warnings: mentions of smut, death, and pregnancy. aerion isnt the nicest—but he warms up
THE GREAT HALL
Known for it’s grandeur, it’s throne of swords, and lines of dragon skulls from decades past. They had been moved one day, to accommodate for you, Aerion, and the thousand men and women who’d come to your wedding feast. It was a loud, overstimulating, miserable affair.
You sat at the high table, next to him, granting smiles and giving gifts, all in vain. For your gifts would be his by the end of the night.
“The only gift you need is the one I shall put inside of you, tonight,” Aerion whispered.
And a gift he gave.
AERION’S CHAMBERS
It smells of musk and sandalwood. A few curtains billow in the light night breeze. The tapestries are of silk and depict dragons, bloodlust, and royalty. The bed is of thick furs, and has enough space for four people. Still, he sticks to you like glue. Sweat and weight hold you down. Eye contact keeps you from protesting, lest you desire.
You try and focus on the silks above the bed. The smell of sandalwood. The dagger on the distant table. A forefinger and a thumb bring you back to him.
His brows go furrowed, “Look away again, Y/N, and I’ll have your eyes removed. Look at me only.”
It sounded more like a plea than a threat.
THE MAIDENVAULT
He had been reading up the histories. He stumbled upon the story of Baelor and his three sisters. The Spring Sickness was continuing to spread. His cousin lie on his deathbed, as his grandfather.
You, with child.
You begged him not to.
Why would he listen to you?
When your hands begun to blister and bleed from the continuous banging, he finally spoke through the large locked door.
“I do this for you,” his voice muffled, “Our child. I will see you, an hour or so each night.”
The visits started off that way. Until, he stayed longer. Ate meals with you. Spent his nights in there.
“I only stay incase you were to go into labor,” he said.
When you asked once again that night, he muffled into the pillows, sleepily, “You have a way about you. One I cannot find in a whore or a maid.”
THE TOWER OF THE HAND
You cannot say you’ve been. Aerion won’t allow it.
“Two hundred or so steps,” he says, “What if you were to fall? You could be injured. I will die before such a thing happens.”
content warning: 18+ mdni | smut | m!masturbation | alcohol consumption | explicit sexual fantasies | mentions of: pornography, oral (f!receiving), p in v, daddy kink, biting, hair pulling
masterlist ────୨ৎ──── taglist
Aerion was having one of those nights. The kind where everything felt too heavy, too much. The shop had been a nightmare—two no-shows, one engine block dropped on Daeron's foot, and Maekar had been breathing down his neck about the accounts all day. Aerion had barely made it through his front door before cracking open a fresh bottle of whiskey, the first one he'd bought in weeks because he'd been trying to "do better," whatever the fuck that meant.
Now he was three glasses in, sitting on his couch, his phone in hand, staring at your contact like it might reach through the screen and punch him in the face. The living room was dark except for the blue glow of the TV, some shitty action movie playing on mute. He should turn it off. He should go to bed. He should stop thinking about you.
But instead, he was scrolling through your photos. The ones he'd saved over the years, the ones he told himself he kept for Maegor but really, really didn't. There was one of you at the river last summer, Maegor sat on your shoulders, both of you were squinting into the sun. Another from Maegor's birthday where you were holding the cake and laughing at something Rhae had said. And then there was the one he shouldn't have. The one he'd taken when you were both drunk at his trailer a few months ago, with your shirt pulled down, your tits in his hands, your face flushed and smiling. He'd told you he was deleting it. He never did.
His cock was already twitching in his jeans, half-hard just from looking at you. He groaned while adjusting himself. The whiskey was making everything feel a little too good, a little too sharp. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the couch, and tried to think about something else. Anything else. But all he could see was you. The way you'd looked that night of the picture. With your hair all wild, and your lips swollen from kissing him, the way you'd moaned when he touched you, like you needed it as much as he did.
He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before bringing his phone back up. He figured was already going to hell anyway. So he clicked on your name, pressed the phone to his ear, and waited for you to pick up. He knew you were asleep. It was almost midnight, and you had to work tomorrow. But he couldn't stop himself.
"Hey, baby," he started when he got your voicemail, his voice already rough from the whiskey and the need coiling in his gut. He unzipped his jeans as he spoke, letting his hand slip into his boxers to wrap around his cock. "I know you're sleepin', but... fuck, I can't stop thinkin' about you."
He stroked himself slowly as he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back. "Remember that time in my truck? When we drove out to the river and you climbed on top of me? Fuck, you were so wet, baby. I could feel you through your jeans. You were ridin' me like you were tryna kill me, I had to bite down on your shoulder and I loved every fuckin' second of it."
