Don't assume my posts have any brain behind them, nor grammar. Only typos and plant 21, She/They My blog has a lot of adult content so do mind your step if you are not comfortable with that.
i am not a psychiatrist but i do find it really weird how autism checklists are so often focused on "outward" signs of autism rather than what is going on internally. i don't know how to explain it but "do you make eye contact with other people" feels like a much less relevant question than "how does it feel when you have to make eye contact with other people?"
while i'm here, the other one that always pisses me off is "do you interpret idioms literally, for example 'bull in a china shop'?"
well, no, obviously. i know what "bull in a china shop" means because that is a popular phrase with a clearly defined meaning. and if i hadn't heard it before, then i would still not interpret it literally, because it has the cadence of an idiom and i would probably be able to work out from context what it meant. what is the point of this question
third and final complaint: "are you good at noticing subtext?"
i feel like the problem with this question is best illustrated by a conversation i had with a friend a while back, where i said something like, "i feel very safe with you because you don't do subtle hints and you are always very straight-up with me about what you are thinking and feeling."
and he laid a hand on my shoulder and was like, look dude i'm gonna be straight up here. i am subtle with you constantly and you simply do not notice <3
summary: you have long wondered with your husband’s nature, just how he came to father six children. and its high time he proved it to you.
pairing: maekar targaryen x second wife!reader
warning(s): porn with little plot, rough sex, breeding kink (it’s maekar), fingering, hair pulling, biting, dirty talk, slight degradation, slight bit of spanking
word count: 3.6k
a/n: will i ever stop writing maekar with breeding kink? uhhh.. no :)) i hope you enjoy lovelies
If there was one thing more than anything else he’d been forced to endure, it was you.
Not that, but the things that had come with it, the questions and nonsense from others. And some, even worse, from you.
“For the way he acts it is a wonder.”
“Mayhaps he is just nervous.”
“Id wager he’d enjoy the idea of it.”
“But how exactly did you?” That one, was you.
Endless questioning. That was all he had heard, and it was just about enough to drive him crazy, past the point of insanity if possible.
You were no fool, he knew of it. He would not have stepped foot into another marriage let alone being forced to take a bride, if she was dimwitted. And you were far from it.
Callous, stern and prickly many called him, and yet you and what followed had wandered round him like a buzzing fly. Though it was not your company he despised, he liked that more than he could admit, but it was the mockery. For a man of his age, not old and yet not young with six children in his stead, you had been incessant in wondering exactly.
How.
He was handsome, far more than people had mentioned or cared to, striking in that fierce way. Hardened by battles and fatherhood alone. And you were captivated, and curious. And luckily for you, you were the thing, the creature, the pest that consistently managed to get under his skin.
The way you walked, talked, the way you made eyes at him across the feasting table, the way you’d so perfectly slotted into the family and how everyone, including the children adored you. For that he was thankful, truly, but it didn’t stop the fact you drove him mad.
“She is a new addition to the family, and she is fitting in quite well I should say.” Baelor countered as both men walked through the punctured halls of Maegor’s Holdfast.
“She has taken over.” Maekar muttered with a roll of his yes , stalking slowly beside his brother.
“Your senses perhaps.” Baelor replied coolly, an edge of amusement following.
Maekar slowed, squinting piercing eyes at his brother as they moved to stand over the edge, overseeing the court below where you and the children had played. Egg and Rhae had tugged at your hands, making you stand to play and duck behind the plant pots with them in small strides, with Daeron watching on. Even Valarr stood at the corner with a smile, whispering no doubt pleasantries and flattery about you. Some said you would have been more suited to one of the younger Prince’s, perhaps there would be more in common, a likeness, but even though he remained shadowed, the idea made his blood boil. A possessiveness over territory he had yet to claim.
Not a chance.
“What I mean is, she does no harm. It has been a long time since they have all looked like this.” Baelor reasoned, picking at the stone underneath his palm as he eyed Maekar.
“Around you she may not.” The grumble came fast, quick to override his brother’s words. But his throat felt dry, tacky and stuck like the words could barely come out. Like what he had heard was true.
His senses, overtaken his senses. How?
What with your cunning ways, your ability to charm and please, and weasel your way in without needing to, to be so beautiful and too good for him. It needled at him. The marriage both of you had been so blessed with was not necessity, not by anyone’s means, but yet it came anyway.
Swift and secure, as all things should be, strengthening alliance or something else they had bothered to give title.
The loss changed him, hardened him in ways that most wouldn’t be able to understand, but you had tried to. Endlessly. Attempts to break down the brick wall that was your husband became futile, and so you decided to go around him. For it was jsut as new to you as it was to him, and with him years your senior, you had expected him more forthcoming.
And yet he was not.
