THE LAST OF US Season 2, Episode 6: The Price
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THE LAST OF US Season 2, Episode 6: The Price
GUYS I GOT MY WILL SMITH FOR THE DAY ! THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN MANIFESTING
i genuinely love the sequence of these photos so much y'all don't get it...
Mine
Pairing: Obsessed Aerion Targaryen x wife reader
Obsessive Aerion got the most votes on my recent poll, so here it is:)
Word Count: 2.1K
Summary: You have loved Aerion for as long as you can remember, and he has been completely and utterly obsessed with you for as long as he can remember.
I haven't proof read again, sorry!
Warning: Mentions of violence, violence, obsessive love
Reblogs, comments and likes are very appreciated :)
Masterlist
My requests are open.
The day that you married Aerion had felt like a dream. You had known him for the majority of your life, for your fathers were good friends. Aerion was known for being cruel and wicked. Rude and arrogant. Yet, he had never been cruel to you.
Rude and arrogant, yes- but never was he cruel nor wicked to you. Quite the opposite, actually.
What the Princess Wants, the Princess Gets
Pairing: Aerion Targaryen x spoilt wife reader
Summary: Aerion spends his entire life trying to please you, regardless of how difficult it may be.
Word count: I haven’t checked because I’m writing on my phone in the moment, but defo shorter than usual! Part 2 will be longer
I haven’t even read this back through tbh, and wanted to include an actual plot but didn’t want to make it too long so planning to write that later as a part 2- where there is something that he cannot provide for her. I’m at work so unable to format everything as I usually do on my laptop lol.
Warning: not really any, just a spoilt lady and a pandering Aerion
Master list
My requests are open
“I felt unloved by you today.”
The sadness in your voice cut through Aerion like a knife, yet the words themselves brought a small smile to his lips.
You felt the absence of his touch as he removed his hands from your back, where he had been carefully undoing your corset. Within the second, you felt the pressure of a hand on each of your hips, and was twirled so that you now faced him.
burn me down !
or: wildfire makes your husband wild with desire/aerion in heat?
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ৡঌ༄.°• ✸ .°•༄ঌৡ
The scent of smoke and burnt copper never truly left him.
When Aerion Targaryen swallowed the wildfire, expecting to be reborn as a dragon of legend, the maesters braced for a gruesome death. Instead, the substance did something far worse, and far more terrifying: it adapted. It didn't burn him to ash; it fused with his bloodline, burning away every lingering trace of human frailty and leaving behind a creature of pure, predatory instinct.
Before the wildfire, he used to steal you away to the hidden corners of the Red Keep's overgrown godswood, far from the prying eyes of the court.
You remembered one evening in particular, just before everything changed. The summer air had been soft, smelling of crushed pine needles and damp earth. Aerion had been entirely a prince then—polished, arrogant, and draped in rich silks—but the moment he was alone with you, the sharp edges of his public persona would melt away. He had pulled you onto his lap beneath the weeping branches of an ancient oak, his fingers gently unbraiding your hair just so he could feel the strands slip through his hands.
"They think I only care for crowns and ash," he had murmured against your temple, his breath warm and steady, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet, protective warmth. "But they don't know that my world begins and ends right here. I would burn the Seven Kingdoms to the ground before I let anyone take you from me."
He had kissed you then, a slow, deep promise that tasted of sweet wine and pure devotion. It was a memory you clung to like a lifeline, a beautiful contrast to the nightmare your life had become since the night he drank the green fire.
Now, that sweet memory felt a lifetime away.
For a full moon’s turn, Aerion had been a ghost. The proud, arrogant prince who used to haunt your steps and demand your undivided attention had vanished into the shadows of the holdfast. From your window, you had watched his new, broader silhouette pace the battlements at night like a caged beast. By day, the letters you sent him were returned unopened.
Sitting at your vanity in the quiet of your chambers, the rejection gnawed at you, twisting into a bitter, heavy ache. You stared at your reflection, wondering if your love had finally found a light more dazzling than yours. Perhaps the wildfire hadn't just changed his body; perhaps it had burned away his affection for you entirely. You feared he was seeking someone else—someone stronger, a highborn maid worthy of the dragon he claimed to be—or that he had simply grown bored of a mortal girl now that he felt like a god.
