Aerion Targaryen x Lannister!reader
Author’s note : this is my first fic, and I’m not sure if I like it or hate it.. 🫤 I was considering making it into a series but I don’t know yett
- this work contains : SMUT It’s basically porn with plot, mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, aerion gets jealous, gardens sex ? Reader is mean, rude, kinda lunatic and spoiled but fucking ambitious. She kinda match Aerion’s freak. Aerion being Aerion.. they are both freaks Summary : The Targaryens are invited to the nameday celebration of a Lannister lady, and the cruel Prince Aerion — forced into attending at first — finds himself unexpectedly intrigued by the sharp-tongued lioness. By the end of the festivities, what began as boredom and irritation turns into dangerous obsession and possesiveness.
The birth of a daughter was never celebrated as greatly as the birth of a son.
Yet the gods seemed to have favored you. Though you had indeed been born a girl, you were no ordinary one found anywhere in the realm as you were born a lady of House Lannister.
And the gods had been generous still, blessing you with remarkable beauty. But behind your pretty lips lay a tongue as sharp as Valyrian steel, a trait that was perhaps the true reason for your lack of suitors.
You had been of marrying age for quite some time now, yet your arrogance and biting wit were enough to discourage even the boldest lordlings.
Perhaps the true issue was the way your parents had spoiled you rotten, granting you everything you had ever desired. Yet how could they ever deny their precious princess anything?
Your father, Damon Lannister, The grey Lion had even organized a grand tourney in honor of your nameday — perhaps the most extravagant celebration the realm had ever seen. The royal family, House Targaryen, had been invited as well.
Though King Daeron himself would not attend, whispers spread through the halls that his sons and grandchildren would be present.
Yet marriage had never truly interested you. You knew it would come eventually, as it did for every noblewoman, but your ambitions stretched far beyond those of the other ladies at court.
You did not dream of marrying a lord.
Because deep down in your heart you wanted a prince.
Today, the Targaryen princes were to arrive. And you had specifically requested your maids to braid your hair in the way valyrians used to do —based on the knowledge you had learned during your history lessons with your septa—with intricate silver ribbons woven delicately through the strands. If dragonlords favored beauty reminiscent of their own blood, then you would give them exactly that. And perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to get one of the princes favor.
“You look ethereal, my lady,” your thoughts were broken by one of your handmaidens whispering softly as she had finished tightening the laces of your gown.
Your gaze remained fixed upon your reflection in the mirror, carefully studying every detail before a faint smile tugged at your lips.
“Please save your breath for something I do not know already,” you replied coolly. Your eyes glacing at her through the mirror and the handmaid lowered her eyes at once. You enjoyed the way they submitted to you this easily.
You rose from your seat with practiced elegance, smoothing your skirts before speaking again, your tone calmer now, though no less arrogant as you changed the topic.
“Tell me… do you think one of the princes might take an interest in me?” you asked but you weren’t exactly expecting an answer as you were admiring your reflection in the glass. “I believe I would look quite lovely as a princess…”your smile was as sharp as your tongue and arrogance.
“you may fetch me the family jewels. The ruby necklace.” You ordered the same maid as your neck was too plain and simple for you and knew your mothers rubies were the only thing missing to make yourself look even more perfect than you already were.
You had remained standing before the mirror, waiting for your maid to return with the rubies already imagining the heavy crimson stones resting against the pale skin of your throat. Rubies suited a Lannister far better than sapphires ever could. Well gold and red were the colors of power.
Later that afternoon, you had found yourself seated in one of the sunlit galleries of Casterly Rock, taking tea with your ladies in waiting whilst awaiting the arrival of the royal family.
The harbor bells had rung nearly a quarter hour ago, announcing the arrival of the Targaryens at the port below, yet still they had not appeared within the Rock itself.
And your patience was wearing dangerously thin.
Lady Redwyne, one of your ladies in waiting was seated at your right hand, and had spent those same endless minutes stuffing herself with lemon cakes whilst gossiping loudly about some Reach lordling no one truly cared about.
Your duty demanded that you remain there, smiling sweetly and entertaining noblewomen, when you could already have been at your father’s side, charming princes.