He was reserved and callous, moving through the halls of Summerhall like a gust of wind more than a steady hand, ignoring all of your questions insisting they were nothing but “nonsensical whims.”
But you had longed for something different. Perhaps not the chivalrous fanciful lords and their ways, but his own.. the longing looks he had given you across court, the fleeting touches at your lower back and arm when duty had warranted it. But you wanted more, you wanted him, not duty. And he had been rather intent on keeping it from you.
But one thing he didn’t deny, was that his brother may well have been right. None of them had looked like it in such a long time, nor had he felt the way he had in so long. So.. undone, having to pry himself from his thoughts, especially when you caught his gaze from across the din.
Your smile bright and curved, more like a smirk, knowing and tempting. His jaw ticked harshly, tongue pressing deep into his cheek, only for a fleeting moment before you had looked away, and his fingers had all but gripped the stone under his fingers enough to chip it.
Baelor had caught it, a single glimpse to his side and back onto you and the children again. The heat that burned from the man beside him was enough to scold and he had not lingered on the thought of what had wandered through his head.
Nor did he need to, because before pulling away, Maekar’s eyes barely left you.
His thoughts were, you.
——
The chamber was cool, years of aged stone encasing you more than you’d have liked. The day had .. wonderfully, breaking your fast with your ladies and the children, tending to them in the gardens and watching over some of their lessons, and retreating back to your ladies once more. For them you were thankful, able to wander the lower halls without question or prying eyes, and the ability to talk as freely as you wished.
“If only he wasn’t so prickly.”
“Careful, he is our Prince after all.”
“It is a miracle he has fathered children of his own at all, not near as pleasant as his brother.” Quickly followed by, “Apologies my lady, we only wish to see you happy..”
You had confided in them briefly, private chatter between you of how exactly to woo the prince, or rather atleast to accept his affections that so many had claimed to have seen. Also that so many had claimed the Prince did not have a heart to give.
But they were wrong.
Not with the way he looked you, so dark and delicate, like he could snap at any moment..
You must have made him feel green again, one had giggled, as you did.
You had asked him to visit your chambers many nights, and yet he did not, instead your maid came to you, always. She bathed you often, brought tea and a fresh pitcher of water, even sat with you a while when you had wanted it. Almost as if it had been sent for you, and for that you were thankful. But there was no sign of him.
And alas, you had had enough.
They were not wrong, you had noticed it too. Such fighting for restraint and the tension that lingered was inevitable, a livin thing that made you ache.
And so you had taken their advice.
If he will not make such a move, perhaps you should.
And you liked that idea, you liked it very much. Because out of all the talk and gossip, the questioning of your husband’s want for you was dwindling, and yet you did not give in.
Your chambermaid, Niamh, had just finished setting out the tray in the small table, a glass bowl of fruits beside a candle, a hand towel and your bodily oils. She stood straight backed and patient for what her ached body would allow, resting her arms at her middle with a small, expectant smile.
“I have run you a bath, should you require assistance, my lady?”
“That will be all thank you Niamh, you are dismissed.”
She nodded curtly, and with the turn of her heel the oak creaked behind her softly. You had waited a further few moments to let the echoes of her footsteps die out before you moved, stepping into the thinness of your laced nightgown with a devilish grin.
Because it was not the bath you were ready for.
Your steps patterned the lines of the corridors you’d mapped out for some time, every corner and shortcut that was hidden beneath stone. Maekar’s own chambers was not far from your own, a whole stretch of hall and a turn away. Every outline of jagged rock shadowed with a trail of sconces and the few tapered and coloured tapestries that hung from the walls.
Your heart thrummed harshly in your chest with adrenaline, your fingertips flexing as you clutched your arms around yourself from the cold night air. And once you arrived outside of his chambers, the feeling only seemed to grow, goose pimples trailing your skin. But with a single look, defiant and what confidence you could muster up, the two men standing vigil outside had stepped aside without protest for you.
Seemingly aware of the mission you had embarked yourself on.
The chambers were darker than your own, everything lined perfectly and sparse just as you had remembered it from your night together moons ago. The last time he had truly touched you. You stepped inside carefully, snaking yourself around the door before closing it shut with a heavy click.
The hearth warmed the room, dimming it in golds and oranges across banners of red and black. Your breath stuttered as you turned, so taken with breathing the space in you hadn’t known the figure staring right at you. And a look of confusion etching the striking, miserable features.
His robe was a dark and velveted crimson, one that wrapped to his shins and broadened his shoulders. His eyes glistened in that light, twinkling more tender than they had let on, almost enticing.
“Husband.” You greeted innocently.
“Who let you in?” Maekar spoke sharply, like the words were a bad taste on his tongue.
“Your kingsguard, very thoughtful of them.” You gestured behind you at the door as you moved further into the room, closing the gap between you as much as you could dare.