You had given him your heart when he was just a proud, flawed prince. To think he had cast you aside the moment he attained the power he always craved was a betrayal that made your chest hollow.
But the air in your room was growing unnaturally thick, swallowing the evening chill. The heavy iron doors of your chambers were bolted from the inside, yet the familiar, rhythmic thudding of boots in the corridor made your breath hitch. It was followed by a low, vibrating growl that shook the very floorboards.
The temperature spiked, the air tasting suddenly of sulfur and dry heat. Then came the sound of leather and metal scraping against the wood, followed by a heavy, desperate lean against the door.
"Open it," a voice rasps. It barely sounds like Aerion anymore. The polished, lyrical voice of the prince you loved is gone; this is deep, jagged, and dripping with an unnatural, feverish heat. "Open the door, little bird. I know you're in there."
Your hands tremble as you stand, caught between the ache of his weeks of silence and the terrifying intensity radiating through the wood. You slide the heavy iron bolt back.
The door doesn't just open; it is violently shoved inward. Aerion crashes into the room, his massive frame nearly filling the doorway, and the sheer physical presence of him forces you a step back. He looks like a man who has been wrestling with demons in the dirt. His silk shirt is discarded, leaving his torso bare, his skin a roadmap of pulsing, dense muscle and violet veins that glow with a faint, sickly green light beneath the surface.
He is vibrating, his muscles twitching with a frantic, overcharged energy, but his luminous green eyes lock onto yours with a frightening, possessive focus.
"I told you," he hisses, his voice a jagged ruin. "I told the guards to bar the way. Why aren't you away? Why are you still here?"
"You've been avoiding me for a moon's turn, Aerion," you say, the pain in your chest finally boiling over into a trembling defiance. "If you want a new companion—if you want me gone—you only have to say it. Don't hide from me like a coward."
He took a jagged breath, his chest heaving. The smell of ozone and hot metal was overwhelming.
"I stayed away to save you, you fool," he growled, his luminous green eyes fixed on yours with a frightening intensity. "The fire... it’s not just in my blood anymore. It’s a hunger. A rut that doesn't end. If I touch you, I won't be able to stop. I'll break you. I'll consume you until there's nothing left but ash."
"I'm not afraid of you," you whispered, taking a step toward him.
"You should be!" he roared, slamming his fist into the stone wall beside him. The masonry cracked under the force of his new, unnatural strength. He slumped against the wall, his head hanging low, his long silver hair damp with sweat. "I love you so much it's rotting me. Every time I smell your skin through the vents, every time I hear your footsteps in the hall, the dragon screams to claim you. To mark you. To keep you in a cage where no one else can even look at you."
He looked up, and the raw, unhinged devotion in his gaze was more piercing than any blade. He wasn't just a prince anymore; he was a territorial beast, barely holding onto the leash of his own mind.
"I am a monster now," he rasped, his eyes darting over your face as if memorizing it before he lost control. "A beautiful, golden monster. And I am starving for you."
He didn't wait for your permission this time. He crossed the distance in a blur of heat, his hands catching your waist and lifting you off your feet as if you weighed nothing. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin so hot it felt like a brand.
"Tell me to leave," he begged, even as his grip tightened possessively, his fingers sinking into your hips. "Tell me to go. Tell me you want to be free of me. I love you so much I cannot bear to hurt you when my desire takes over. Because if you don't... I'm never letting you out of this room again."
He didn’t wait for you to answer. The moment your hands came up to cup his face, the fragile wall of his restraint crumbled completely.
With a low, desperate sound, Aerion buried his face in the crook of your neck. He was crushing you against him, his massive arms wrapping around your waist like iron bands. Yet, for all the terrifying, animalistic power humming through his muscles, the way his lips pressed against your skin was unbelievably tender. It was a frantic, worshipful heat, his mouth tracing up your throat to your jawline, leaving a trail of scorching kisses that made your skin tingle.
"I thought I lost you," you whispered into his damp silver hair, your fingers tangling in the strands. "I thought the fire took whatever love you had for me."