He groaned, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum while the next string of slurred words tumbled out of his mouth. "I'm touchin' myself right now. Thinkin' about how you looked with your tits bouncin' in that little tank top. And the wind was blowin' your hair all over the place. You were so fuckin' sexy. You still are. Drivin' me crazy."
"I wanna fuck you so bad, baby. Wanna bend you over the hood of my truck again, pull your hair until you're cryin', just like you like. Remember how you sounded? Beggin' me not to stop? God, I could listen to you beg all night." His hand moved faster, his hips now thrusting up into his fist as he kept thinking of the two of you together.
The whiskey burned in his throat, but he didn't care. He was too lost in the memory, in the fantasy of you. "I wanna taste you, too. Wanna put my mouth on that sweet little pussy until you're screamin'. You always get so fuckin' loud when I do that. Remember when Maegor was at my dad's, and we had the whole place to ourselves? I ate you out for hours, baby. You—god—you came so many times I thought you were gonna pass out. Best fuckin' night of my life."
He was panting now. His grip tight, his movements growing more desperate by the second. And his phone was pressed so hard against his ear it was probably leaving a mark. "I was watchin' this video earlier this week. Some porn shit. Whatever. This girl was gettin' fucked from behind, and she was... fuck... she was callin' the guy 'daddy.' And all I could think about was you. You callin' me that while I'm balls deep inside you. Fuck, baby, I'd give you anything if you said it just once."
He choked out a laugh and his head fell back again. "I know you won't. I know it's not your thing. But I can't stop thinkin' about it. About how fuckin' hot it would be. You, lookin' back at me with those big eyes, tellin' me to fuck you harder. Callin' me— Christ, I'm gonna come just thinkin' about it."
His strokes became erratic as the heat built. He was trembling and whimpering at the image of you back in his bed. "I miss you, baby. Fuck, I miss you so much. I miss wakin' up next to you, miss makin' breakfast with you, miss watchin' you with Maegor. But I mostly miss this. Miss how you feel, how you fuck me like you're never gonna let me go. I'm still yours, you know that? Even if you don't want me anymore, I'm still fuckin' yours."
The orgasm hit him hard; his body tensing and his cock pulsing in his hand as he spilled over his stomach. He moaned your name, a low, broken, drawn out sound. The phone slipped from his ear to land on the couch beside him. For a minute, he just sat there, chest heaving, watching the room spin from the whiskey and the intensity of it all.
Finally, he picked up the phone again, his voice now taking on that soft, tender tone he sometimes used when actually speaking to you. "Anyway. Just wanted to... I don't know. Fuck. I'm drunk. Don't listen to this. Delete it. I'll see you tomorrow when I pick up Maegor. Love y— Good night, baby."
He knew he'd regret it in the morning. Knew he'd probably made a huge mistake. But as he wiped his hand on his shirt and stumbled to the bathroom to clean up, he couldn't bring himself to care.
When he finally crashed into bed, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from you. He smiled in the dark as his chest tightened with what felt a lot like hope. So he fell asleep with the phone in his hand, the glow of the screen lighting up his face from where he'd left it open to your message thread:
content <𝟑 .ᐟ 18+, toxic + needy!aerion & f!reader, choking / breath play, mention of m. masturbation, 1 pussy pronoun.
aerion is frustrating to deal with even when he’s on best behavior. gods help you, you love him— you love him so much, but he’s mean to you.
he’s terrible, he’s venomous. sometimes he wakes up mad at the world and everything it has yet to offer him. he decides you’re the best person to take it out on. you’re sweet and pliant and perfect for his wrath whether it’s making snippy, borderline harsh comments or pounding you into the mattress until you’re drooling. you’re not sure how exactly he picks which way he wants to control his madness. you’ve tried to memorize any kind of pattern but they eventually dissolve when he makes a move you couldn’t manage to predict.
you’ve had enough.
“what— what the fuck are you doing?” he snarls down at you.
the rhythm in his hips falters, coming to a messy grind as his eyes flutter shut because you’ve lifted a hand, and your delicate fingers have curled around his throat with a firm grip. a hold that mimics his own whenever he grabs you up and forces you to make proper eye contact with him. “c’mon, knock it off.”
he tries to claw it away with his own digits wrapping over your wrist, blunt nails digging into your skin as a warning before he uses his actual strength. but you shake your head against the pillow you’re resting on, swallowing down a whine when he ruts into you just right and nearly folds you in half under him from the force of it. you regroup and ignore the way your cunt flutters around him beyond your control. you use your grip to yank him down until his lips hover over yours, watching his hazy eyes go wide with shock at your daring display.