“You should be asleep,” His eyes raked over you for a single moment, rather all he could allow himself before he turned to his side, back facing you as he made for the bed, “in your own chambers.”
Your nightdress was of the finest silk, cream and a lightness that hugged your curves in the most torturous way, your hair clung to your shoulders and your skin bared.
Something he should not have seen, should not have wanted as much as he did.
“I have come to see you.”
You dared a foot forwards, planting it across the cool floor and onto the myriah carpet just at the end of the bed, a small smile peeking at your features. He had rested himself onto the edge of the bed, sitting hunched as his legs trailed far and long in front of him, shoulders sagged and tense.
“Well now you have seen. Now leave.”
But you did not, you couldn’t. He was far too close, and you had not yet begun.
You didn’t answer to that, instead you had crawled toward him on the edge of the bed, a mere arms length away.
“I have missed you.”
He only looked at you as he took a heavy inhale, a simple look, displeased and thrown. Why. You blinked up to the violets that bore into yours, a face like statue and stone. How could you. After all that was placed on you both, all the gossip and venomous words that spilled behinds backs, after how much he had attempted to keep from ruining you.
“What are you saying?”
“Well you hardly spend any time here.. with me.” You kicked your legs in front, swinging just beside his, close enough to knock together where yours didn’t meet the length of his own.
“Do not pretend to be so stupid.”
“It scares you.” You inched closely, carefully, arms reaching toward him, through the robe. And he allowed you to, legs spread wide and shamelessly as you settled yourself over him, a knee perched on either side.
“What?” He blinked up through lidded eyes, pupils blown and decisive, even if he would not speak as such. He would let you have your fun, amuse yourself and find out what you had so longed to have.
“The thought scares you.” You continued, fingers running along the collar of his robe, lining the silk just across the hem where his skin was bared. Few silver hairs littered his chest where the material opened, hard planes of pale muscle rising and falling sharply.
“What thought woman? Speak.” Maekar snapped through the quiet, impatience clawing at his skin like a fire.
“Surrendering yourself.”
He almost laughed, almost, a short incredulous huff bubbling from his throat.
“It is not my duty to surrender.”
“But it is your duty to put a babe in me is it not, the marriage was consummated moons ago and you had done so little as touch me.” Your fingers worked at his shoulders, taut muscle pulling between your nails. He stayed rigid, batting your hand away with a flick.
But you moved it back, placing it right back to where you had it.
“Do not test me.”
You could feel him there. The warmth of his breath, the burning glare that did not leave your face, the heat brushing between you through thin layers of fabric. Arousal flooded your core, and you had half the mind to bite back a moan. You had not had him like this, and he was not denying you.
“I’am not testing you.” You shrugged, hands slowly circling to meet around his neck. A brave move, even if not wise. He swore he could hear the hammering of your heart, and still see the curve of the smirk he had not from forgotten hours earlier, the one that plagued his mind.
The one he wished to wipe off of your face and take you over his lap in an instant—
“Perhaps it is more than duty you require..” Your fingers continued at his collarbones, humming dreamily at the thought. “Perhaps it is want.”
Your eyes met, bearing down into one another as your breaths mingled, your faces somehow rocked closer together on instinct, where your lips neared touching.
“Though if you do not wish for more, nor to consummate this marriage.. I wouldn’t be offended. Perhaps you are scared.. and after having so many it would be more than enough for an old man to—“
That was enough. The pure breaking point he’d sure he’d lost a long time ago. All resolve had seemed to snap with a heavy punch in his gut.
You didn’t have time to contemplate another word before he had shifted you both roughly. Long, thick fingers circled around your throat, your back shoved down into layers upon layers of silken sheets and furs. The tassels of his robe had fallen in his swiftness, bearing his chest completely leaving him only in his breeches and you had completely lost your breath.
You were pinned, folded with your legs pressed into his thighs as he kneeled over you.
“Do not anger me, girl.”
You blinked up at him, gasping at the pressure against your throat. You could smell him from there, more than before. And he was intoxicating. His scent, the smell of woodsmoke and pine, and need.
“You know well that is not it.” He gritted, glaring down at you with a gaze that made the pressure in your belly pinch hot.
“Then what is it.. mayhaps that you are older—“
The fingers tightened at your throat as he leaned down, body rising over yours as more weight anchored you down.
“Seven hells no. Tell me what you want. Say it, tell me you want this as I do, before I change my fucking mind.” The hand at your waist clamped tighter, stretching the seams of your nightgown. Your skin was ablaze, ignited under his touch and the aching deep in your core.
There was much you could have said, even struck him for making you wait so long, for denying himself of you for reasons he couldn’t even begin to name, but you had forgotten all else, raw need buzzing through your skin.
“Want you to put a babe in me husband.. want you to show me how well you fuck.”