"Never," he choked out, the word vibrating violently against your chest. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his luminous green eyes swimming with a desperate, wild adoration. "The fire changed everything else. It made me a monster, it made me mad—but it only made this louder.” He brought your hands to his chest, his heart thrumming frantically. “It’s the only part of me that still feels human. You are the only thing keeping me anchored to the earth."
His hand came up to your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle given the bruising grip he’d had on your hips just moments ago. His thumb, rough and intensely hot, traced the line of your lower lip.
"When the fire takes me, I forget my own name," he whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, unhinged vulnerability. "I forget the throne. I forget my father. But I never forget you. Your face is burned into the back of my eyelids. Every beat of this broken heart is just your name, over and over again."
You leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss into his palm despite the unnatural heat radiating from it. "Then don't run from me anymore, Aerion. Let me stay."
A shudder ran through his entire frame at your words. The territorial, predatory gleam in his eyes flared brighter, but this time, it was laced with a profound, aching relief. He loved you with a ferocity that bordered on religious devotion; you were his sanctuary, his goddess, the only beautiful thing in a world that had suddenly become loud and violent.
"You are my rib," he growled softly, a feral but deeply devoted smile breaking through his exhaustion. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed as if you were the most precious heirloom in the Seven Kingdoms. "My little bird. The dragon’s heart. If you stay, I will worship you until the flesh rots from my bones. I will give you everything I tear out of this world."
He lowered you onto the mattress, shifting his heavy body over yours with an agonizingly slow deliberate care. His hands pinned yours to the pillows, fingers interlocking tightly, sealing the bond. Even as the primal heat of his rut demanded total surrender, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, breathing you in.
"I am yours," he swore, his voice a dark, possessive vow that echoed from the very depths of his altered soul. "In this life, or in the ashes of whatever comes next."
The mattress groaned under his newfound, dense weight as he shifted completely over you. He pinned you, his massive chest pressing down until the air left your lungs in a breathless gasp. He felt massive, broader and heavier than any man had a right to be, his entire torso radiating a terrifying, feverish heat that bled straight through the layers of your shift.
"Aerion," you whined, the sheer, primal gravity of him overwhelming your senses.
A low, vibrating growl rumbled in his throat—a sound so deep you felt it resonate inside your own ribs. His hands, calloused and burning like hot irons, slid up from your wrists to cup your face. He wasn't gentle, but there was a desperate, frantic reverence in the way his large fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat.
He consumed your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with a bruising, hungry urgency. He tasted of smoke, copper, and a wild, intoxicating heat that made your head spin. You gasped into the kiss, and he used the opportunity to growl against your lips, his hips bucking down against yours in a heavy, involuntary twitch of pure, unadulterated need. The friction was electric, sending a sharp jolt of desire straight to your core.
He broke the kiss, panting heavily, his breath scorching your lips as his gaze racked over your face. His glowing, toxic green eyes were completely dilated, the violet edges swallowed by a dark, manic lust.
"You're so small," he rasped, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper as his large hands slid down your neck, tracing the delicate line of your collarbone before gripping the fabric of your shift. "So soft. I’ve been dreaming of breaking you. Of taking you until you scream my name to the gods."
With a single, effortless twitch of his hands, the linen of your shift tore open down the middle. You shivered as the cool air of the room hit your bare skin, but the cold lasted only a fraction of a second before Aerion replaced it with his own blistering heat.
His mouth tore down your jawline, burying itself in the crook of your neck. He bit down hard enough to leave a deep, possessive mark. You cried out, your arching spine lifting off the bed as a wave of intense pleasure rushed through you.
"Mine," he growled against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, bruising your flesh as he forced your legs apart. He crowded himself between them, his thick, heavy thigh pressing hard against your aching center, creating a friction that had you sobbing out his name. "Tell me you're mine, little bird. Tell the dragon who owns you."
"I'm yours, Aerion—gods, please," you begged, your fingers digging into the tight, corded muscle of his bare shoulders. His skin felt like polished stone, shifting and rippling beneath your fingertips with terrifying power.