“apologize to me,” you huff out, a soft sound falling from your lips after. you squeeze his throat and he gasps like he’s losing himself already, his hips surge forward with need and you watch his eyes roll back for a split second through your own half lidded gaze. you purr your words out, pride swelling in your chest, “apologize for being so rotten to me this morning, aerion.”
“baby,” he whimpers pathetically, breathlessly— shivering under your touch. his own hands glide over your soft skin. he’s holding your waist with reverence, then your hips, before his fingers finally sink into your thighs and guide you into that position he knows liquifies your brain in your skull, “you know i didn’t mean it. i never do, pretty girl.”
“then apologize, or i’ll make sure the only thing that’s getting you off for the next month is your own hand.”
aerion’s breath gets caught up in his throat at that, pulse fluttering against your fingers and his adam’s apple bobbing under your palm. he no longer cares that you have him right where you want him. not even a little bit. his pace picks back up, knocking sounds out of your chest and his own with every movement. every time he sinks into you and finds that heavenly little spot hidden in your cunt, he has your thighs twitching against either side of his waist.
he’s not good at talking, he’s not good at being nice …
but he is good at this. he’s good at fucking you senseless and making you melt under him, and he wants to keep doing it. he needs you wrapped around him one way or another and clinging to him every single day, or he won’t feel complete.
“‘m so sorry, baby.” he moans his words. he licks his lips, then shakes his head once as if he’s trying to think straight and navigate through the molten pleasure that settles in his taut muscles. he presses his heated forehead to yours, a desperate gesture that’s dewy with sweat, “so fuckin’ sorry. i’m gonna make it up to you and your sweet pussy, i promise— just don’t take her away from me.”
Includes: Duncan the Tall, Daeron Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen, Valarr Targaryen x f!reader
Summary: How the AKOTSK’s finest bachelors would react to breaking the bed with you under them
A/N: Is it obvious I have a favorite👀
Dunk realistically can’t afford a bed (no shade), more likely sleeping with you tucked away with him on a pallet but if he could, he’d lose his mind over breaking it with you under him. Forget the bed, he’d be pulling out, much to your dismay, in 0.2 seconds, asking whether or not you were alright, berating himself for being a fool, checking all over you for injuries. He would feel so bad, especially if it had been your bed he was breaking. There’s absolutely no way he’d keep fucking you, unless you begged really hard, and even then he’d still be overly gentle, probably only eat you out and it’d take more than a week to get him inside you again. You’d have to pick a day when he’s especially tired from working and pliant enough to do whatever you say. Unfortunately for him, this would definitely happen more than once just because of how unaccommodatingly large he is. It would get to the point where he would make a new bed for the two of you instead of bothering to haggle with some traveling tradesman, and you best believe all this bed breaking has to stop when he gets you pregnant. The first time, that is.
Daeron wouldn’t notice until you pulled him gently by the hair away from between your legs, and even then, he wouldn’t care as much as Duncan would. As soon as it was clear neither of you were hurt, he’d go back to licking and sucking and occasionally biting, doing anything and everything to make you cum. Getting pussy drunk was more healthy than getting wine drunk, you see. He’s 100 percent a certified eater, sloppy and hungry and needy (quick everyone act surprised!!) In all seriousness, Daeron is a sweet boy, really! But he’d definitely leave the bed like that for a day or two to get on your nerves and tease you any time you saw it, but it had a stronger effect on him. Every time he walked into your shared quarters, he couldn’t fend off the boner just from seeing how wrecked the bed was, memories flooding his mind of the sounds you made, the faces you made, etc. His plan backfired completely. He has to drag you away from your ladies-in-waiting as politely as he can, claiming an emergency when he knows damn well he just wants to fuck you. You’d be annoyed at first, but when he says it’s the dreams that have been plaguing him and he needs a distraction, you can’t help but give in. In truth, he hasn’t had any memorable dreams ever since he started fucking you. You will also be walking away from this encounter pregnant, if you walk away at all.
Aerion is a dragon you guys. Dragon-adjacent at the least. He’s a beast in and out of bed, so a little wear and tear is not to be feared, but expected. He does care about breaking the bed, but he’s a little more focused on pumping as many heirs as possible into his pretty wife. You’d push a few times at his broad shoulders, too breathless to communicate properly, and he’d shush you. “I see it, wife. Relax. If you continue to clench like that, you’ll cut off the cock you so dearly admire.” You would feel your face getting hot, but a smile also threatening to curl at your lips. Aerion was jesting. Not only was he teasing you, he thought it was funny that he’d destroyed the bed. Aerion is brimming with energy almost all the time, he has to be to be the excellent swordsman that he is. He’s trained himself to not get tired at the most taxing of tasks, so you’d go for a few more rounds in the cracked bed despite your protests that one of you could get hurt. They were hardly protests, though, just softly mumbled words mixed in with sharp whines and moans as Aerion all but jackhammered you until you saw the gods. You’d be so out of it by the time it was over you’d hardly register him carrying you, fully nude, to lay on the plush carpet with a blanket around the both of you, your head in his chest and your thighs coated in an intimate mixture of your cum and his. You’d awaken to a new bed already set up, clothes set out for you, and no Aerion, which could be perceived as insulting, but this was an act of intense kindness from him. Third time is not the charm, and one again, you are crawling away pregnant.