You finally set your teacup down with quiet precision before finally speaking.
“Tell me, Lady Redwyne…” you began smoothly, your eyes drifting toward the half devoured platter of cakes. “Has your house fallen upon difficult times of late?”
The chatter around the table died at once.
“You do seem terribly hungry today. I merely wondered whether House Redwyne could no longer afford proper cooks.” A fake smile touched your lips as you kept going "It would explain why you insist upon eating enough for three ladies.”
A deep flush spread instantly across the Reach girl’s cheeks. Her hand froze midway toward another cake.
Several ladies lowered their gazes to hide their amusement and giggling.
Lady Redwyne opened her mouth to answer, indignation already burning in her eyes, but before a word could leave her lips, your attention was drawn elsewhere.
A few yards away, your father — Lord Damon Lannister, the grey Lion— stood amongst a gathering of crimson-cloaked guards, offering greetings to the newly arrived royal party.
Then the lord of Casterly Rock glanced toward you— his only daughter and beckoned you forward with a single motion of his hand.
You rose with grace to your feet, smoothing your skirts of cloth-of-gold, your ruby necklace gleaming at your throat on full display as you excuse yourself to your ladies in waiting — though you were not sorry at all and quite please to finally leave— before making your way toward the dragons.
Your father was already greeting the royal guests with all the pride and grandeur expected of the lord of Casterly Rock when you arrived, before finally motioning for you to step forward to introduce you properly.
“Your Graces,” the lion lord began smoothly, “allow me to present my daughter.” Pride could be seen in your father eyes, you were a beautiful young woman, the only issue was your behavior but your father expected you to behave during the festivities.
You dipped into a graceful curtsey, your ruby necklace glimmering beneath the golden light of the hall.
Your sharp eyes first settled upon Prince Daeron.
The prince possessed none of the striking silver-gold beauty one expected from the blood of Old Valyria. His hair was a darker shade, more golden than silver, tousled from the long journey, and his tired lilac eyes seemed clouded by wine and exhaustion alike. Even standing still, he looked as though he would rather be back in a winesink in King’s Landing or a brothel in flea bottom than attending some western celebration.
Then your gaze shifted toward the younger prince.
The infamous cruel prince.
Unlike his brother, Aerion stood perfectly straight beside his father, every inch the dragonlord despite the irritation written plainly across his features. His pale eyes swept over your form slowly, lingering for several long moments upon your face, your gown, and the rubies at your throat.
You were pretty, certainly.
But pretty girls were hardly rare in the Seven Kingdoms. Every court from Dorne to the Wall was filled with maidens boasting soft smiles, bright eyes, and delicate waists, all desperately hoping beauty alone might earn them a favor from a prince.
Aerion finally looked away, though the displeased scowl upon his handsome face did not lessen.
Oddly enough, you were smiling. So the pretty prince was a difficult man. interesting, your nameday shall be entertaining then.
You had heard countless tales of Prince Aerion’s beauty, and even more of his cruelty. Yet cruelty had never frightened you half so much as dullness or boredom did. And the stories had spoken true indeed — the dragon prince was beautiful in the way wildfire was beautiful.
It is Dangerous, Unstable indeed but Fascinating.
It was decided then and there.
You wanted him. Him not another prince, you wanted Aerion Brightflame. And you would even if you had to bewitched him or something you would do it without any shame.
Whether for marriage, a night, or merely the pleasure of taming something wild, you did not yet know. But you would have the prince’s attention before the festivities ended.
“Daughter,” Lord Damon suddenly said, “perhaps you would be so kind as to show the young princes to their chambers and help them find their way through the Rock." You nearly stared at her father in disbelief. Did he perhaps hit is head too hard on a wall this morning? Or Did he mistake her for some servant girl?
You had spent half the morning preparing yourself— sacrificing your sleep to prepare early— to be admired, not to guide guests through corridors like a household steward.
“Why me? I am not a—” The protest died instantly beneath the cold warning look your father cast your way.
So today, your tantrums would earn you nothing.
You forced a thin smile onto your lips. Though anyone could see that it was a fake one.
“Of course, Father,” you replied smoothly, though the irritation beneath your voice remained impossible to miss.