He groaned, a loud, unhinged sound of pure triumph. He reached down, his fingers finding your wetness, and you buckled against his hand. He was completely feral now, his movements devoid of courtly patience, driven entirely by the frantic, roaring rut in his veins. He stroked you roughly, his thumb smearing your heat over your clitoris until you were weeping, your hips chasing his hand in a desperate bid for release.
"Look at what you do to me," he gasped, his forehead dropping against yours as he guided his swollen, aching length against your entrance. He was massive, hot, and twitching with a desperate need to claim. "I am a god, and I am begging at your feet."
He didn't wait. With a heavy, relentless thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you in one deep, unyielding stroke.
The fullness was staggering. You threw your head back, a loud sob tearing from your throat as your body stretched to accommodate his massive, unnatural size. He froze above you, his entire body trembling violently as he held himself deep inside you. The veins along his arms and chest flared a brilliant, luminous green, pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat.
"Gods," he choked out, his eyes rolled back slightly in sheer, agonizing ecstasy. "You're so tight...so warm. You're squeezing me to death."
He began to move, and all sanity left the room.
It was a brutal, relentless pace. Aerion possessed you with a feral, animalistic rhythm, his heavy hips slamming against yours with a force that rattled the heavy wooden bedframe. Every thrust was deep, bottoming out against your womb, filling you with a blistering, white-hot sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.
You clung to him like a drowning survivor in a storm. Your legs wrapped tightly around his thick waist, riding the wild, unhinged waves of his lust. The room faded away; there was only the smell of sulfur and sweat, the slap of his heavy torso against yours, and the terrifying, beautiful sight of the monster who loved you with a madness that defied the heavens.
"Sweeter than the fire," Aerion roared, his pace turning frantic, desperate, as he sensed the end drawing near. He leaned down, pinning your hands above your head again, his chest crushing yours as he drove into you harder, faster, completely lost to the beast. "Burn with me! Let it consume us both!"
The friction built to an unbearable, agonizing peak. Your walls clamped around him tightly, triggering your orgasm in a sudden, violent rush that made you scream his name into the empty room.
Hearing your release broke whatever microscopic shred of restraint Aerion had left. With a loud, guttural roar that sounded like a dragon breaking its chains, he delivered three final, devastating thrusts, burying himself as deeply as physically possible inside your twitching body.
He came with a violent, shuddering intensity, filling you with a deep, scalding heat that felt as though the wildfire itself was pouring into your womb. His entire body went rigid, the luminous green light beneath his skin flaring to a blinding brilliance before slowly, agonizingly fading back into the deep violet of his veins.
He collapsed over you, his heavy, sweaty chest heaving against yours, his breath coming in ragged, exhausted gasps. He didn't pull out; instead, his arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into his side and burying his face back into your hair.
ৡঌ༄.°• ✸ .°•༄ঌৡ
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In the Hockey House Kitchen… 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓳𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝔂
𝒢𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒽𝒶𝓂⁴⁴ 𝓍 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑’𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
2.4K words
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ coach’s daughter!reader, secret relationship, possessive!garrett, praise, risk of getting caught; in the hockey house kitchen, fingering, handjob, briefff oral (m.) language, teasing, edging, pet names (baby, pretty thing, my girl, gorgeous + no y/n), oh && he refers to himself as a good boy + refuses to leave ☺︎ ⋆✴︎˚。⋆
You’re barefoot in the kitchen, hair still damp from your shower as you measure out some sugar with the little spoon. A to-go cup for Garrett. And a mug for you.
You stir without really thinking, watching the little sugar crystals disappear into the swirl as you hum some song from the bar last night, lingering in the back of your mind. Ding!
The toast pops out of the toaster. You walk over to the fridge to pull out some jam. You bend at the hips, reaching for the little glass jar tucked behind the mess.
A whistle cuts through the kitchen. You already know who’s standing behind you.
You glance back and sure enough, there he is, caught mid-stare, duffle slung over his shoulder, dressed head to toe in Briar U Hockey workout gear. His dark curls are sticking out from beneath his hat, still messy from sleep, and the gold chain around his neck catches the kitchen light when he shifts.
theodore not x fem!reader smut (18+)
theodore tortures you for making him jealous
a/n: inspired by this post. so yummyyy
banner by @uzmacchiato
maybe pissing your boyfriend off wasn't the best idea. you whined and groaned as you looked down at theodore. his cheeks were slightly flushed and you noticed the slight change in his breathing yet there he was, not moving, one arm behind his head while the other held the cigarette he smoked, and staring right back at you. he had that look on his face, the one he always has when he knows he has the upper hand.
