angel

Ashford tourney was supposed to be for mending long lasting alliances with the houses of the Reach. Instead, your father-by-law had lost two of his son’s on the journey, and the one that remained had managed to kill a horse during his first and now only joust. He had been banned from competing for fear the small-folk would try and pelt him to death with stones in the arena. You had been there all of three days, and you were all as sick of it as the people were of you.

Therefore when the evening jousts commenced at sunset, you had urged your husband to join you on a walk in the meadows. No one else will venture there you had said, they are preoccupied with the tournament.

And your words rang true, the meadow was deserted. Insects flew freely, birds sung loudly, an orange glow cast across the entire scene. It was picturesque. Utterly beautiful. That’s where you led amongst the flowers of the field, your head resting in your husband’s lap as his fingers fell idly through your hair.

“You are going to get filthy led down there.” He uttered, fingers tangling several strands together in a pattern which slightly resembled that of a plait. “You worry too much about things that do not matter my dragon.” You reached up a hand, pressing your two central fingers against his lips as he parted them, welcoming their taste against his tongue before biting down lightly. A pout fell across your face as you yanked your hand back, little red crescents bled across your fingers from the rawness of his touch. Biting was a known affection of your husband. He did it playfully, he did it endearingly, he did it in bed, he did it when he thought you needed a reminder of to whom you belong. You had grown used to it being a silent form of I love you, this makes you mine.

In retaliation to his brute touch you kissed his palm tenderly, pressing his fingers flat against your cheek as your lips caressed his callous hands. “You do not always have to be so gentle.” He murmured, his unused hand resuming its place at the crown of your head, massaging gently. “I do not seek to hurt you, husband.” It was true, did his immature actions like killing a horse in a friendly tourney make you want to suffocate him with your pillow? Yes. Would you ever do such a thing? No. Because you maintained impulse control, something your husband feverishly lacked. “People talk of our marriage you know.” It felt like a confession from his lips, he desired to be feared but he hated the whispers that carried pity in your direction, that he would dare lay a hand to his own wife, he would sooner cut it off himself than do such a thing to you. He was rough when he knew it brought you pleasure only, never would he strike you down for merely existing, why would he have taken you to wed if your thoughts and feelings deserved to be silenced at his hand? But he knew what people thought, he was publicly careless in his actions, he hurt others without thinking twice. They pitied you publicly, his own family even contributed.

The Mad Prince’s Poor Wife

Brightflames caged dove

The living ghost of Summerhall

They truly believed you to be so unseen. Sure you were quieter than most, but your husband was devoted to your every need. They did not see his affection, they had not earned it. You had never had to, but to hear the whispers on the wind of their blatant pity was painful. You were not ignored, far from it. But in Summerhall there was few that made good company, you often found yourself wandering the halls late at night when sleep would not find you, resulting in the living ghost becoming an unwanted nickname - because the servants truly believed you were wandering due to the fact your husband was bedding whores in your shared bedchamber, another misconception, he just snores very fucking loud.

“I know of what they say.” You looked up to meet his eyes lightly, his contrasted your own heavily “but again, it does not concern me for they do not know me.” He scoffed, untangling his fingers from your hair “Yes but maybe it should, they speak as if I hate you, I bed whores in our shared bed, I make you suffer when I do bed you.”

“Maybe they think that because you make me scream.” You giggled, you caught the amusement flash across his face in a subtly proud smirk before he shook his head “That is absolutely beside the point. Do not be so vulgar, it is not befitting of a Lady.” He was teasing, abundantly so, he lowered his face until he was inches from your own, upside down from your perspective. The tip of his nose brushed against the bridge of your own, however in his distraction you placed several kisses to his taught jaw. His eyes fell shut with a hum, you tangled your hands in his hair, pulling his face as close as you could get it to your own, kissing his forehead to his cheek tenderly, before releasing him and turning onto your stomach, resting your arms in his lap. You were propped up that way, giving him better access to the entirety of your face. He seized the opportunity to entwine his hands with your hair full, locking them at the base of your scalp so that you were forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Look at this dress. Have you any idea the coin I spent on it?” He tutted, the once flush pink skirts were saddled with marks of dusty mud - it would undoubtedly brush off but he enjoyed the game of making a fuss. “Probably more than was necessary.” You smiled, meeting his lips in a devastating kiss as he groaned into your mouth.