Without another word, you turned sharply upon your heel and began leading the way deeper into Casterly Rock, your silken skirts trailing behind you flawlessly.
Every few moments, you were glancing back to ensure the princes followed.
The displeased expression that had once rested upon Aerion’s face now appeared upon your own instead.
Prince Daeron, likely too drunk or weary to notice, merely wandered after you lazily.
Aerion, however, noticed immediately.
And to his own surprise, the dragon prince found it amusing.
When King Daeron had first announced that they would travel west to attend the nameday celebration of some Lannister maid, Aerion had nearly scoffed aloud. Casterly Rock lay days away by horseback, and he would have greatly preferred remaining in King’s Landing — tormenting his brothers, haunting the streets of Flea Bottom, and indulging in cruelties that brought him far more entertainment than courtly feasts ever could.
Yet now, as he watched the pretty lannister storm ahead of them with fury hidden beneath elegance, Aerion began to suspect this journey might not prove dull after all.
The first stretch of the walk passed in near silence, broken only by the sharp echo of their footsteps against the stone floors of Casterly Rock.
At last, they reached Prince Daeron’s chambers.
The weary prince barely glanced around before stepping inside, already looking eager for wine and sleep alike.
“If you require anything, Your Grace,” you said smoothly, though not warmly, “I suggest you ask one of the servants. I am not known for answering foolish questions.” You didn’t even care about the fact they were princes and that you were being disrespectful, you were not happy and you would show it.
Daeron merely laughed drunkenly beneath his breath before disappearing into the room.
And then you were finally alone with him
The silence that followed lingered only a moment before Prince Aerion moved to walk beside you instead of behind. The corridor ahead stretched long and wide, lit by towering windows where the dying afternoon sun poured across the marble floors.
Richly colored tapestries lined the walls between golden sconces, depicting ancient Lannister battles, hunts, and previous Ancestors of the Casterly Rock. Everywhere one looked, wealth announced itself proudly.
The dragons upon the Iron Throne might rule the realm but the lions possessed enough gold to shame royal blood.
Aerion’s eyes were drifting toward several painted portraits hanging along the corridor.
Three already, and all placed prominently.
The prince was quick to understand what that meant.
This pretty wench was favored and spoiled— perhaps excessively so. Certainly more cherished than your elder brothers if the halls themselves were any indication.
The realization amused him.
Eventually, the silence bored the dragon prince enough for him to speak.
“I have heard songs of your beauty,” Aerion drawled lazily, violet eyes settling upon you once more. “Some even call you the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms.” A smirk slowly spread across his lips. Before spitting his next words. “But now that I have seen you…” he continued cruelly, “I can say with certainty that I have fucked whores much prettier.”
The insult was delivered lightly, almost playfully, though the malice behind it was unmistakable.
Aerion expected outrage. Tears perhaps. At the very least, wounded pride.
Most ladies wilted beneath his words.
Instead, you turned your head toward him with maddening calm, your eyes sweeping over him slowly, deliberately, Searching your words.
“Well,” you replied coolly, “I," she marked a pause, "expected you to be taller, my prince.”
One brow arched elegantly.
“It seems songs and rumors greatly exaggerate certain things.” Your gaze flickered downward for the briefest moment before returning to his face. “Before your father introduced you, I almost mistook you for a stableboy. And I find myself sharing your disappointment my prince..” she was obviously lying but it was still amusing to see her try.
Aerion’s amusement faded only slightly, though the corner of his mouth still twitched.
“Careful, my lady,” the dragon prince murmured. “Insulting a prince can be dangerous."
You only huffed and continued your walk at an unhurried pace, your golden skirts whispering against the stone beneath your feet.
“And so is provoking lions within their own den,” you replied smoothly. “It seems we share a certain fondness for danger, you and I.” Aerion did not answer immediately, to your surprise.
Instead, the dragon prince merely watched you with that same unsettling gaze, as though trying to decide whether he wished to strangle you or push you against the wall.
At last, you finally stopped before a tall oak door adorned with carved lions in the wood.
“your chambers, my prince,” you announced calmly. “The servants shall bring your belongings and those of your family before supper tonight.”
