're with him, the noise is silenced.

It's just you and him against the world.

When his arm tightens around you, you jokingly remark, "Didn't peg you for the clingy type, babe."

He glances down, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Just making sure you don't run off with some other dashing celebrity."

An idea pops up in your head. He makes it all too easy. You let out a shaky gasp, "Wait, is that Pedro Pascal over there?"

"Where?" he asks sharply, distracted.

"By the big GQ sign. Don't make it obvious, though!" you whisper, as if you're entirely serious.

He squints, scanning the sea of people coming through the red carpet, until he realizes… there's no Pedro. Not yet, at least.

He turns to you with a playful glare, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. "You think you're funny, don't you, baby?"

You give your best wide-eyed, innocent look. "Who, me?"

"You're asking for it," he whispers close to your ear so the cameras don't catch it.

You only laugh as he pulls you closer, giving your waist another possessive squeeze.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it?" you ask.

"Guess you'll have to find out after we're done here."

When he kisses you, you both know that the resulting pictures are going to flood the gossip sites, fan pages, and everything in between as soon as the next day. But neither of you care.

He makes sure that there's no mistaking who he came with that night.

And you would never tire of showing everyone just who your boyfriend is. You could scream it from the rooftops.

He doesn't need GQ to tell him he's one of the honourees of the year.

All he needs is you by his side to feel like he's truly won.