Gardening Session
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.
What an honor indeed.
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.
At last.
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.
Prince Aerion Targaryen.
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.
Judging you.
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.
Ah.
So today, your tantrums would earn you nothing.
Too bad
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.
Your portraits.
Three already, and all placed prominently.
Oh
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.
But you did neither.
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.”
Oh really?
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.
He knew it.
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.
No.
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.
To your lips.
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.
Fucking hell.
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.
Too close.
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.
You froze.
For perhaps the first time in your entire life, no sharp remark came to your lips.
You couldn’t think.
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.
By the Seven.
You needed your chambers.
And where were your maids when you needed them ?
You needed this cursed gown unlaced before it strangled you entirely.
Needed to think.
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.
“Sister?”
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.
And worst of all…
Every time you mind wandered toward the dragon prince — toward his voice, his smirk, his fingers, his lips—it always returned to his tongue.
Seven hells…
Surely a bit of distance from Prince Aerion would rid you of all of these ridiculous feelings.
It had to.
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..
—that was enough.
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.
Wise boy.
Aerion watched him disappear with grim satisfaction before finally turning back toward the lioness.
And gods—
You looked furious.
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.
Gods, he was close.
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.
And his lips
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—
You would kiss him.
And he did leaned 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..
Oh
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.
Not quite choking you.
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.”
You froze at his words.
What could he mean?
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
And so was he
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.
“Oh please, shut up.”
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 🫶🏻
© nanascharms, May 2026
choking aerion while riding him as he’s starting to get overstimulated (😮💨)
this is so hot. we know i think aerion is pathetic, loves to give it the big show until it's time to perform. and whilst i do think at first he would do well, he would know just the pressure points to have you breathless beneath him, it would soon falter. and you would end up atop him, breasts bouncing in his face as he struggles to maintain his own breathing.
"ready to claim defeat, husband?" you moaned, a wicked smile on your face as you looked down at him.
his cheeks were flushed, eyebrows knotted together viciously as the pleasure bit at his throat. his stunned manner was clear to you, he had become so lost in how you felt and how you looked, he did not think he would last much longer.
"nothing more to say?" you laughed, taking a hand from his chest to place at his neck. squeezing the sides gently, willing his eyes to look up at yours.
he nodded, eyebrows now tilted upward as he relinquished control. "feels so good, wife."
and even if you could see his complexion reddening, attempting to remove your hand from his neck to allow him to breathe, his hand locked over yours. pushing your fingers further into his throat.
ONLY MINE. - Aerion Targaryen
SUMMARY - You were laughing with a knight and Aerion is not happy about it.
CONTAINS - SMUT, aerion is controlling, aerion is insane as usual, dacryphilia?? (if u squint)
A/N - managed to make time for this piece, please have mercy on me lol
“You found him amusing,” Aerion murmured, his voice a low purr as he advanced, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards.
i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight | modern!au aerion targaryen (18+)
masterlist ❈
summary: your boyfriend and star striker for king's landing fc, aerion targaryen, is hurt on the pitch during what you all assumed would be an easy away match against a low-ranking rival football club. what follows is weeks of torment and - mercifully - subsequent relief. author's note: i'm bad at summaries! footballer!aerion is hurt during a match and his teammates have convinced him that fucking his girlfriend in season is the problem and will cause him more suffering (def not based on personal experience. not at all. you think this happened to me? never). also i'm not british i'm just a long-suffering arsenal fan and i know he'd make an annoying football player
pairing: modern!aerion targaryen x f!reader part one of two word count: 5245 warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: modern setting
Teach Me Part 2
Aerion ‘Brightflame’ Targaryen was anything but inexperienced when it came to women. So imagine your surprise when the simple act of kissing left him a stiff awkward mess under your fingers.
part 1 here
Teach me
Aerion ‘Brightflame’ Targaryen was anything but inexperienced when it came to women. So imagine your surprise when the simple act of kissing left him a stiff awkward mess under your fingers.
part 2 here
aerion betrothed to a good girl reader who everyone thinks is an angel and he thinks shes just pretty and boring but she turns out to be obsessed with dragons (and him) so they lowk match each others freaks
Dragon Tamer
Warnings ✩ blood kink, biting, breeding kink, smut, Aerion and his use of the word whore
A/N ✩ yes yes yes!
──── ✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧ ────
The first time you saw Aerion Targaryen, only one word could describe him truly, and that was dragon.
Your betrothed was everything like the mythical beast and more. Cruel, terrifying, unpredictable.
More often than not people whispered about him like he was a monster hiding under their beds. They spoke in hushed gossip about how cruel he was. About how much they pitied you.
You were to be thrown to a man who thought of himself as a real dragon. A man made of cruelty and delusions. It should have been enough to drive any sensible maiden away. But little did they know—you had been obsessed with dragons since your childhood.
You were excited to meet Aerion, despite what people said. You rode to the Red Keep without protest. Your mother kept glancing at you, as if she expected you to burst into tears. Your father keep repeating that there were always other men. To them, they did not want to give away their most prized possession to a creature that might destroy you, but you weren’t worried about that.
You were presented yourself to the Royal Family in the way you always did. Quiet, meek, and respectful, the very opposite of Aerion.
He had watched you with a hard stare and a teasing smirk on his face, like he was waiting for you to mess up. He was waiting for a little lamb like you to stumble so that that the dragon could devour it, but that never happened.
To his surprise, you turned out to be no lamb at all. There was nothing soft or tender about you; at least not on the inside.
On the outside, you put on the mask of a perfect Lady of the realm. Doing your duty, never talking back. There was absolutely no indication that you had another side to you at all. Aerion was, by all means, completely unprepared.
The first time that he saw it was on your wedding night. As soon as the door closed and the last spectator made their way out — on Aerion’s orders, of course. The dragon does not like to share — you pounced on him like no woman had ever before.
You were ravenous, your lips on his before Aerion could even blink. One of your hands came to tangle in his silver hair and the other pressed against his chest. You felt his heart beating while your lips moved against his in a perfect symphony; far too orchestrated for it to have been the first time. You had experience that you most certainly should not have had, evident in the way you had also bitten his lip, which made Aerion wince.
It was only when you began sucking on it, moaning at the iron taste, did he manage to breathe again.
“My, my. What is this?”
He pushed you away and looked at you with dark eyes, his curiousity piqued. The blood coming from his lip stained his mouth and left a bitter taste, but Aerion was anything but. In fact, the dragon prince was quite excited to see your desire, and your eyes dark with lust. “You are no lamb at all,” he mused.
“I never was,” you told him. A shy smile formed on your face as you stroked his cheek, admiring your work. “I’ve always thought myself more of a dragon tamer.”
The jest earned a genuine laugh from him. It was sharp but not cruel, and Aerion was indeed entertained. What he initially thought was going to be a very boring night suddenly turned into a very interesting game.
“Oh, is that so Krubōñe?” He teased you in his native language. The word rolled off of his tongue and filled you with more desire, even without knowing its meaning. You nodded eagerly.
“Let me show you,” you whispered, pushing him again. “Let me worship the dragon as they did in Old Valyria.”
You first started by sinking to your knees. Your hand trailed itself over his body and you palmed him through his breeches, relishing the way he weakened slightly. He cursed as you swiped the area with your tongue, and then he laughed when you undid the string with your teeth.
“Fucking hell. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, whore?”
You responded by taking his cock deep. You hollowed your cheeks and breathed through your nose, using your hands to play with his balls while you sucked. You felt satisfied as the action caused him to become weak, the words on his lips dying.
They were replaced by the sweetest of grunts, ones that urged you on greatly. You smirked as one of his strong hands tangled in your hair. You knew what he was doing. Aerion attempted to take control by setting the pace, but he failed miserably.