Yet as you reached for the door handle, Aerion made no move to enter.
“You are dismissing me already?” he asked lazily.
You almost laughed. What was he thinking?
"Were you expecting me to linger outside your chambers, my prince ?”
“Perhaps.” A smirk ghosted across Aerion’s lips. “Most ladies would.”
And you finally let out a soft laugh beneath your breath, the sound dripping with amusement and mockery alike.
“I fear I am not most ladies, Your Grace.”
A sharp, knowing smile crossing your lips before you turned gracefully upon your heel, your golden skirts trailing behind you as you were disappearing down the corridor before he could answer.
Aerion remained standing before his chamber door long after you had vanished from sight.
Though at first, Prince Aerion had seemed less than pleased upon arriving at Casterly Rock, he found himself increasingly entertained by your pretty sharp-tongue.
Far more entertained than he ought to have been.
Your chambers, unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — had been placed near one another, and that morning the dragon prince had lingered outside his rooms with suspicious patience, waiting for you to emerge.
At last, your door opened. The maids were the first to step outside hurrying to return to their task, even more when they saw the cruel prince. And then you walked out already dressed for the day.
As you were stepping into the corridor dressed in deep crimson silk trimmed with gold, your hair braided in curls resting elegantly over one of your shoulder.
Aerion pushed himself lazily from the wall where he had been waiting. He hadn’t been waiting that long luckily.
“I shall be jousting today,” the prince informed you confidently as you began walking side by side through the corridor.
You merely hummed in acknowledgment, clearly expecting him to continue.
“I assume you will be seated and you will watch me,” Aerion went on. “Perhaps I shall ask for your favor… though I hardly require it to win.”
That earned him a small smile from you.
“Is that an invitation, my prince?” Aerion glanced toward you before the words came out.
“A command,” he corrected smoothly. “And should I fail to see you there, I might be forced to punish your arrogance.”
You only huffed softly beneath your breath, though the corner of your mouth was twitching upward despite yourself. You were trying so bad to contain your laughter.
“Very well,” you replied with deliberate indifference. “I shall consider it.”
Aerion only nodded quite satisfied with your answer convinced that you will attend, before leaving to join his family.
Surprisingly, the seat reserved for you had remained empty throughout the entire joust.
Yet instead of feeling anger or humiliation, Prince Aerion found himself enjoying the challenge. You had ignored his command entirely, and strangely enough, that only made him desire your attention more.
In time, he would bend you to his will.
No one refused the dragon forever.
As Aerion had promised, he won against every knight participating that day, though not always fairly. Yet who would dare call out a prince of the blood openly?
By the end of the tourney, the crown of flowers still rested in his possession.
Aerion cared little for tradition. He had no desire to crown one of those simpering noble maidens his Queen of Love and Beauty.
He had reserved that honor for one lady alone. And she made herself desired.
You had been taking tea and eating cakes within the beautiful gardens of your home alongside your ladies-in-waiting — thankfully without Lady Redwyne, who had been dismissed after Lord Damon finally grew tired of hearing incessants complaints.
And the afternoon had been quite peaceful until Prince Aerion decided to interrupted it.
Ignoring the other ladies entirely, the dragon prince requested that you accompanied him for a walk.
You were wandering slowly through the gardens side by side under the warm western sun.
“You did not come to watch me joust,” Aerion stated as you walked along the stone paths.
“I did not,” you answered calmly.
He turned to look at you — and stopped.
The sun shining upon your face made you look almost ethereal beneath the golden light of the gardens. You curls gleaming like molten gold, and the warmth upon your skin only sharpening the dangerous beauty you were carrying so effortlessly.
Now that he thought about it, Aerion had been so certain he had seen prettier women before… yet as he found himself lost within your pretty eyes, he realized he could no longer remember when.
His gaze slowly drifted lower.
And there, at the corner of your mouth, lingered the faint stain of blackberry jam.
The sight alone sent sudden heat and hardness curling low within the prince’s crotch.
Aerion imagined for one reckless moment that it was not jam staining your mouth at all.
“Must you eat like a peasant?” the dragon prince asked, his voice lower now, roughened faintly by thoughts he ought not entertain.