You breathed out with a whine. And he growled, deep and beastly, like a primal instinct that could not be tamed. So guttural it sounded almost dragonlike.
His grip curled around the back of your neck, shoving you up to face him with bared teeth as he pressed himself further down, nose nudging harshly into yours.
“Good girl.”
His lips crashed to yours, fierce and unyielding, the force shoving you both back onto the bed as he bent over you. Your tongues swept together before his pushed his between your lips, tasting you, savouring and claiming all at once.
“You have driven me mad, wife.” With one hand he reached between you, unlacing the confines of his breeches in one heavy tug. They fell away down to his knees, the sharp ‘v’ of muscle trailing down to his cock defined and pulsing with vein. Even through lidded and lusted eyes you could see him, all of him. He was thick as he was long, the tip reddened with an aching blush and the beading sticky stream of precum.
Maekar waited a moment, slowing as he rose, releasing his grip on your neck, tracing his fingers over the bunched hem of your nightgown. He pushed it up, inch by inch until he brought it to your chest.
“Off.” Was all he called gruffly, and the command made you dizzy, raising your arms shakily as he snaked it off of you before tossing it somewhere to the floor where neither of you had cared to look for it.
He had longed for this sight. You had lingered long in his memory since the first time, the swell of your breasts and nipples pebbling under the cool air, the dip of your waist and curve of your stomach. The flush of your face under the firelight flickering behind you, silhouetted only by his shadow above you. Gods you did drive him mad.
And he was a fool to wait so long, to make you wait.
Hands brushed down your sides, callouses scratching along your skin as you shivered under his touch, fingers splaying over your belly and parting your thighs.
“All of this teasing.. and talk with your ladies who do not know fuck all.”
His fingers dug into the flesh of them, ignoring the way you inched downward to him, the hard press of his length just above your aching cunt.
“She must be so needy for me for being desperate like some common whore...” He tutted sharply, running a finger from your navel to your heat, slipping through the wetness that gathered over your clit and entrance. Flush crept your cheeks brazenly, hips arching instinctly as he curled two inside of you.
You moaned loudly, digits filling you at once as your cunt sucked them in greedily, rocking back onto them as he flexed them. He worked you open like that, scissoring as you bucked and humped yourself back onto his hand restlessly. And again he let you, urging you on, pumping his fingers deep while his thumb circled at your clit, letting your sticky sweetness coat his hand.
The sounds were lewd, a squelch against his palm where it filled you, motioning and massaging at your g-spot over and over until you had broke a sweat across the sheets, working yourself up with a desire that needed to be sated.
He didn’t let you finish, couldn’t, not even the satisfaction of having you come undone on him was enough. He had to have you, and there was only way it was going to happen, with having you wrapped around his cock and buried deep inside of you.
“Why the fuck did you—“ Your words caught on your tongue, dying as he angled himself, heavy length rubbing through your folds with a sickening tease. He slipped himself inside, thickness filling you with a burning stretch as you took him. His mouth moved back over yours, catching your whines and enduring the way your nails clutched at his back with a groan.
He stilled only to feel all of you, sheathed so far inside you swore you could feel him in the your belly. His cock punched deep, fingers gripped in a swarm around your hips to only anchor himself further, tongue sweeping over yours in a feverish haze. You could hardly breathe, the air punched from your lungs as he thrust inside of you, pulling out gently just to shove himself back deeper, and purposefully until stars blurred your vision.
Your thighs curled at his hips, muscle tensing and straining where he fucked into you like a man possessed, grunts muffled into the curve of your jaw as you begged and whined for him, wrapping yourself tight at his middle as he huddled himself over you. The hard bone of his knees braced at the bottom of your thighs, stretching you further for him to get more of you, your body on full display and all for him.
You tried to speak, to rise over the lack of words as your mouth parted, but it failed you, he was merciless.
“Take. It.” He rasped, rising over you to tug your legs upward, resting them onto his chest and up to his shoulders. Your husband was undone, completely. Silver flattened hair had fallen into his eyes, pale skin flushing with a sheen of sweat and desire, his eyes burning as he took you in. As if to study you so deeply and commit you to memory, finally having you in his arms, unable to spout those stupid questions and irk him further.
But it did not last long, not until he had you flipped again, this time with your face pressed into the furs, a heavy palm smoothed over your back.
“You want to know how hm?” His breath hit the shell of your ear, cock sliding over your arsecheek.
Your blood ran cold, a shiver wracking your body as fingers twisted into your hair, forcing you up along with his hips. He had you bent beneath him, his hips dragging into your arse as he lined himself up once more. You were arched up into him, breasts bunched into the mattress and your cries muffled into the sheets.
The angle there hit deeper, fuller, settling that spot inside of you with every snap of his thrusts. The sound of slapping filled your ears, punctuated only by his grunting and your moans. He tugged you back onto him where you fell completely boneless, his cock spreading you open as your arms spread wide, clutching and fisting at the pillows as you moaned into the mattress.