He ended abandoning his hope when you used your hand to stroke whatever flesh your throat could not reach. With the combined sensations, coupled with the fact that you kept looking at him through your eyelashes, he was completely at your mercy.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop! Stop!”
You pulled away with a grin and soft giggle, your eyes shining mischievously. You knew exactly why he pushed you away and it made you feel smug.
“Oh, you think that was funny, do you?” Aerion hissed. He glared down at you, trying and once again failing to hide his obvious weakness.
You smiled teasingly. “No. But I will when I have you aching for me.”
You lifted yourself from your knees and abandoned him. Instead of continuing your pleasure, you began to undress, trying to tease him.
First you laid back on the bed and removed your clothing. It wasn’t much; only a sheer gown that your maids had dressed you in. They made sure that you were brought to the prince with as little barriers as possible, and it made it easier to expose your body to him.
Aerion tried to act as if it was not interesting, but you saw the way his eyes glazed over. He was hungry as he watched your hands trail over your body, sucking in a sharp breath when you touched yourself.
Your circled your bud like you had many times before, but this time you did not look away from him. You made sure that Aerion saw every emotion on your face, every draw of breath, every whimper.
You used it to reel him in, making him curious as to what it would be like with him pleasuring you instead.
You even went as far as to start moaning out his name. As your fingers glided in and out of your wetness, you let it slip and had the please of watching him come undone.
“Aerion…fuck. Aerion.”
He did not last much longer. His resolve disappeared in an instant. One moment he was across the room, staring at you, and the next he was hovering over you.
His face was twisted in desire and his lips were twisted in a snarl. He was angry as he yanked your hand away from your cunt, denying you of your own pleasure.
“I did not give you my permission to come,” he growled.
You smirked at him. “That is because I do not need it.”
In an instant, you pushed him down and then you were on top. You swung your legs over his waist to hold him down, and it was Aerion at your mercy.
At first he had struggled. He had tried to push you off. His violet eyes were blazing with a wounded pride but it quickly went away again as soon as you began stroking him again. When he relaxed, you giggled because you were right. He still glared at you, but he ached so badly that he no longer tried to reverse your position.
“That’s it…be a good dragon for me. Let me worship you, please.”
You leaned down to undo his breeches and Aerion, for once, had no protests. He allowed you to do just that, groaning when you stroked him again.
He was painfully hard, that you could tell. His cock stood eagerly and he was already leaking preseed by the time you lined him up with your entrance.
When you finally sank down on him, the two you moaned in unison. It soothed the aches that both of you had been left with, but your husband still was not satisfied. Aerion’s hands came up to trap you against him and he forced you to let him set the pace. He was not as kind as your previous lovers. Nor was he forgiving. Aerion was harsh as he pounded into you, staking his claim like any dragon would.
He did not let you escape, nor did he give you the satisfaction of teasing him any longer. He took what he wanted, oblivious that you gave it to him, and he groaned as your sweet cunt consumed him.
“Fucking Gods, you’re a menace,” he whispered in your ear. His teeth grazed your skin and his words made you shiver. You felt yourself losing control slightly the harder that he fucked you, so you decided to take it back.
You buried your head in his shoulder and you bit him suddenly. Not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make him bleed. His hot blood coated your teeth and made your mouth taste bitter, but you kept going because Aerion groaned louder, seemingly spurred on by the action.
You could feel his hips faltering the harder that you bit. His pace weakening with every thrust. You groaned as you were forced away from him, Aerion grabbing your hair harshly. He decided to repay you by not letting you move at all, forcing you to take him.
There was seldom you could do to escape him. There was no way to run from your pleasure. It overtook you as Aerion seemed to exactly which spot to tease, and he did not relent like you did.
Instead he fucked you through it, half-smug and half-mesmerized as you came undone.
Your cunt tightened around him and you let out the sweetest of moans. Pain mixed with pleasure when Aerion paid you back in blood, his own teeth sinking into your neck.
He bit you in a place that was the most obvious; where every one was sure to see his mark. He did not want his claim on you to be subtle at all and he grinned. Blood dripped from his lips as he reached his own peak, making sure that you took every last drop of him.
