— summary: his young, pampered wife craves a babe of her own, and maekar finds himself powerless to deny her what she desires most.
— word count: 1k
— warnings: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), age gap, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, riding. hes such a girl dad😭
It was no secret in the Red Keep, nor in the damp halls of Summerhall, that Prince Maekar Targaryen was a man carved from harshness. The weight of his crown—not of a King, but of a perpetual second son—was nothing compared to the crushing burden of fatherhood. He looked upon his sons and saw only mirrors of his own failures: Daeron’s drunken escapades, Aerion’s burgeoning madness, and the quiet, distant gazes of the younger ones. They were a thicket of thorns he lacked the patience to prune.
He was too old, he told himself, too hardened by the anvil of life to learn the soft touch required to guide them.
But then there was you.
Young, the youngest wife he had ever taken. You were as sweet as summer honey, understanding and patient with his sons—who, in truth, were closer to your own age than your husband ever was. You were a creature of soft patience and maternal grace and utterly insatiable.
The making of another baby was a ghost of a topic. You never asked, and he never offered. Maekar believed the world had seen enough of his blood; he had no desire to unleash another troubled soul upon the Seven Kingdoms.
But he saw it in the way you looked at him—the silent, aching plea in your eyes when he made love to you. He knew you longed for a babe of your own, a creature to love and protect. His child.
Even in the heights of your very active passion, Maekar was a man of iron will. He had fought Blackfyres and survived a hundred melees, and he exercised that same grim discipline in your marriage bed. No matter how your beauiful body squirmed beneath his, no matter how desperately your cunt tightened around him—slick, supple, and pulsing with a life of its own—he somehow always found the strength to pull out.
He would ignore the way your walls clung to him, the way you tried to milk the very soul out of him, and he would spill his seed across your belly instead of within the warmth of your womb. At times it was upon your breasts, at others on your arse, or even over your face and mouth. But never, not once, would he let it fill your insides.
“You know I cannot, my love,” he would rasp, eaning down to press a remorseful, fleeting kiss to your brow.
You would only roll your eyes and pull him down for a proper kiss, tasting the salt of his skin.
It was not until one hushed night, with the moon hanging high and him newly returned from a grueling day of contending with his father, the King, that you finally made up your mind.
“It would be a beautiful babe, Maekar,” you insisted against the pulse of his throat, moving atop him with a slow, languid rhythm that had him groaning under you.
Maekar hissed, his big hands gripping your hips, urging you to quicken the pace.
“Of that I have no doubt, wife,” he growled, his voice breaking as you took him even deeper, your hot core squeezing him with agonizing perfection. “But beauty does not dictate the madness of the blood. My line is… f–fraught.”
“Do you not think I would be a good mother?” You stopped mid-stroke, sitting back upon his thighs, your pout visible even in the dim moonlight.
His brow furrowed and he reached up, his thumb grazing the swell of your arse. “I did not say that. You would be the finest mother the West has ever known. It is my own hand I fear. My guidance has ever been a blunt fucking instrument.”
His violet eyes drifted shut as you began to move on him again. Every tilt of your hips was a prayer, every wet slide of your body against his was a temptation that threatened to break his legendary resolve, the silent vow he had sworn to himself never to bring another of his heirs into this world.
You leaned down, nipping at his earlobe. “We shall learn together, my Prince.” You gripped his broad shoulders, your chest heaving, the slick friction of your union echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber. “I want to make you a father again, Maekar. To my child. My womb was made for you to take. Let me claim what is my right as your lady wife. Let me carry your seed, p–please”
The words acted like a spark in a dry hayloft. Something primal roared to life in the Prince’s chest. In one fluid, powerful motion, he flipped you beneath him, his weight a crushing, welcome heat all over you. He drove into you with a ferocity that stole the air from your lungs, burying himself so deep you felt the fat tip of his cock against your throat.
“Oh—Maekar—” you gasped, your voice a broken, sweet melody of surprise and delight.
He caught your leg, hoisting it high until your knee hooked firmly around his waist, his rough palm slapping your thigh in a silent command to follow with the other. You obeyed him with urgency, locking your limbs around his frame in a vice-like grip.
“A daughter,” Maekar pleaded, his hoarse voice cracking as the crest of his release loomed over him like a crashing wave. He trembled violently as he pinned you beneath the weight of his command, his hands gripping your legs and forcing them tight all around his hips, ensuring there was no escape for him, nor for you, this time.