“This is what you wanted is it, to fuck you full..” A hand cracked down onto your arscheek and you mewled, arching your back to meet the stinging pressure. He fucked into you still, sinking in and out so deeply it was certain to kiss your cervix.
“Perhaps this will shut you up.. spilling inside of this cunt.”
Your whines became babbles, a plea of “yes yes yes” falling from your lips needily, and he gave you it, everything you desired, begged for, everything you deserved. His head fell, a hand moving over the trail of your spine, cinching at your waist to bring you closer.
You couldn’t take it.
The pair of your fell apart together, every slap of skin and pant sending you over the edge. His teeth bit into your shoulder from behind, tongue smoothing over the marks that punctured your skin.
“Please..” You whined, your walls spasming wildly around him as your climax crashed over you.
“Let go for me, my girl..” He groaned through gritted teeth, grabbing a harsh fistful of your arse as you clenched around him, your swollen cunt milking him dry as he chased his own high. He gave few more thrusts before spilling inside of you, fucking it back into you as you shook round him, legs limp beneath him.
He did not let go of you right away, pulling from you carefully, your wetness and his spend leaking from you as he rested your hips back onto the bed. A pillow was placed under your middle as he lifted you without fuss, tilting you ever so slightly downward. So it will keep. Your heart eased its hammering as your body began to rest, heavy warm arms tugging you upward and onto his chest.
The sheets were pulled over you carefully in silence, only his ragged breaths and the crackling of the hearth filling the heavy silence in the room.
“Rest.”
A hand combed through your hair, smoothing over your face as you looked up at him, and this time he found yours, and really looked. Your arm wrapped over his as his hooked under your legs, sweeping you closer, together wrapped in your warmth.
He felt you looking, and he waited, expecting another quip as per usual.
“Are you done with the nonsense now?” He mumbled, resting his head back onto the wooden headboard.
“Mhm.. maybe.” You hummed, tracing the silver hairs at his chest.
“For fucks sake..”
“I believe you’ll have to do it again.”
There it was.
The mouth that drove him mad. His arm tightened around you, but he said nothing.
Though he didn’t need to, his exhales grew harsher, his spend still dripping from you as you rubbed your thighs together, and over the hardening of his cock.
Not as duty, not as requirement, but as your husband, and the pure unrestrained need for wanting you, and how he wasn’t to deny it again.
loving taglist: @targlocket (let me know if you want to be tagged for future reference, i’m accumulating a proper taglist) 💗
thank you to the lovely anon who sent in a bunch of their reqs into my inbox, i’m so grateful you decided to pass your smutty torch onto me🥹
moans bounced off the walls as daeron thrusted into you, his moves languid yet sharp, jabbing gasps forming on your lips. your legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling both of your pelvises closer together. each movement was euphoric, and you couldn’t help but to tangle your hands in daeron’s hair, giving a sharp tug.
it was like a flick of a switch, the world flipping on its axis. daeron’s spine curled like a cat, his movements halting as your fingers embedded themselves into his hair. a sharp mewl left his lips, leaving your eyebrows to draw together. daeron’s sharp thrusts turned into jerky spurts, your lips parting in a gasp as his movements quickly turned into sporadic bursts.
“baby?” you gasp out, nails scratching daeron’s scalp, leaving him a whimpering and moaning mess. “baby, what’s wrong?”
no response passes daeron’s lips, his face twisted in pure pleasure as your fingers continue to card through his hair. it’s then you feel the warmth of his seed seep inside of you, his body jerking at the aftershocks of his orgasm.
a gasp leaves your lips, sharp and hot, rendering you speechless as daeron continues to sporadically rut his hips into yours. “i’m sorry. so fucking sorry.” daeron mumbles, his seed starting to drip down your thighs. “your hands— my hair, i just couldn’t help myself.”
daeron’s words suddenly has it all clicking in your head; your hands tugging at his hair — his reaction. turns out your solemn and quiet boyfriend likes his hair pulled, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips from the realization.
“aww, baby.” you coo, pulling harder at his hair, daeron moaning louder with each pull. “you like it when i play with your hair?”
you feel daeron’s cock twitch inside of you, his eyes screwed shut as you continued to twist and tug at his long blonde strands. “yea-yeah,” daeron gasps, putting all of his body weight onto you before placing his face in the crook of your neck. “don’t stop, sweet girl. please, don’t stop.”
a smile twitched on your lips, fingers locked in daeron’s hair. it was fascinating to see your normally stoney faced boyfriend fall apart, and you would keep this little tick of daeron’s hidden in your back pocket from now on.
henry ashton in agggtm and nate jacobs in euphoria having a heartbreaking convo with their moms is so satisfying to watch. you can empathise with both the mom and the son and know that both boys are so evil in their choices to hurt and manipulate people. delicious i love when they show boy moms finally giving their beloved baby boys shit and the boys lose their shit and you can SEE them break.
the time the bright prince feels terribly and woefully neglected by his wife… and you become convinced he’s having an affair
genre/warnings:
mildly suggestive, crack, misunderstandings, insecurities, comfort, fluff, mentions of blood, lannister!reader, they have a newborn!
notes:
another part of the dragon and the lioness but can be read as a standalone. based on this ask heheh <3
Maegor Targaryen.