You might not have been a dragon, but you were to sure to carry one. He would not let you win so easily. Aerion would do everything he could to ensure that the flames of his seed licked at your womb. He would make sure that you knew you could not bring a dragon to its knees so easily—though you both knew that there still plenty of time to try it.
Wine and A Pretty Wench
Aerion Targaryen x wife!reader - A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
Summary: Dunk accidently mistakes Aerion's lady wife in his tent for a common whore because she did not arrive with the rest of the Targaryen party to the Ashford tourney. This is a oneshot, not related to any series.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ p in v, unprotected sex, possessiveness, power imbalance, dubiously consensual situations, Aerion wants to roleplay, pregnancy mention, talks about killing, Aerion has insane ideas, breeding.
The morning of the tourney had dawned bright over Ashford Meadow, the kind of morning that promised glory and broke that promise before the sun reached its zenith. You had watched the Targaryen party arrive from the shade of the pavilion, your hands folded, your spine a straight line of practiced composure. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, red on black, snapped in the wind, a sight that still made your stomach tighten.
Dunk, Ser Duncan, now, though it sat awkwardly on his broad shoulders, stood near the lists with his squire, a small, shaven-headed boy with sharp eyes. The hedge knight watched the procession with a wariness that bordered on rude, his great height making him impossible to miss among the crowd of lords and ladies and smallfolk alike. He had heard the whispers, same as everyone else. Prince Aerion Targaryen was coming to Ashford. Prince Aerion Brightflame, they called him. Some called him other things, though not to his face. This one, he had heard, was cut from different cloth entirely.
The prince was fair to look upon, all the Targaryens were, with hair like spun silver and eyes the color of violets, a sharp jaw and a mouth that seemed perpetually on the verge of a sneer or a smile, and it was difficult to tell which was which. He wore black riding leathers chased with silver thread, a cloak of deep crimson slung over one shoulder, and he did not look at the smallfolk who gathered to gawk. He looked through them, as if they were made of glass and of no consequence.
Duncan watched him dismount with an easy grace, handing his reins to a squire without a word of thanks. The prince stretched, rolled his shoulders, and cast a lazy glance across the meadow toward the rows of tents and pavilions that had sprouted like colorful mushrooms overnight.
“I am for my tent,” Aerion announced to no one in particular, though his voice carried well enough. It was a pleasant voice, cultured and smooth, with an undercurrent of something that made the hairs on Duncan’s arm prickle. “Tell them to bring wine. Something red, from the Arbor, if they have it. None of that Dornish swill.” He paused, and a slow, private smile curved his lips. “I, myself, shall be finding a pretty woman to share it with.”
Chuckles followed. A couple of Kingsguards shared a knowing look. Duncan frowned. He had heard, somewhere in the jumble of heraldry and gossip that accompanied any great tourney, that prince Aerion was married. To some lady of a lesser house, a match that had raised eyebrows among the high lords but had been pushed through by the prince’s father, Maekar, for reasons Duncan did not pretend to understand. A wife. And here the prince was, speaking of finding a pretty woman as if he were a knight with nothing but a horse and a sword to his name. Duncan’s sense of honour, simple and stubborn as an ox, bristled at the casual dismissal. A man wed was a man wed. He ought not speak so.
But Duncan was no fool, not entirely. He kept his frown to himself and watched the silver-haired prince stride off toward the largest of the black-and-crimson pavilions, his cloak billowing behind him, and he thought, not for the first time, that the blood of the dragon was a strange and unsettling thing.
my saddle's waitin' - evan buckley x reader
Buck should avert his eyes.
Buck should definitely avert his eyes before he starts drooling.
"You're drooling." Eddie's amused voice comes from next to him.
Shit.
When Bobby had selected you, Buck, and Eddie to compete in the 51st Firefighter Games in Nashville, Buck had been ecstatic. Going on a trip with two of his best friends? It was exactly what he had needed to decompress.
And even though Bobby was alive and well post-lab, retired and tending to a very complicated herb garden, Buck had guilted the two of you into saying that poor Bobby would want the LAFD represented by only the best after the year he had.
So the three of you had came and conquered. Or not conquered exactly, since LA had tied with Nashville, but hey, at least you guys were bringing home $12.5k.