“It is growing late, we should return to bed.” He pulled away ever so slightly but you chased his lips with your own, “I do not wish to depart yet! No need to stay in that dreary place when this is the view.” He groaned against your lips before he was silenced by your tongue fighting its way back into his mouth. You settled yourself into his lap now, allowing you a better reach to his face as he chuckled quietly at your desperation for closeness.

“Do not laugh at me.” You whined, his hands settled to your hips in an attempt to settle your dispute. “You are desperate.” He titled his head, a lazy smile planted onto his face, such a vast separation from the brute man that held his own on a tourney field. “I am allowed to be desperate you are my husband.”

“Yes well, if you would come with me to bed I would be able to satisfy your desires.” He raised an eyebrow, a kiss pressed to the side of your face. “I desire your company and your affection and I want it here in this field.” You demanded, maybe it did sound a bit desperate in hindsight but you didn’t have the care for it. He only laughed louder as you pouted at him, “you sound childish. Lose the attitude my flame it does not best suit you.”

“Childish! How dare you!”

“Oh how dare I? Gods I do forget myself.” His lips joined to your neck in a flurry of hurried kisses that only forced your laughter to join with his. “There, is my wife now satisfied?”

A hazy smile joined your face, you adored your husband more than anything because to you this was who he was. It brought you pain more often than not to know how those around you viewed your relationship. They did not see his affection, they saw your withdrawal from public affection. You did not hold hands, you did not kiss or even touch where others could see. Because it was not for them to have. What you shared was gentle and sacred and entirely your own.

A/N: shorter and entirely out of character for aerion i know, but i couldn’t resist. sometimes i forget im literally writing fanfiction and i can write whatever i want however i want so yes this is not who aerion is as a character but i had a lot of fun so i hope you all enjoyed.

as always: likes, comments, reblogs + any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone!!

DISCLAIMER: All themes, plot, images used in general and characters from A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms + elsewhere belong to the rightful owners, I hold no rights to the original media - but my writing belongs to me.

general akotsk taglist:

@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariel195 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide @serduncansdelight @seekingtherapyasap @moonlights-muse @icebearcucumber @poisonedsultana @nerdyinfluencertastemaker @qardasngan

aerion targaryen taglist:

@the-many-fandom-person @gasstationwishes @mindless-rock @rock-lol

@16lcs @kiskisser @licornie @celestrys @scaredgrimes01 @diannnnsss @ophidialantern @b-bef @ariescvnt @irrelevantout28 @kekeke27 @scwheeler @etfrin @beelzebzb @lilyyexe @hanmed

the rapid swell of his length isn’t making this any easier. every time you make progress trying to take him, he only grows even larger inside you.

“you’re the one who begged for this earlier. i want it, too. but you have to help me—i can’t do it on my own, caleb. you've always helped me, haven't you? always been there to look out for me. can’t you do it again?” 

swallowing thickly, he admires you through half-lidded eyes. when you push your lips into a pout, he nods slowly. giving in like he always does.

nerves alight, he wills his hips to drive three feeble thrusts into your heat. it’s a rare show of weakness from him, but even his lacking efforts make you slide farther down. 

of course, your mixed arousal dribbling down his length does most of the heavy lifting.

“more,” you urge. “more. we’re almost there.” 

“i can’t.” he’s almost delirious now. “so, so tight. feel like i can’t breathe.” 

“do it. you don’t want to disappoint me, do you? if you do, you might not get the chance to make it up to me.”