Aerion had told you that was the only name worthy of his son.
Thankfully, he was nothing like the fearsome legacy attached to that name. With his round, full cheeks, soft silver curls, and wide violet eyes brimming with pure curiosity, the babe looked every bit the picture of innocence. Wherever he went, hearts seemed to melt at the sight of him.
Yet for all his sweetness, Maegor possessed one trait that vexed his father to a degree—
He demanded every ounce of his mother’s attention all day and night. Your attention.
“He’s three moons old,” you reminded him one evening with a frown as Aerion watched Maegor sleeping peacefully against your chest, after telling you how his son had to start learning to let go of you. “He needs his mother and I would have him.”
“Three moons old,” Aerion muttered darkly, “and already a usurper.”
Maegor chose that exact moment to sigh contentedly in his sleep and burrow deeper against you, as if mocking him altogether.
The Bright Prince had begun keeping count of your neglection of him. You would visit the nursery first thing in the morning, and should the babe merely blink his large violet eyes and make a particularly pitiful sound, he would refuse the wet nurses and only cease his whimpering when you held him.
And thus, if he cried, you were there.
If he fussed, you were also there.
Spoiled little thing, his son was. What was the purpose of wet nurses if the boy spent half his waking hours attached to you? He really ought to fire them one of these days.
“They said sons take after their fathers, do they not?”
Daeron let out a snicker after draining another goblet of wine, seemingly enjoying his brother’s predicament. “Your son simply makes it obvious to the rest of us how ravenous you are with your lady wife, brother.”
Aerion shot him glare, internally questioning himself why he had agreed to sit down for drinks with his wastrel of a brother.
“I have spent the past three moons exercising a degree of restraint bordering on sainthood, you mongrel.”
That was actually not an exaggeration. Since Maegor’s arrival, the intimacy he once enjoyed with you had become frustratingly few and far between, and he had to think at least thrice these days to take you to bed!
To his credit, he had adhered to the advice of maesters so far— that was to give you more time following the difficult birth.
Daeron stared at him, then barked out a laugh loud enough to startle the maids.
“Gods above, you are serious!”
Aerion threw him a dark glare, as his brother leaned back in his chair, grinning like a fox.
“Well, since you have nothing better to do, then come with me tonight.”
“For what?”
“For a good time, obviously. There is a feast in the city. Music, drink, performers, gambling, a lot of pretty wenches too—”
“Bwah!”
It astounded even you that your babe could be this adorable.
At times, it felt as though you were cradling a happier, guileless miniature of your husband in your arms. There really was no doubt that this child was his.
“He looks so much like his sire, does he not?” You poked Maegor’s plump cheek, and he immediately rewarded you with a toothless grin.
Your lady’s maid sighed with a smile, nearly melted on the spot. “The image of him, my lady. Those eyes and hair especially.”
You laughed softly and pressed a kiss to Maegor’s forehead, placing him back in his cradle.
Motherhood suited you far more than you had imagined. The long nights, the exhaustion... none of it seemed to matter whenever your little boy wrapped his tiny fingers around you or smiled at the sound of your voice. You loved every moment of it.
Yet if you were being truthful with yourself, you missed Aerion too. Before Maegor’s birth, your prince had scarcely gone a day without finding an excuse to pull you into his arms, but now your days and nights revolved around your son, and the moments you spent alone together had become increasingly rare.
And lately, something felt... different. Aerion had begun returning later than usual, and he smelled of wine. The first time, you dismissed it, but by the fourth, a knot had begun forming in your stomach. Since when had he taken to drinking?
Then one afternoon, while walking through the castle with Maegor in your arms, you happened upon two servants speaking in hushed voices—
“The princes have gone again!”
“Again?”
“Aye. To the town.”
“The new establishment?”
“The very same. They say the owner imported women from across the Narrow Sea and Essos. They cost a fortune...”
It didn’t take you long to figure out that they were talking about a pleasure house. Your stomach twisted. The princes?
They must mean Daeron, surely? But who was the other prince? Because, there was no way that Aerion was seeking comfort from common whores now—
Then again, the word of his brashness towards the princess consort, Valarr’s wife, was apparently quite well-known in King’s Landing. A princess from Pentos, she was an exotic beauty, meanwhile you...