You turned toward him at once, confused and insulted in equal measure, already preparing one of your venomous replies but before you could speak, Aerion stepped closer.
His thumb brushed slowly against the corner of your lips, wiping away the dark stain with deliberate care. The touch lingered just long enough to make your breath catch softly in your throat.
The prince’s pale violet eyes never left yours.
Then, without hurry, Aerion brought his thumb to his mouth and slowly sucked the sweetness from it.
For perhaps the first time in your entire life, no sharp remark came to your lips.
Instead, heat bloomed deep within your body, sudden and unfamiliar, settling low in you lower stomach as you watched the prince’s tongue glide over his finger with obscene slowness..
“Blackberry,” he murmured lazily. “My favorite.” Aerion hummed softly, savoring the taste far more than simple blackberry deserved.
His gaze dropped briefly toward your parted lips before returning to your eyes once more.
“M-my apologies, my prince… I must go. I feel quite unwell…” The proud lioness who had mocked and challenged him since his arrival was nowhere to be seen as you now stood before him as a blushing, stammering mess.
Before Aerion could answer, you turned sharply and hurried away from him, nearly fleeing through the gardens without daring to glance back.
And all the while, the dragon prince watched you leave with dark amusement lingering in his pale eyes.
The corridors of Casterly Rock felt far colder than the warm gardens below.
The towering stone walls, the endless crimson banners, the painted faces of dead Lannisters staring down from gilded frames — suddenly all of it felt suffocating.
Your heart was still pounding violently within your chest from what had occured moments ago.
You needed your chambers.
And where were your maids when you needed them ?
You needed this cursed gown unlaced before it strangled you entirely.
You were walking so quickly through the halls, so lost within your thoughts that you failed to notice the approaching footsteps behind you. Only when a hand settled upon her shoulder did you nearly jump out of your skin.
You spun around sharply, ready to curse whichever fool had dared to startle you so badly but relaxed slightly upon seeing that it was only your brother instead.
Tybolt Lannister. Your father’s heir.
“Gods, Tybolt,” you hissed beneath your breath. “Must you creep about the halls like an assassin?” Your dearest brother only laughed softly as you were throwing him daggers with your eyes.
“Are you well? I called your name at least three times.”
“What is it, brother?” You asked quickly, almost impatiently.
Truly, you only wanted nothing more than to escape to your chambers and be left alone for at least an hour before someone else decided to torment your sanity. Tybolt was studying you carefully before a knowing grin slowly spread across his face. “Since when has the prince been courting you?” Immediately, irritation flashed across your pretty features. That’s it you were going to strangle him, strangle them all.
The son of the Grey Lion already looked far too entertained by the idea of his younger sister finally attracting a suitor — and a prince no less.
“The prince is not courting me Tybolt.” You were rolling your eyes at him ready to strike your brother if he dared to open his mouth again.
“Of course he is,” Tybolt scoffed. “Why else would—” He stopped abruptly, frowning now at the genuine annoyance upon your face. Confusion flickered across his expression. He knew his sister well enough to recognize ambition when he saw it, and marrying a Targaryen prince had once sounded precisely like the sort of dream you would chase. Yet now you almost sounded angry at the suggestion when days ago you were dreaming of marrying a prince.
“The prince has not asked for my hand,” you cut in sharply. “Nor has he sought Father’s blessing. Has he?”
Tybolt opened his mouth, though no answer came.
“He has not,” the lioness continued coldly. “Therefore, he is not courting me.”
You adjusted the sleeves of your gown impatiently before brushing past your brother.
“And if you would excuse me,” you added irritably, “this dress is no longer allowing me to breathe properly.”
At last, you were finally able to retreat to your chambers in peace. Yet even within the safety of your own rooms, the strange sensation twisting low within your stomach refused to leave you. You had never felt such sensation before. Never felt your body react so violently to mere thoughts.
Every time you mind wandered toward the dragon prince — toward his voice, his smirk, his fingers, his lips—it always returned to his tongue.
Surely a bit of distance from Prince Aerion would rid you of all of these ridiculous feelings.