“no…no.” ardent as it is, his refusal is soft. he’s crashing quickly, devoting his waning energy to blinking the tears out of his eyes rather than projecting his voice. “never.” tensing for a moment, he gathers all his strength and rolls his hips, slow and deep, into your center. you accept him greedily, hissing through the dull sting until the rest of your weight falls on his throbbing length. once you’re fully seated, the scandalous slap of skin on skin echoes through the room. his desperate moans and a string of curses follow. 

finally, finally, you feel so incredibly whole. 

you moan, lewd and lascivious, and lean down to kiss the center of his chest. 

“was i good?” he asks, rapid pants fanning the crown of your head. “you feel so good. is this good?”

when you raise your head, he sits up on his elbows, eager to kiss your lips in grateful reciprocity.

it doesn’t take much to dodge him. grinning, you splay your hand across his now flushed chest and push him back down, earning a whiny, defeated groan. sinking impossibly deeper, you give his nose a conciliatory peck. 

“we’re at four,” you remind him, generous enough to keep count for him. you doubt he still can.

“h-how long do you plan on—mmh—going?” he drags his arm down just to watch your hand work him.

“till you shoot blanks," you hum, just as affected as him.

The way his length jumps at every touch to his mess-slick tip, cum already frothing thick lewdly at the base, the way his whimpers keep slipping loose—has you pulsing around nothing. zayne’s fingers find your folds, gathering the slick mix of your translucent arousal and his creamy spend as it dribbles down, pooling on the sheets.

his knuckles brush your clit. it makes you jolt and you swat his hand away. his cock jerks hard in your grip. Oh. is he into that?

“don’t distract me,” you murmur, lifting his hand to your mouth instead. You kiss his fingertips, slow.

His gaze goes glassy. you take two of his fingers in, sucking gently. The sound he makes is wrecked. downright sinful—something you've never heard before. his jaw clenches to hold back sounds. still, you bite the tip of his fingers.

and that's all it takes. he lets out a shuddered whimper as thick jets of cum spurt into your hand.

you give him a moment to breathe, to ride out his orgasm, before you straddle him. He opens his mouth to protest but it dies in his throat as soon as your juicy pussy lips rub over his hardening length.

"just one more and then we stop." you promise. seeing his state, he likely wouldn't be able to see the endeavor through. his cock stiffens once you slip it in you.

"your dedication to your work," a lazy smirk plays on his face, hands finding your hips as you begin to move on him. "Is very attractive."

"god—you're way too big," you savour the fullness that comes with being impaled on his perfectly chubby cock. zayne pulls you into a sloppy, messy kiss, his sticky spend stretching in obscene strings against your ass each time you bounce on him, wet plaps filling the room.

"push me—hah!—as far as you want." he murmurs into the kiss, before he lets out a small moan when you keep tightening at his words, gripping his poor, oversensitive dick like a vice.

your pace grows insistent. desperate. his swollen head drags along every ridge of your tight walls so wonderfully that your vision blurs. zayne's lips go lower, placing open mouthed kisses on your collarbone, the curve of your tits, eating up his drying cum.

how can you last long when he's like this? One brush to your clit and you’re breaking, sobbing as you clamp down and milk him for another orgasm. he groans, spilling again.

still, zayne manages to spread your folds apart, watching your hole twitch around him, until his cum creams hot around the stretched rim of you.

his fingers trace it, where your hole pulses around him in the last throes of your release.

"wanna take a picture?" You tease.

part 3 of the FOR SCIENCE series

"no. this sight—" his eyes never leave the place you're joined. "Is for my eyes alone."

“no,” you huff. “you’re always working. need you so bad, cho—you don’t need me?”

and choso whimpers, because of course he does, because what else is he supposed to do when you zip down his jeans & pull out his swollen, heavy cock? your eyes are glimmering & he’s so fucking hard and there’s already precum smeared over the flushed pink tip. you lick your lips. flash him a smile. “aw, cho. hard for me already?”

he stifles a gasp, cheeks hot. “so hard. mmfph—” you pump him slow & he swallows, hips stuttering against the board. “i’m sorry baby,” he cries, “always need you.”