Valarr my perfect prince who deserves the world. This would be his first time having sex and he’s finally getting into the rhythm, letting out little pathetic whimpers into the crook of your neck, his thrusts speeding up, and then crack! He would be so fucking embarrassed but he can’t show it, he’s the prince! So, logically, the only way to not show it is to keep his face hidden from you while you stroked his hair, mumbling praises. It would take you saying “It’s alright, husband,” a million times before he would continue. I have seen very dominant depictions of Valarr, but with all the pressure that must be on him mixed in with his father, one of the few adult figures he could turn to, getting absolutely brained he has to have developed some form of a praise kink stemming from the need to be comforted. Whether it be subtle or obvious, he needs constant reassurance inside the bedroom. He might cry, not the first time you have sex, but a few incidences later, once he’s a lot more intimately familiar with you. He would move the both of you into a new room for the night while servants fixed up the bed or brought in a new one, and his cheeks would flushed at the few side-eyes the maids give you two. Lucky you, you will walk away from this unscathed, no pregnancy. I cannot guarantee your safety in the future, though. Valarr has a breeding kink, FOR SURE, also enforced by the pressure and expectations he has had thrust upon him his whole life. It’s not as bad as Aerion’s breeding kink, but it’s not far away from that level, either.
+18, DARK THEMES, masturbation both f and m, obsessive behavior and stalking (initially digital, then in-person), blurring of boundaries between professional and personal relationships, emotional vulnerability and manipulation (unintentional!!!), mentions of cum, oral and a happy trail yay yum!!! there will be a part 2 ᥫ᭡
aerion targaryen scrolled through his phone in the darkness of his room, his thumb moved with practiced ease through instagram, past influencers and celebrities until he found your page…
he'd discovered you by chance, a suggested account that had caught his eye, you were an enigma wrapped in pixels, and aerion was instantly obsessed. for weeks, he visited your page daily, liking every post within seconds of it going live. he studied your face through the digital, memorized the curve of your hip as you posed in lingerie against led-lit backdrops. you were art, you were commerce, you were everything his privileged life lacked-raw, unfiltered authenticity, even in its artificiality.
then he found the link in your bio.
your username flashed on his laptop screen, cyberg1rl. aerion adjusted himself in his chair, heart racing as he entered the password to the exclusive site. the video loaded, and there you were, larger than life, moving with practiced sensuality in front of cameras that captured every angle of your performance.
he created an account: si1verdragon. simple enough to be overlooked, specific enough that you might notice.
the first time he typed in your chat, you were mid-performance, arching your back and playing with your tits over a pretty sparkly push up bra as you rode a silicone toy mounted to a chair. your eyes flickered to the chat window as his message appeared.
si1verdragon: you're so beautiful
you paused, a genuine smile breaking through your performer's mask. "thank you, silver dragon" you breathed, continuing your movements. "that's so sweet of you to say."
aerion's chest swelled. you'd noticed him. you'd said his username.
night after night, he returned. he learned your schedule, your preferences, the way your breath hitched when someone tipped generously. he never missed a show, his comments always respectful, almost reverent, in a sea of crude demands and graphic suggestions.
the tipping began subtly. a few tokens here and there, enough to make his username flash briefly on the screen. but as aerion's obsession deepened, so did his contributions. he started dropping substantial amounts during your shows, watching as your eyes widened each time his username appeared with a significant donation.
one evening, the chat was flooded with typical requests- harder, faster, show them more
si1verdragon: [tip: 500 tokens] take your time.
you paused mid-movement, your eyes finding his username in the chat. "well, someone knows how to treat a lady," you purred, your voice sweet with appreciation. "thank you, silver dragon."
aerion's hand moved to his groin, already hard from watching you. as he watched you, his fingers wrapped around his weeping length.
"do you like watching me touch myself through these panties?" you murmured.
aerion groaned, his strokes quickening as you slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing yourself through the damp fabric. "they're so wet already," you breathed. "all for you. all for my silver dragon."
his tip notifications became more frequent, each one larger than the last. the other viewers faded into the background as your attention focused increasingly on him.