“Give me a d–daughter,” he choked out, his eyes blown wide and glassy with a rare hope. “One who looks like you. Please.”
And he finally came, with a guttural, soul-shattering cry, filling you to the brim. His his seed pulsing and surging into the deep warmth of your womb in one heavy wave after another. Pouring into you the life and warmth you had craved so much.
Nine moons had turned and you had given him what he asked for.
Maekar held your daughter very carefully, gazing down at her with eyes that had grown soft and full of adoration. One of his fingers was caught in her tiny hand, her grip firm even as she drifted in a placid sleep.
You watched them with a fond, tired smile, resting your chin upon his shoulder as he sat perched on the edge of your bed.
You pressed an appreciative kiss to his cheek.
“My little dragon,” he cooed into the crown of the babe's head, his lips lingering there. “My sweet, summer girl.”
Being the OCD person I am, I organized all the tips by store & various topics. I made this as a page yesterday, but the links wouldn’t work, so here’s a post.
As stated before, this is a role-play blog, & if you attempt any of these, you are doing so at your own risk. Shoplifting is illegal, especially if you’re over 18 (in the US. not sure about other countries) Thanks for playing along! :)
All links open in a new window.
Cautionary Tales
I got caught in zara (someone else’s story)
Stuff that will get you caught up
Half Price Book Scare
Security Tag Removal Guide
Tips/Tricks Megapost
Tips/Tricks Masterpost (do NOT do #53 however)
Cellphone trick
Up your sleeves technique
Various store tag/LP/dressing room/methods info (US store at the top. UK stores below them. Followed by methods.)
The FIA Prize Giving 2018 gala was an insane night for Simi, and I want to share all of it!
First, the elephant in the room:
Kimi was absolutely hammered! He caught everyone's eye because he was tumbling around the place, and generally having a blast yapping his mouth off to anyone who would listen to him. Legends said he would do this when drunk, but never had a live audience been witness to it.
Meanwhile, Seb...
Seb had finished second to Lewis in 2018's title battle, and was also seeing the end of his partnership with Kimi at Ferrari.
Kimi's renewal for Ferrari was always rumored to be something Seb pushed for when negotiating his own contracts, so the news the Scuderia wasn't interested in keeping Kimi past 2018 were a sign that Sebastian's wants weren't of huge importance to them anymore, and they were making way for a promising young talent (Leclerc) to take the lead driver role in Ferrari in the years to come.
Sounds like a bad end of the year for a guy with title aspirations, but guess what?
Kimi was there, with so much booze in his system that he wasn't at all worried with maintaining his quiet and taciturn act. And you know how they say alcohol lowers your inhibitions and makes your deepest thoughts come out freely?
That night, Kimi had one mission, and it was to keep Seb happy.
When he caught cameras filming Seb, knowing his friend was a private guy, he jumped in and tried to stop them. Look at his face. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's driven only by protective instinct.
When Seb talked, you could tell he wasn't hearing a word (and at times it seemed mutual)
For a bit there, the cameras even caught Kimi deciding to go for a smoke, and Seb trying to impinge a sense of responsibility on him, only to end up being dragged along.
When they were called on stage to receive the 2nd and 3rd place trophies, it was the funniest shit. There were designated spots on the stage where each driver should stand, but they were quite apart from each other.
You can see an official trying to stop Kimi and take him to his marked spot, but Kimi strode straight towards Seb and stuck decisively by his side. In fact he gestures at Seb, as if telling the crowd to give him his accolades!
His arm was around his shoulders, half offering companionship in what would be their last official act together as teammates, and half supporting himself so he wouldn't fall on his ass on stage.
And of course, we even had a classic Seb moment, where Kimi offered one of the men delivering the awards a handshake, and Seb took it instead. Kimi didn't even care, he rolled with it, because if Seb wants to hold his hand, god damn it he will.
Even when they had to part to grab the awards, Kimi made sure to return to his original favored position of keeping one friendly arm around Sebastian's shoulders asap.
You see Seb turn to him and say something...
It's impossible to tell what, but it looked an awful lot like a "thank you" that carried years of friendship and support behind it. Kimi's eyes transformed at whatever Seb said. his eyebrows lifted and his expression softened.
He told him something to his ear in return, and it made Seb smile again, whatever it was.