“are you sure?” you coo, lashes fluttering as your thumb circles his slit. “sukuna will get mad again.”

choso’s lashes are sticky with tears. “he’s always mad—hah—i think.”

you giggle, leaning forward to lick a teasing stripe up his tip. "so you're saying this is fine ?"

choso wants to say yes. he wants to say no. he doesn't know what he wants anymore except your hand on his cock & your voice in his ear and—

BANG!

“hello. what the fuck is taking so long?!”

ryomen sukuna has his guitar slung over him & his lips bent in a frown. choso’s hands fly to his jeans, and you only smile sweetly as sukuna’s eyes dart frantically between your wet lips & choso’s panicked eyes. suguru pokes his head out of the booth; grin clumsy, eyes bright.

“…lock in.” sukuna mutters, and the door slams shut.

2. HEADLINE #2: R★CKSTAR CAUGHT DURING MIDNIGHT SEXCAPADES ?!

choso kamo is too needy for his own good.

it’s 1AM & choso kamo is under hotel sheets with need buzzing between his thighs. the band’s on tour for the nth time this year but choso isn’t thinking about practicing his guitar riff. his phone screen is too bright in his face & his eyes are on your soft thighs, supple breasts, pretty face—and he’s palming himself while staring at pictures of you before he can think any better of it.

but then his phone chimes.

[ BLOOD MOON 🎸]

mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(

choso blinks at the notification, pupils dilating. he clicks it so fast his thumb twitches.

BLOOD MOON 🎸

mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(

choso: I miss you too, baby. You’re not sleeping yet?

mine 😊🫀: hard to sleep without you touching me.

choso’s cheeks are hot. his cock twitches in his pants. but then his phone chimes again.

BLOOD MOON 🎸

sukuna: Can we not do this in the band gc.

geto🐒: why is she even here i’m dead

mine😊🫀: @ choso my pussy is so wet for you daddy :/

geto🐒 reacted: ⁉️

sukuna: IN MY PUBLIC GC ???

satoru🧿:

——

choso panics—throat bobbing, eyes wide. he quickly switches to texting you privately, face smushed into his pillow & cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

mine ☺️🫀

choso: Baby, why would you text that in the gc?

Satoru will tease me during practice again

And Sukuna already texted saying he’ll beat me up

——-

your text comes in instantly.

mine ☺️🫀: are you mad at me?

i just missed you cho. i won’t text you again since that’s what you want ☹️

choso: What? I said I didn’t want that? When?

I always want you to text me. It makes my day when you do. Please don’t stop texting baby I always want to hear from you.

mine ☺️🫀: let me see your cock

choso: Okay

I’m already hard for you. I was touching myself to your pictures before you texted. You’re so pretty, baby. Miss your pretty face.

[Image_Attachment]

mine ☺️🫀: aww, you’re so cute cho

why not come over and get the real thing ?

choso: I want to, but you’re two hours away. Can I see your breasts?

mine☺️🫀: you can see them if you come over 😚 and you can touch them too pretty boy <3

choso: But I can’t come over. What can I do?!

mine☺️🫀: Suffer

choso: ???

——-

choso stares at the screen, mouth agape, heart in a frenzy. the light is bright against his eyes but choso doesn’t care to dim it. what can he do? he really wants to see your breasts but the circumstances won’t allow it. he bites his lip, thumbs moving before his brain can catch up to them.

choso: Suffer

I’m already suffering, angel. I don’t know how to suffer any harder. Can you please tell me what to do?

mine ☺️🫀: go to sleep choso

choso: But I don’t want to sleep. I want to see your breasts

mine ☺️🫀: then come over

choso: But I can’t

mine ☺️🫀: so why are you still texting me?