Because your nameday festivities would soon come to an end, and still no proper suitor had approached you openly — not with the dragon prince constantly circling you like a treasure he wished to protect and keep to himself. And you were certainly refusing to end your days as some forgotten septa because a mad Targaryen princeling had unsettled your senses.
For the next few days, you made every effort to avoid him.
Whenever you caught sight of silver hair in the corridors of Casterly Rock, you were immediately changing direction. If Aerion appeared in a hall, you vanished from it. If he entered a room, you found any excuse to leave.
At first, Aerion found the game amusing.
Then it became irritating.
And when Aerion began noticing some impudent Dornish lordling attempting to court you openly, irritation quickly twisted into something far uglier.
Jealousy and Possesiveness
The dragon prince watched from across the hall as the young Dornishman spoke to you with clumsy admiration, smiling far too boldly whilst you were answering with practiced politeness.
Aerion hated the sight instantly. You were his.
And when you were lowering your lashes with faint amusement at something the fool had said..
The prince crossed the room without hesitation, fury darkening his handsome features.
He stopped directly before you.
“Do you need something?” You asked coolly, though the undertone of annoyance in your voice was impossible to miss.
Aerion ignored you completely.
Instead, his pale eyes settled upon the Dornish lord.
“If I ever cross your path beside her again,” the dragon prince said calmly, “I shall have your head impaled upon a spike and sent back to your pathetic little house in Dorne. Is that clear?”
His tone remained so smooth, so frighteningly composed, that anyone overhearing might have mistaken the exchange for ordinary noble conversation.
The young lordling paled instantly.
“M-my apologies, Your Grace,” he stammered before quickly retreating, nearly tripping over himself in his desperation to escape.
Aerion watched him disappear with grim satisfaction before finally turning back toward the lioness.
Your eyes burning with enough rage to set the gardens aflame, and somehow the sight alone sent heat surging low through the prince’s crotch.
You had never looked so beautiful than right now.
You looked like moments away from striking him, strangling him, or perhaps both at the same time, you were still thinking.
But Instead, you spun sharply upon your heel and stormed away through the gardens.
And Naturally, Aerion followed after you.
“You dare ignore me, wench?” the dragon prince called after you.
His longer strides quickly closed the distance between you two.
You had barely made it between the tall hedges before Aerion caught your arm and forced you backward until your spine was being pressed against the greenery behind you.
That is when it hit you, Aerion stood far too close.
One hand braced itself beside your head against the hedge, trapping you neatly between his body and the leaves.
“I should have punished your arrogance the first time you dared speak to me so insolently,” Aerion murmured with anger flooding his eyes.
You could feel everything, could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could feel his breath against your skin, could smell leather, steel lingering upon him.
You were no longer listening to whatever threat the prince was whispering against your ear. Because you could only think about the way where he was standing—
if Aerion leaned even slightly closer—
Your eyes locked with his as you grabbed him by the base of his silver hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him toward you, attacking his lips like a beast worthy of the sigil of your house.
The kiss was messy and rough, every ounce of tension and desire between you finally spilling into it. Aerion’s hands settled firmly upon your hips — perhaps a little too firmly, for you would likely wake with bruises there by morning — holding you as though loosening his grip for even a second might allow you to disappear again.
You could feel everything — his hardening cock pressing insistently against your thighs as he unconsciously rutted his hips against you, the hunger and desire he poured into the kiss as low sounds escaped into your mouth. Your lips parted briefly for breath before finding each other again almost immediately, unable to remain apart for more than a heartbeat.
You could already feel the wetness gathering between your thighs your slick soaking your silks covering your womanhood as though your body had entirely surrendered to him. You were still devouring each other’s mouths, tongues battling for dominance whilst the prince’s hands wandered beneath your skirts, slowly pushing the fabric higher until he discovered the ruined silk dampened by your arousal.
Aerion’s fingers brushed teasingly against you, and the dark amusement in his violet eyes made it clear he was more than pleased to discover how wet you had become from nothing more than a bit of kissing.
“Are you sure you’re not a whore with the way you’re soaking my hand?” he asked, voice low with dark amusement as he finally tore away the silk, giving himself unrestrained access to you.