"i hope you are super hard for me," you continued, "i bet you'd love to feel these wet panties on your cock, wouldn't you?"
aerion could only nod, though you couldn't see him. his strokes grew more frantic as you pushed the panties aside, revealing your glistening folds. the sight of your fingers circling your clit, combined with your explicit words, pushed him closer to the edge.
with a final, desperate thrust of his hips, aerion came, his sticky warm coating his hand and stomach. as he recovered, breathless and sated, he watched you finish your own performance, your eyes locked on the camera as if you could see him through the screen.
he tipped again generously, watching as the notification appeared on screen.
si1verdragon: [tip: 1000 tokens]
you started seeing him everywhere. not in person, but in your digital space. his username si1verdragon appearing in your comments, your dms, your live streams with increasing frequency. he was becoming more than just another client, he was becoming a presence.
your breath hitched at the amount, nearly double what he'd ever sent before. as the system automatically switched you to private mode, you felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with apprehension.
the video loaded, and at first, you saw only his pale stomach, the defined lines of his abdomen disappearing into the waistband of his dark boxers and what seemed to be a happy trail leading down...then, as he shifted position, you saw it, his cock, already hard and straining against the fabric.
"hi, silver dragon," you breathed, your voice already dropping into that seductive, intimate register reserved for your most generous clients. the sight of him, even just this partial view, had heat pooling low in your belly. "five thousand tokens...you really know how to get a girl's full, undivided attention."
you leaned closer to your camera, making sure the soft lighting caught the sheen on your lips. "tonight is all about you. we're going to start with a little... appreciation. i'm going to rate that big cock of yours, tell you exactly what i think of it. then, if you're a good boy, i'll give you some very specific instructions on how i want you to touch it for me."
your gaze drifted back to the screen, to the thick outline straining against the dark fabric. "you're already so hard for me…and that happy trail...i have a thing for happy trails." you licked your lips slowly.
you watched as his abdominal muscles tensed at your words. he was responsive, and you loved it. "before we really get started, though, i need to know," you said, your tone softening just a fraction. "what should i call you? do you prefer silver dragon, or do you have a real name you'd like me to moan while you stroke yourself for me?"
there was a pause, just the sound of his slightly ragged breathing through the speakers. then, a low voice rumbled through your speakers, sending a fresh jolt of arousal straight to your core.
"aerion," he said. "my name is aerion."
a smile spread across your face. "aerion," you repeated, letting the name roll off your tongue, tasting it. "it's a beautiful name."
his only response was a sharp inhale as his hand finally dipped below the waistband of his boxers. he freed himself, and the sight made your mouth water. he was perfect. long and slightly thick, with a satisfying heft even through the screen. the skin was pale like his stomach, but the head was a flushed, angry pink, already beading with a single, perfect drop of precum. prominent veins mapped a path up the shaft, and his fist looked so good wrapped around it.
"rate it," he commanded suddenly, his voice firm. "tell me what you think."
you studied him carefully, your gaze tracing every vein, every contour of his perfect cock. "ten out of ten," you said honestly. "perfect length, perfect thickness. the way it curves slightly to the left...it would hit all the right spots."
his breath hitched at your words, his strokes becoming more erratic. "keep going," he urged.
your hand instinctively moving down to rub yourself through your already damp panties. you shifted your position, giving him a better view as you slipped your hand inside the lace.
"the thickness is going to feel so good stretching me out. and those veins…i'd love to feel them inside my pussy and on my tongue…"
his breathing grew heavier as he began to slowly fist his cock, his movements deliberate and controlled. "you like that?" he rumbled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
"i love it," you moaned, your own fingers finding your clit and circling it slowly. "your voice makes me so wet, aerion. hearing you talk while you stroke that perfect cock for me..." you locked eyes with your camera, imagining you were looking directly into his.
his response was a low groan that sent shivers down your spine. "show me how wet i make you," he commanded.
your eyes remained fixed on the screen, on the way his hand moved up and down his shaft, on the bead of precum that welled at the tip and dripped onto his stomach.
"wasn’t i supposed to be the one giving you the instructions?" you giggle,
"you are," he confirmed, his voice a deep, velvet purr. "and your instructions are making me desperate to see what they're doing to you. show me. please?"
the command in his voice was undeniable, you bit your lip, thinking it over for a second and you found you didn't mind one bit.
"okay," you breathed, your voice a little shaky with arousal. "since you asked so nicely."
you shifted, angling your laptop to give him the perfect view as you leaned back against your pillows. slowly, teasingly, you hooked your thumbs into the sides of your soaked lace panties and drew them down your legs, tossing them aside. you spread your thighs, your pussy glistening in the soft glow of your ring light.