choso stares at your text, breath hitching. he glances over at the clock on his nightstand, and the digital display gleams back. 1:17 AM. that’s not too bad. surely he could get there by around three, fuck you till at least four, and get back to the hotel by six.

it’s a stupid plan. but for you choso’s a stupider man, and the next text you send doesn’t help his judgement.

mine☺️🫀: [Image_Attachment]

mine☺️🫀: sneak peek <3

choso’s heart hammers. the picture only shows your tits clad in a pretty pink nightgown, but the material is too sheer & choso can see everything. the soft swell of your breasts. your nipples pebbled and peaking through the fabric. the way your arm is tucked underneath your tits to push them together into the camera. choso’s mouth dries. his breathing goes ragged & his cock goes heavy against his leg. he’s still gawking at your picture when his phone chimes again.

mine☺️🫀: my new nightgown’s so thin :( i don’t know why you can see my tits through it

choso thinks your nightgown is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

choso: your nipples are so pretty, baby

he sucks in a breath, taking one last sorry glance at the clock.

choso: I’m coming over.

choso doesn’t wait for a reply. he’s already scrambling to fit a tank top over his bare chest, tugging socks over his feet & shoving them into slippers. the hallway is dark and quiet, and choso takes one last look at your perky tits on his screen before clicking his phone off & shoving it into his pockets. he sucks in a breath. let’s do this.

two hallways right. one staircase down—not the elevator because it’s way too loud—and then another hallway to reach the lobby. choso knows the hotel layout like the back of his hand. he slips into the corridor, steps quiet against the hardwood, and the staircase is right there—

“late night, kamo?”

choso stops before he can bump right into sukuna.

ryomen sukuna is not impressed—and neither are the two boys behind him. geto’s piercings are glimmering in the heat. satoru has a smile too cruel to be kind. they stand on either side of a crossed sukuna, hands in their pockets, grins lazy-cruel.

choso gulps, eyes flitting between them. “uhm, i just needed some water—“

“back to your room, lover boy,” suguru whistles, thumb pointing to satoru. “unless you want to be smacked upside the head?”

satoru is cracking his knuckles with a grin.

“no thank you,” choso says too fast, too sheepish. his cheeks are peach tinged. “and what do you mean by lover boy? i was only—“

“save it,” sukuna growls, cocking his head. “the walls are thin as fuck, idiot. you think i didn’t hear you beating your shit and whining into your pillow in the next room over?”

choso’s throat bobs. sukuna pads closer to his shaky figure.

“back to your room,” sukuna’s hot breath tickles choso’s nose, “and don’t let me catch you in these halls again.”

3. HEADLINE #3 : R★CKSTAR CAUGHT HAVING SEX AFTER SETS ?!

on stage, choso kamo is half-boy, half-heartbreak.

at least, that’s what the fangirls say when he plays like this. mic cord in his mouth. hair soaked & sweat sticky. mascara smeared down his cheeks & a riff so loud it makes you feverish. on blood moon’s stage, choso kamo plays the electric guitar like his life depends on it. sukuna’s singing blares more like a roar. geto is on bass & satoru on the drums.

choso hasn’t seen you since the set started.

not in the crowd, or the lobby, or the soft space behind the old stairwell where he likes to kiss you dizzy. he’s trudging through backstage now, guitar strapped heavy on his back, steps slow & breath heaving because the adrenaline hasn’t worn off & he’s still half-high. where the fuck is his girlfriend?

but then he sees you on the amp.

and choso’s first thought is glitter. lots of it. sticky on your lip and your chin and your hair and your face. he pads towards you with bleary eyes and you welcome him with a teasing smile.

“hi, choso.”

“Hi,” his arms bracket your hips. “you look shiny.”

you giggle, hand curling into his necklace as he trails sloppy kisses to your jawline. choso kisses like a dog, tongue wet & breath sticky. “you’re so hot,” he rasps. “so fucking hot—mmh—m’dizzy.”

you let him kiss your lips. “can’t do this here,” he murmurs against them. “can i take you away, baby? behind the stairs?”

his eyes are soft and pleading. he talks like he’s asking but his hands are already hoisting you up & lifting you into his chest before you can tell him no. you cup his face. smush his cheeks. “impatient, are we?”