People rarely described you as beautiful. Sweet and pleasant to look upon, they would say, but definitely not the kind that would ensnare princes at the first sight like she did. Moreover, after bearing a child, your body was no longer quite the same as it once had been.
The thought lodged itself in your mind, and despite every effort to dismiss it, a terrible possibility began gnawing at you. What if he has indeed sought comfort elsewhere?
You hated yourself for even thinking it. But when one night, several days later, you spotted him near the servants’ quarters with a woman adorned with golden ornaments unlike anything worn in Westeros—
Your breath caught when Aerion had both of her wrists pinned together in one hand and cornered her.
A great many things seemed determined to test Aerion’s patience these days.
The councils. His father’s demands. Daeron’s antics. By the time evening fell, a dull ache had settled behind the back of his head, and all he wanted was peace, a cup of wine, and his wife.
Especially his wife. The thought to have you wrap him in your arms was enough to ease some of the tension from his shoulders as he strode through the corridors toward your chambers.
However, when he entered it, the warmth he expected was entirely absent. The chamber was darker than usual, half of the candles unlit. You sat perfectly still before the vanity desk, didn’t even turn or rise to greet him.
“Wife?” he asked, stepping forward with a frown. Usually, you favored dark room when you were unwell. “Are you ill—”
“Who is she?”
Your voice was eerily quiet, yet cut through the air so sharply. It was so abrupt that for a moment he simply stared at you, and only after a solid minute did you turn to him, your expression cold enough to frost glass.
“If you tell me now, I may still find it in myself to be merciful and merely send her away. Is it Pentos? Myr? Or perhaps Lys?” The corner of your mouth curved into a sneer. “Lys is famous for its prostitutes, after all.”
Aerion’s jaw tightened. “What do you imply me doing, wife?”
A surge of anger rushed through his veins, severely taking offense. How could you think that lowly of him?
But whatever retort had been forming on his tongue died immediately, because to his astonishment, there were tears in your eyes.
“I gave you a son. I nearly died bringing him into this world.” Your voice trembled slightly as you rose from your seat. “I know we are not always of the same mind, but how could you humiliate me by bringing a common whore here? Do you intend to flaunt her to me?”
You looked devastated, and more than anything, he hated that look in your face. Who had planted this absurdity in your head?
“You are talking nonsense—”
“Nonsense?” Your voice rose sharply. “I saw you with her!”
This had to end. Suddenly Aerion crossed the distance between you in three strides, and you flinched as his hand caught your shoulder, attempting to pull away, but he would not allow it and forced you to face him.
“Look.”
He lifted his other hand before you. At first you did not understand, then your gaze fell upon the gold band encircling his finger. His wedding band.
Aerion stared at you hard, his violet eyes blazing.
“I have worn this since you put it on me on the day of our wedding, and never removed it since.”
On the day of your wedding, the two of you had scarcely been able to tolerate one another. You blinked as another tear fell, trying to hold yourself together.
“You think I would dishonor you? Shame the mother of my son?” he growled through clenched teeth. “I still could see the blood you shed in childbed even in my nightmares. Does that mean nothing to you?”
Three days after Maegor’s birth, your fever worsened and you fell unconscious. You remembered feeling cold, and the bleeding had the sheets beneath you soaked with red. When you awoke, the maesters were surrounding your bed, and your maids were crying.
But standing tall amidst them was Aerion, who never left your side for the remainder of the night. Later, you were told he had threatened every maester in the Red Keep with death should they fail to save you.
The fury in his violet eyes burned brighter. “Now do tell and enlighten me. What part of that ordeal would make me look at another wench and decide she is worth more than you?”
You were still not fully convinced. “But you... the servants saw you going to the whorehouse—”
Aerion let out a harsh exhale.
“I was retrieving Daeron,” he grounded out, each word bitter. “Father’s orders. The wench you saw me with is his whore. A fortune-seeking dullard, I just banished her from Summerhall.”
“You have been drinking lately too—”
“So now I’m forbidden from having a drink?” A muscle twitched beneath his right eye. “I face constant shit and my foolish brother every day. I can’t even bed my wife when she’s next to me and our son hogs her time all day and everyday, meanwhile she is thinking I’m hiding some whore in another chamber— and now I cannot drink? Tell me, do you actually want me to keep my sanity, or do you want to see me lose it and hang the first man I see?”
Somehow, the way he phrased it made you feel sorry for him. You pursed your lips, looking away. “Sure, have your drink, then...”
“Oh, I fucking will, woman, but first thing first—”
Before you could even gasp, he dived in, crushing his lips against yours.
The anger that had choked the room only moments ago dissolved into an instant, consuming heat. It was a punishing kiss at first, choking the breath out of you, but it quickly melted sensually as his hands roamed the curve of your body.