Eventually it was Lewis' time to get on stage. He was the 2018 champion, the guy Seb didn't manage to beat, and as such had the right to make a victory speech.
As he does so, the camera caught the losers, Seb and Kimi.
In that moment, that could have hurt a little harder than usual, Kimi put his arm around Seb's shoulders one more time, downed another drink, and swung him closer.
The FIA Prize Giving 2018 gala was an insane night for Simi, and I want to share all of it!
First, the elephant in the room:
Kimi was absolutely hammered! He caught everyone's eye because he was tumbling around the place, and generally having a blast yapping his mouth off to anyone who would listen to him. Legends said he would do this when drunk, but never had a live audience been witness to it.
Meanwhile, Seb...
Seb had finished second to Lewis in 2018's title battle, and was also seeing the end of his partnership with Kimi at Ferrari.
Kimi's renewal for Ferrari was always rumored to be something Seb pushed for when negotiating his own contracts, so the news the Scuderia wasn't interested in keeping Kimi past 2018 were a sign that Sebastian's wants weren't of huge importance to them anymore, and they were making way for a promising young talent (Leclerc) to take the lead driver role in Ferrari in the years to come.
Sounds like a bad end of the year for a guy with title aspirations, but guess what?
Kimi was there, with so much booze in his system that he wasn't at all worried with maintaining his quiet and taciturn act. And you know how they say alcohol lowers your inhibitions and makes your deepest thoughts come out freely?
That night, Kimi had one mission, and it was to keep Seb happy.
When he caught cameras filming Seb, knowing his friend was a private guy, he jumped in and tried to stop them. Look at his face. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's driven only by protective instinct.
When Seb talked, you could tell he wasn't hearing a word (and at times it seemed mutual)
For a bit there, the cameras even caught Kimi deciding to go for a smoke, and Seb trying to impinge a sense of responsibility on him, only to end up being dragged along.
When they were called on stage to receive the 2nd and 3rd place trophies, it was the funniest shit. There were designated spots on the stage where each driver should stand, but they were quite apart from each other.
You can see an official trying to stop Kimi and take him to his marked spot, but Kimi strode straight towards Seb and stuck decisively by his side. In fact he gestures at Seb, as if telling the crowd to give him his accolades!
His arm was around his shoulders, half offering companionship in what would be their last official act together as teammates, and half supporting himself so he wouldn't fall on his ass on stage.
And of course, we even had a classic Seb moment, where Kimi offered one of the men delivering the awards a handshake, and Seb took it instead. Kimi didn't even care, he rolled with it, because if Seb wants to hold his hand, god damn it he will.
Even when they had to part to grab the awards, Kimi made sure to return to his original favored position of keeping one friendly arm around Sebastian's shoulders asap.
You see Seb turn to him and say something...
It's impossible to tell what, but it looked an awful lot like a "thank you" that carried years of friendship and support behind it. Kimi's eyes transformed at whatever Seb said. his eyebrows lifted and his expression softened.
He told him something to his ear in return, and it made Seb smile again, whatever it was.
Eventually it was Lewis' time to get on stage. He was the 2018 champion, the guy Seb didn't manage to beat, and as such had the right to make a victory speech.
As he does so, the camera caught the losers, Seb and Kimi.
In that moment, that could have hurt a little harder than usual, Kimi put his arm around Seb's shoulders one more time, downed another drink, and swung him closer.
Howl truly is the man of all time. He’s a playboy. He’s a malewife. He fell in love with a ninety year old woman. He’s a rugby player. He smells like hyacinths. He’s not a natural blond. When dying his hair went slightly wrong, he filled his home with slime. He has a PhD. He’s a wizard. He found a way to another universe and he told absolutely nobody about it. He makes video games about the magical universe for his nephews. He can’t play the guitar. He always takes a guitar with him when he’s trying to seduce a woman. He’s a self-proclaimed coward. He got drunk to trick himself into doing something dangerous. He overcharges for his services to rich people. He undercharges for his services to poor people. A woman invaded his home and declared herself his cleaning lady and he just let her stay. He loves spiders. He lies about his surname to everyone, including royalty. The true spelling of his first name is Howell, but we don’t find out until halfway through the book because the POV character thinks it’s spelled Howl. He’s even Welsh.
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
baratheonpilled
origamiaround
snowghoul
vaporwave
pixelskylines
dededos
titsay