You gasped at the roughness of the gesture, scandalized both by his crude words and by your ruined silk now clenched in his hand.
Aerion only watched you with that infuriating, satisfied smirk — as though your reaction was exactly what he had been waiting for.
“Aerion!” you struck his shoulder, scandalized, as he looked at you with that familiar, maddening smirk while slipping your ruined silks into his breeches pocket.
“What?” he replied, amusement clear in his voice. “Just want a little souvenir.” You could hear the smirk even before you saw it, felt it in the way his tone dropped lower, more dangerous, as he leaned in again.
His lips returned to your neck, trailing small, deliberate kisses along your skin, while his skilled fingers wandered once more, unhurried and confident, as though he already knew exactly how easily he could undo you.
“You better not leave any marks on my neck, I am still a maiden,” you said, frowning at him even as you pushed his head closer into the curve of your perfumed throat, silently encouraging him to continue. "And I still need to find a husband.” That last remark earned you a bite against your skin.
“If you keep speaking,” Aerion muttered against your neck, his voice rough with warning and desire all at once “I will have your mouth busy with something else, wench.”
You were preparing another sharp insult, but the words died on your tongue when Aerion’s skilled fingers entered your warm cavity pulling a high pitched sound from your throat instead.
Whatever retort you had planned dissolved into moans you could no longer fully control.
The prince did not allow you the space to recover.
His mouth moved along your jaw and throat with relentless focus, each kiss messier and sloppier than the last, while his fingers were still fucking you, and tearing pretty sounds from your lips.
Your fingers were tangled in his hair almost instinctively, gripping tighter whenever his fingers reached a certain spot or the way they curled inside, stealing more gasp and moans from you— as though anchoring yourself was the only way to stay grounded.
It was hard not to notice how his hips were rutting and staining his breeches when you decided to wander your hand lower and to untie his breeches for him as his other hand was already too busy struggling to unlace the ties of your gown, in order to allow him more space to kiss your exposed cleavage.
Your hands had managed to push his pants just enough to free his aching cock from it. Your gesture made him release a deep groan as your hand got in contact with his manhood..Aerion hadn’t been stranger with woman touches as he had been visiting pleasure houses for a while now.. but you, a maiden lady was grabbing his cock like a courtisan and Aerion could swore that he almost cummed from your touch only.
He got back to himself as his hand immediately reached yours to stop you from pursuing your movements on his length, he had almost ruined his expensive pants from fingering your tight hole but your stroking would be the reason of his spilled seed, and he was planning to keep it for something else..
His reaction caught you of guard as you were throwing him a curious glance and tried to repeat your movements but when he blocked you again, you focused on the expression he was wearing and there you understood..
You were now the one smirking, ready to tease him.
“Are you sure you want to shut me up with your cock when you can hardly handle my touch, my prince?”
Aerion’s reaction was immediate.
A low, sharp grunt left him, irritation flickering across his features before he seized you again, pulling you closer as if your words had physically struck him.
Then he bit into your neck. Hard enough to bruise this time..but not enough to truly hurt, but still enough to steal the breath from your lungs and shut you up.
“You dare mocking me?” Aerion growled against your skin. “I should take your tongue for that, whore.”
His hand rose to your throat in an instant.
But holding you just firm enough to make you feel it — the pressure, the control, the silent reminder that he could end your life if he wanted to but he simply chose not to.
His grip tightened slightly as he held you there, forcing you to meet his gaze, violet eyes dark with something far more dangerous than simple anger.
He withdrew his fingers from your cunt stealing another gasp from you before putting those same fingers in his mouth, the same way he had done with the Blackberry jam he had collected from the corner of your mouth, some days ago, but this time it was your slick he was sucking from his slend fingers, this view only, could be enough to make you come undone on the spot.. He noticed the way you were rubbing your thighs together, clearly missing the sensations he had given you and then taken away from you—without any remorse..
"I was planning to fuck you properly after the wedding,” he murmured darkly, “but since you insist on behaving like a whore, I will fuck you like one.”
What wedding was he talking about?
