andromedasp



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    Aerion had bolted upright in his bed, a gasp tearing from his throat. His body burned, a deep, insistent ache blooming in his core. "What in the seven hells...?" he muttered, clutching his abdomen. He felt it then, the phantom stretch of something massive invading his cunt, stretching his walls wide. 

    ----

    as promised the pocket pussy au

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    10 Aug 2026

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    His fingers touch something weird, something round and silicony feeling. Right. Duncan frowns, pulling it out slowly.

    "What the fuck," He shrieks, surprised.

    Raymun pauses the game instantly, of course he does, and turns around on the couch just to see Duncan holding the biggest dildo their eyes have ever seen. Not that Duncan’s seen many dildos in his life, but still. The thing is massive. Bright, almost violently red, covered in weird swirly textures, and Christ, it’s nearly the size of the box itself, which is nearly the size of Duncan's forearm, and Duncan is a big lad. It has to be pushing at least thirty centimetres, if not more.

    or: Duncan receives a dragon dildo by mistake, finds out that Aerion Targaryen runs a youtube channel where he posts dragon dildo reviews, and becomes a bit obsessed.

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    10 Aug 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Duncan the Tall had been pardoned in the eyes of Gods and men. He had expected to return back to the roads, to leave the violet eyes of Targaryens behind, and to live the rest of his ignoble life in search of coin and service.

    Instead, a bloodied and beaten Aerion Targaryen stood in his way and refused to be moved.

    “Marry me,” he said, and Duncan could see that the pearly whites of his teeth had turned red. “Marry me, Ser Duncan, or risk insulting a dragon twice.”

    Duncan had turned pale with shock then red with rage. It hadn’t mattered in the end because one did not insult a dragon twice.

    “If it pleases you, my Prince,” Duncan had said smiling. It was hardly pleasant.

    I’m going to make you wish you were dead.

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    09 Aug 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 85

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    09 Aug 2026

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    The Lord Stark looked down upon him clad in a heavy fur cape ladened with silver chains. His eyes resembled the blues of a crystalline lake– cold as the North. Even more so gazing at the flame that was Aerion. Burning hotter and hotter still as he stood firm against the eyes that seemed to swallow him whole.

    They had met once.

    Only once.

    When their youth still showed on their cheeks, and the years had treated them kinder than any war ever could. When the summer sun threatened to melt the young northerner, and when pale locks seemingly glowed iridescent when waves of golden light shone through leaves.

    When Aerion Targaryen, the Brightflame, was promised to Duncan Stark of Winterfell.

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    09 Aug 2026