"fuck," he groaned, the word guttural and raw. his hand tightened around his shaft, his strokes pausing for a moment as he just stared. "you're so pretty..."
you used two fingers to spread your folds, giving him an unobstructed view of your slick, swollen clit. "can you imagine trying to fit in here, aerion?"
you watched as he resumed stroking, his pace now faster, more desperate. the sight of his fist pumping that perfect length while he stared at your exposed pussy was almost too much.
"now," you said, your voice firming up as you remembered your role. "since you've had your look, now i want you to spit in your hand."
you heard the sound, a wet, slick noise that made your own pussy clench. "good boy," you praised. "now, wrap your hand back around your cock. i want you to start with long, slow strokes. all the way from the base to the tip, twisting your wrist just a little when you get to that perfect pink head. do it for me, please, aerion? show me how you'd fuck me with it."
his breath hitched, and he obeyed instantly. his hand moved in a slow, torturous rhythm, his eyes locked on the screen, on your fingers as they began to mimic his motion, circling your entrance.
"mhmmm," you moaned. "just like that. don't you dare go faster. not until i say so."
his pale stomach contracting as his breath hitched audibly. his hand, which had been moving with such deliberate slowness, faltered for a moment.
"aeri," you purred, drawing out the syllable.
you watched as his strokes resumed, the slick sound of his spit-lubricated hand filling the quiet room. he was trying to maintain the slow pace you'd commanded, but you could see the tension in his forearm, the way his hips wanted to thrust up into his fist.
"you like that, don't you?" you continued, your own fingers slowing to match his languid pace, "you like it when i tell you what to do. you like it when i give you a special name?"
his only response was a choked-off groan, his head falling back against the pillows. you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the frantic pulse beating in his throat.
"i said slow. or do i need to stop touching myself completely? is that what you want?"
"no," he bit out, the word sharp and immediate. "no. i'll be good. i'll go slow."
he forced his hand back to the agonizingly leisurely rhythm, and you rewarded him by sinking one finger knuckle-deep into your dripping heat. you both moaned at the same time.
"i'm so full already, and it's just my fingers. how am i ever going to take all of you?" you added a second finger, stretching yourself for him.
that was it. that was the breaking point. with a guttural curse, his control shattered. his hand became a blur of motion, flying up and down his cock with a desperate, frantic energy. the sound of his fapping filled your speakers, loud and wet and utterly obscene.
"i'm sorry," he gasped, his voice strained. "i can't... fuck... i can't go slow anymore. i need to cum. please, let me cum for you."
you moaned, your own fingers speeding up, plunging into your wetness as your thumb worked your clit in tight, fast circles. “i wish you’d cum in my mouth aerion, then i'd flip over and let you fuck me from behind and fill me with another load.”
his body went taut, a perfect, pale bow strung with tension. his back arched off the bed, he came. thick, white ropes of cum striped his stomach and hand, some even reaching his chest. it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
"tell me what you'd do if you were here," you whispered, still playing with your naked body on display.
aerion's breath caught at your words. "i'd touch you everywhere. i'd memorize every inch of your skin with my hands, my mouth."
your breath hitched, and your movements became more frantic. "i'd kiss you," he continued, growing bolder. "i'd make you forget every other man who's ever watched you, ever touched you."
"god, yes," you gasped, your back arching as you brought yourself closer to the edge. "i want that. i want you."
the words hung in the air between you, charged with meaning and possibility. aerion watched you reach your peak, crying out his name. a blinding, pulsing wave of pleasure that left you gasping and shaking against your pillows.
for a long moment, the only sounds were your mingled, ragged breaths.
the silence that followed was thick, heavy with the aftermath of your shared release. it was different from the usual post-show quiet. this wasn't the empty void after a performance, this was a charged, humming space filled with unspoken words. you watched as his chest rose and fell, his body still splayed out on the bed, a masterpiece of pale skin and satisfaction.
you propped yourself up on an elbow, not even trying to hide the admiration in your eyes. "i don't usually enjoy the private shows this much."
"i don't usually pay for company," he admitted, a hint of something raw and honest in his tone.
"i enjoy your company, aerion.”
"then let me see you again. another private show. tomorrow?"
you hesitated, a flicker of your old, cautious self reasserting itself. this was the path to complication, to heartache. "maybe," you replied, your voice playful. "message me tomorrow and we'll see."
the promise, however noncommittal, seemed to satisfy him. "i will," he said firmly. "goodnight."