You were so confused and struck upon these words that you hadn’t noticed him entering you with his manhood, the painful stretch made you stir from your thoughts and you find yourself grimacing at the new sensation..
this was new and very different from what you imagined as you recall the explanations from your septa about women duties when it comes to marital act, this new stretch wasn’t comfortable at first but you could still feel the same pleasant feeling his fingers offered you minutes ago but quickly you cavity got used to this stretch and the pain turned out in pleasure.. you also noticed the blood of your maidenhead coating his pulsing cock, but it did not hurt like you thought it would.
Aerion could feel himself even more aroused at the view of your blood staining his cock, he would have been disappointed to not be the first to be able to fuck your pretty cunt, his eyes searched for you as he waited a few seconds for you to relax around him before starting to move in and out, hips meetings yours while he couldn’t contain his grunts anymore
The faint pain you had felt from the stretch of him had now entirely disappeared to be replaced by the spasm of pleasure running between your thighs
The only issue was the sounds you were making, you were too loud and while you were to lost in the pleasure you were feeling to take notice how loudly you were being, Aerion did.
And someone — a maid, a noble, or perhaps worse, your father — might hear you. And Aerion could recall the frown on his father’s face when Daeron had caused yet another scandal that morning by inviting whores into the bed your family had lent him. And Aerion knew that if the Grey Lion discovered that his pretty, spoiled little princess had been ruined in his garden, Aerion might not be able to simply hide behind the excuse of being a prince of the blood. Even though, he had already decided he would ask your father for your hand once your “gardening” was over…
His lips claimed yours roughly, cutting off whatever sounds you were about to release, while his hips met yours in a rhythm that left you both breathless.
you were so perfect, this tight cunt was perfect and had been made for him to keep his cock warm, he was sure of it.
You were now a clenching mess and the way he could swallow your cries and gasps, he could sense that you were close from reaching your end
One of his hands went low enough to tease your clit by rubbing it in circle, trying to help you finish quickly as your little escapade in the hedges, unchaperoned with a prince would soonly get you into a scandal if someone was to caught you in the act.
Fortunately the combination of his cock crushing your inside out and the rubbing of his skilled fingers on your clit lead you to reach your orgasm…
your eyes were now rolled back in your skull, too lost in the pleasure you were feeling — you now understood why some of your ladies in waiting talked fondly of the bedding they shared with their lord husband— Aerion was swallowing another of your sound, this one louder than the others as your nails scratched his neck, like a lion would with his claws
and the view you offered him,
the marks you were putting on his neck, your tightness.. all of that was now enough to help him reach his end as his hips jerked off and the dragon prince filled you with his hot seed..
It took you a few seconds to regain your breath and come down from the intensity of the moment as Aerion finally pulled away from you and straightened himself.
He adjusted his pants back before moving to you, helping you retie the laces of your crimson dress. Your legs were still unsteady beneath you, your body too slow to obey you again after what had just passed between you.
You were exhausted — spent in a way that left you quiet, almost dazed, but not unhappy.
When he finished, your eyes met again.
Aerion lingered for a moment before pressing a brief, softer peck to your lips, as though nothing in the world had just shifted between you two
And then you remembered his words.
“What wedding are you talking about?” Your tone was serious again, your composure snapping back into place as you demanded an answer. You watched him closely, impatience sharpening your gaze as you both finally stepped out from the cover of the hedges.
Aerion couldn’t possibly mean it. Could he?
“Did my cock make you forget how to think, or have I finally made you entirely stupid?” he replied sharply, his cruelty returning as easily as breath. You stiffened instantly, ready to slap him for it, done with his games—
But he must have noticed the shift in your mood, because his expression changed just slightly. Less mockery. More intent.
And then he gave you the answer you had been waiting for.
“I’m going to ask your father for his blessing,” Aerion said, voice lower now, controlled. “For your hand. Even though I do not need it. I am a prince of the blood and—"
He was suddenly cut off as you raised your hand to his mouth, stopping the words from spilling out. Your eyes rolled slightly in exaggerated annoyance, though a smile tugged at your lips anyway.
Thanks you for reading <3 this is probably so messy or trashy I really don’t know what to feel about it :/ anyway if you like it you can leave a comment and if you don’t like it you can also say it as long as you are being respectful asks are opened btw 🫶🏻