“sorry,” his cheeks are pressed together in your palms so his voice comes out strangled. “missed you.”

choso isn’t sorry. he’s stumbling past workers & crew alike while pressing sloppy kisses to your hot mouth. his tongue slobbers and drags while his hands press into your thighs, thumb climbing higher to graze circles on your hips. he nearly trips over two cables but you laugh into his mouth and choso kamo has never been happier. “you’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “so pretty.”

he finally reaches the stairwell. the closet door just under it is blue & peeling, and choso kicks it open with his mouth on your throat. he pulls back to stare at you and his gaze is soft. his eyes lift to stare into the room as you kiss his cheek.

his band members stare at him back.

ryomen sukuna has his arms crossed & his back against a wooden shelf. gojo satoru is sat criss-cross on a table with his lips in a grin. suguru stands beside him, leaned back lazily against said table with his lip piercing glimmering in the heat. and right there in the center, manager toji fushiguro has his arms folded over his chest, temu wristwatch catching the light.

choso drops you very slowly.

his eyes flit between his band mates, cheeks already blood drenched. he’s still gripping your skirt when he sets you down beside him. you whack his hand away and shift behind him to hide.

geto grins. “hey, lover boy.”

choso leans back into you slightly. he whispers over his shoulder, “baby—it’s a trap!”

he doesn’t need to tell you. you can fucking see that.

sukuna steps forward. he’s not even angry—shocking, honestly—he’s bored. steps lazy, gaze half-lidded. “told ya, fushiguro. our band’s lead guitarist is always in fucking heat.”

choso squeaks, gripping your skirt. “i wasn’t gonna fuck her!”

sukuna glances back at the others. “who is he lying to?”

toji sighs, shaking his head. he shoves his hands into his pockets, expression bored. “look, kid—“ he glances up, “your band mates and i don’t care about you being a horndog. we care that you’re letting it get in the way of your responsibilities.”

satoru perks up, tongue clicking. “you were supposed to head straight to the van after the set. but here you are trying to get some pussy…”

“shit’s jarring, man,” suguru finishes. “absolutely jarring.”

you lean up on your toes, just enough to poke your head up behind choso’s shoulder. satoru grins when he sees your face. suguru gives you a soft wave.

“hi,” your voice is shy. “this is my fault. sorry about him.”

“don’t sweat it, princess,” toji waves you off, fake ice glimmering on his wrist. “our business is with your boyfriend, not you.”

you nod shyly, disappearing behind choso yet again. sukuna huffs through his nose. “choso, got anything to say for yourself?”

choso looks around. at gojo and geto’s sleazy grins, toji’s deadpan face, sukuna’s lazy gaze. the room is hot but his cheeks are hotter. he swallows, blood sticky in his throat.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks. “it won’t happen again.”

sukuna doesn’t let him off. “what won’t happen again?”

choso grips your skirt behind him, swallowing. you squeeze your thighs around his palm to reassure him & choso gulps yet again.

“won’t fuck my girl while on duty. or let her jerk me off in the rec rooms. or try to sneak off to see her.”

your eyes widen behind him. he did not have to mention the rec room!

toji nods. then he checks his wrist—the temu wristwatch says it’s time to go. “alright, we’re done here. you boys be in the van in five. i got somewhere to be.”

he trudges past you and a frozen choso, kicking the door open to leave.

the boys follow suit. satoru hops off the table, grinning. “nice one, cho!” he smacks choso’s arm as he walks past. sukuna bumps choso’s side lazily. suguru slings an arm over your shoulders to steer you to the van with the rest of them.

in the closet, choso kamo has his feet frozen in place and his face contorted in horror.

once again, our rockstar’s been caught.

R★CKSTAR CAUGHT, end.