"goodnight, aerion."
the screen went black.
the next day, you ignored his message. and the day after that. and the day after that.
you told yourself it was for the best. you were getting in too deep. lines were blurring. this was your job, your livelihood, and aerion was becoming a liability to the emotional armor you'd spent years building. the memory of his face was too potent. it made you want things you couldn't have.
so you stayed offline. you didn't go live. you didn't post to your story. you let the notifications from si1verdragon pile up, unread.
you okay?
did i do something wrong?
please just tell me if you're alright.
on the last one he had used your real name, you stared at it, your thumb hovering over the screen, a war raging in your chest. how did he know it? did you ever tell him? you can’t remember now. you were being cruel, you knew that. but it was better than the alternative. it was better than letting him in completely, only for it all to fall apart.
on the fourth day, you caved. you couldn't bear the silence anymore, but you couldn't face him either. so you went live. you laughed and teased and performed for the faceless masses, collecting tips and praise like you always did. but your eyes kept flickering to the chat log, searching for a username that never appeared.
he wasn't there.
a strange, hollow feeling settled in your stomach. he was respecting your silence. he was giving you space. it was exactly what you'd wanted, but it felt like a punishment.
halfway through your show, a new notification popped up, but it wasn't a tip. it was a private message request. your heart hammered against your ribs as you clicked on it.
the username wasn't si1verdragon. it was a new one, one you'd never seen before: aeri0n_t.
i'm outside your building. i just wanted to make sure you were okay.
your blood ran cold. he knew where you lived? he knew where you lived.
your phone buzzed again. another message.
i'm not leaving until i know you're okay. i'll wait down here all night if i have to.
you looked around your apartment, at the familiar comforts of your own space, and suddenly it felt like a cage.
just realized i had never announced it, but i am on a hiatus! thank you all for the love and support. just feeling burnt out and not where i want to be mentally.
I’m popping back in to say I’ve re read all ur akotsk fics so many times!!
Uve genuinely ruined me for other fics. I tried reading other fics but nope! Immediately went back to ur blog thinking it’s just not hitting right!! Respectfully take responsibility for the damage Uve done to me😩😩 my brain chemistry has been altered PERMANENTLY?!!
warnings: age gaps, AERION, innocent reader, alludes to smut
a/n: a drabble because i’m busy
Your new husband, Aerion, was old enough to be your Father. Twenty years your senior.
The age difference would have been the source of scandal anywhere else in the world, but in Westeros, it sadly more common than not.
Aerion found a wicked pleasure in your young innocence. How you’d begged him to forbid a bedding ceremony. How his jests about your still-growing breasts flew over your head. He loved every moment of it, and relished in the fact knowing he would be the one to ruin such a beautiful, youthful, virtuous, girl like you.
You, on the other hand, had skipped many lessons with your Septa leading up to the wedding, knew very little about what was supposed to happen the night of your wedding.
Luckily, he was glad to teach you.
“What are we to do, now?” you asked, with your back to him as he shut the door to his chamber.
He had taken his time closing the door after letting out the maids and the servants, leaving you both completely alone.
His gaze remained fixated on you like a predator, eyeing its prey. With slow, long-legged strides, he approached until he was standing right behind you. He loomed behind you, his chest practically brushing against your back.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and low, “We consummate.”
He brought a hand to your hip, his palm pressing against your thigh. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of your body against his, his hand running slowly along your side.
As he stood behind you, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the nape of your neck. His hot breath left a trail of fire on your skin as he nuzzled into the soft, sensitive area.
“Turn around,” he murmured against your skin.
You did as he told you to. Looking up to him doe-eyed, and innocent and a little shy. Your breath hitched as his gaze met your own, intense and deep. Gulping, you tried to speak, but Aerion shushed you before you could. He already knew.
“No need for words,” he said as his hands cradled your face.
“B-But, my Septa never—”
“Hush,” he demanded, his thumb now pressing into your lips. “A million lessons with your Septa could never prepare you for me,” he chuckled, “No one could.”
“You’re mine now,” Aerion continued, “And I intend to thoroughly educate you.”
“Is it going to hurt?” you asked, breaking his gaze and looking at the patterns of the cold stone floor instead.
“If you do as you’re told, no,” he smirked, “Resist me, and I’ll make sure it does.”
He backed you against the bed, the back of your knees touching the mattress. You weren’t used to such a close proximity. Especially with a man. Something poked you in the thigh, but you were smart enough to know what it was. Still, you couldn’t help but ask for reassurance.
“You’ll guide me, husband?”
“Every step,” he affirmed, “Now sit and spread your legs. I’ll show you what a real man is like.”
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ Warnings: +18, NSFW , horny and pent up aerion, injured aerion, aerion lowkey deceives his sister, innocent reader, handjob
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ AN: I'm still working on that Daeron one-shot, please accept this as my humble offering-
Summary: Big brother needs your help.
Following the events of his shameful battle of the Seven against Ser Duncan, Aerion had remained abed to recover from the ordeal.
He groaned as the thick wooden door to his chamber opened. Yet his eyes lit up when his sweet sister entered.
“Mm sister- come here-” He managed to stammer out.
He had been in bad shape for a couple of days now, his leg cut up, arm broken, hand broken and not to mention all the other cuts and bruises.
A whimper left him, mattress dipping under your weight when you sat down. Aerion sat up in bed a little further.
You looked at him with big curious eyes. Something that made his skin even hotter.
“How are you feeling?” You asked, placing a hand on his sheet covered thigh.
“Ah.” Aerion groaned, “Not there, it hurts there!”
You raised your brows at his reaction, yet removed your hand anyway.
Even though you had no idea, that single touch alone had gotten him uncomfortably stiff. He hadn’t laid with a wench in days and due to his broken left arm and broken right hand…
Well he hadn’t exactly fucked anything at all.
His eyes darkened as they raked over your body, perhaps his sweet sister would be willing to help her older brother out?
“Why are you here?” He asked suddenly, a bit too sharp for how he had meant it.
“Oh- I just wanted to see you. How you were…” You replied sheepishly.
“Well, I am in pain. Unable to move…” He started, looking at you to gauge your reaction.
“Yes?” You waited.
He placed his wrapped broken hand atop your soft one.
“I do… really… need your help.” He smiled, if he fucked up, his father would finish what Ser Duncan couldn’t.
“With what?” You asked innocently.
“Now see, sister, I have a slight problem. One I can’t fix due to my incapacity at the moment.” He murmured.
You looked at him expectantly, curiously.
“Sometimes, men endure something they cannot control, yet when not taken care of can hurt. And your injured brother cannot take care of it right now, so it hurts.” Aerion explained- or rather crafted, cautiously.
“What hurts? Should I get a Maester?” You asked concerned, already leaping from his bed.
“No, no Mandia (sister). They can not help me, but you can. Normally I’d do it myself…” Aerion explained, making it sound like some mundane task.
“But you cannot.” You finished for him.
“Exactly, will you be a good girl and help me?” He asked oh so sweetly, drawing you into his web.
“Of course I will, you know this. Now tell me what I must do.” You sat back down next to him.
“It is better if you join me, by my side.” Aerion suggested, drawing back the sheets.
Blinded by innocence you did as you were told, climbing in his web…or bed. Still too far away from him for his liking, he urged you closer.
When your shoulder touched his bare one, you were close enough to see something strange in his breeches.
“Is that…the problem?” You asked him, almost pointing at it.
“Good job sister, it is. Now don’t be afraid, I’ll show you what to do.” He pressed his side against you.
“Will father be angry about me helping you? He actually told me to leave you alone-” You started.
“No, you're just helping your brother in need. But he mustn't know.” Aerion urged.
You nodded obediently.
“So how do I help you?” You shifted next to him, a bit unsure about his intentions.
“I’ll guide you, first pull down my breeches.” Aerion ordered, still with a kind voice as he did not want you to run off to father.
Surprisingly, you did as he told without hesitation. Carefully peeling down his breeches and exposing his hard cock to the cold Ashford air.
Aerion hissed at the contact.
“It really does hurt…” You quietly exclaimed, holding his breeches down awkwardly.
“Mhm, now pull them down a bit more.” Aerion sighed, ready for this welcome release.
You did as he said, before sitting up straight again, looking at his cock curiously.
“Now just put your hand around it, like you would take a sausage.” He grimaced at his own reference but you seemed to understand well enough.
A moan left Aerion’s lips when your warm hand enveloped his length, the bare skin on skin shooting hot pleasure up his spine.
“N-now just hold on to it while you- carefully- move your hand up and down.” He looked at your hand around him and cried out as you started to stroke his cock.
“Like that, yes!” He groaned, eyes rolling in the back of his head. Being this pent up did him no good, luckily you were here.
“Pump your wrist quicker, a bit higher- yes! Yes like that!” He moaned loudly, way too loudly, yet he couldn’t seem to care.
“Mmmh! So good- Fuck!”
“Tighter- a bit- faster- Aahh-”
“Good girl- good girl- fuck-”
A broken moan left his lips when you squeezed his tip harder, sending him right over the edge.
You flinched as weird, sticky white fluid came out of him, yet fascinated by the sight and Aerion’s moans.
“Ooohh…” Aerion whined, all his pent up cum finally leaving his stones.
When he had somewhat calmed down, you still held his length awkwardly, your hand covered in his seed.
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