It sure had been a while since he had his hands on you. A moan escaped your lips when he fondled your breasts and pressed you against his torso, creating a delicious friction.
When he finally pulled away, it was with a heavy, ragged breath. His gaze burning down into your eyes as his thumb gently traced your lower lip, which was now swollen from his kisses.
“If it were up to me,” Aerion murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper, “I would fuck you senseless—”
His expression softened, a rare, vulnerable shadow crossing his features along with the rise and fall of his chest. “It’s taking everything in me not to. The fever after your last labor nearly took you from me, and I won’t gamble with your life.”
“I can take moon tea—”
“That blasted tea will make you sick. You are not taking that until it’s absolutely necessary.”
You blinked up at him, your expression softening into a sweet gaze that completely disarmed him. The sheer innocence in your eyes was his undoing.
With a low groan, Aerion leaned down and pulled you in for another deep, lingering kiss, sealing his lust against your lips, before trailing his mouth downward, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder to suck your skin hungrily.
“Who could have known…” His voice was a low, teasing rasp, the words vibrating directly against the skin of your neck, “that my wife is such a fiercely jealous woman that she actually made herself cry?”
He was relishing in this, you realized. When he broke away this time, a victorious smirk touched his lips. “Are you content now, my jealous wife?”
You shot him a look, feeling a heat rush to your face. You tried to muster a glare, but the blush staining your cheeks betrayed you entirely.
“Incorrigible man...” you muttered, turning your face away to hide your embarrassment.
Aerion only laughed, the sound rich and genuinely amused—a rare sound for him these days. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his thumb gently tugging your chin back so you were forced to look at him. “Now what else should I prove to you so you will be satisfied?”
“I want Maegor now.”
Your husband arched an eyebrow, exasperated.
“This is absolute treachery,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. “I finally get you to myself, and you immediately call for that little tyrant?”
. . .
A few moments later, the maids entered the chamber, gently putting baby Maegor into your waiting arms. The moment the infant settled against your chest, he let out a happy, bubbling giggle, his tiny hands reaching up towards your face.
Aerion stood unhappily over the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the display.
“He is fat.”
You scowled at him, tightening your hold over your son protectively. “I love him fat.”
That little boy could be the fattest babe in the Seven Kingdoms and he would still be the apple of your eye. Yet, as your husband looked down at his son, a sudden realization washed over him—
He had always thought the boy took entirely after him, but looking closely at Maegor’s beaming smile, Aerion saw you. The babe had his violet eyes and his silver hair, but the contour of his face, the gentle curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eyes—it was all yours.
Now he sort of understood why he also found him adorable.
“Let me hold him,” he said, already pulling the babe from your grasp.
He brought Maegor against his own broad chest. It was a surreal sight, seeing your brooding prince cradling a fragile, soft infant with the utmost care.
Your heart warmed at the sight though, a profound sense of peace settling over you as you looked at the two absolute loves of your life.
Epilogue
The tender silence lasted for only a minute. Maegor, apparently deciding he had tolerated his father’s hold, suddenly squirmed. With a whimper of protest, the babe pushed his small hands against his father’s chest, fighting the embrace.
Before Aerion could adjust his grip, Maegor’s chubby little hand shot upward, unceremoniously slapping right at his father’s face, as well as scratching his jawline.
Aerion blinked, his head tilting back in sheer disbelief at the audacity of his own flesh and blood. He looked completely stunned, before a look of deep betrayal crossed his features as he glared at his son and you utterly failed to contain yourself and burst into a fit of giggles.
SUMMARY - Having met as children and reuniting once you've grown into a woman, Aerion's previous suspicion of you grows into the softest spot imaginable.
CONTAINS - pure fluff, reader is extremely kind, aerion is only kind to reader, classic sunshine x grumpy
A/N - i personally couldn't stop giggling while writing the "pastry" scene. Ughh i need him
The blazing sun over Summerhall was unforgiving, but it did nothing to melt the sour disposition of Prince Aerion.
At barely ten name days old, the boy was already terror embodied. He sat on a smooth rock by the edge of the river, a fishing rod held tight in his small, tense hands.
His eyes glared at the water as if he could command the fish to bite by sheer noble decree.
“They won’t bite if you keep scowling at them,” a bright voice chimed from behind him.
Aerion stiffened, his jaw tightening. He turned his head sharply, expecting a person sent by his father to drag him back to his lessons.
Instead, he saw you.
You were the daughter of Maekar’s most trusted ally, having arrived only an hour ago.
While the adults spoke of their business, you had wandered out into the sun, your heavy skirts already trailing in the damp grass.
You looked entirely out of place among the solemn guards, a little burst of warmth against the grey stones of summerhall.
“Go away,” Aerion snapped, turning back to the water, “You’ll frighten them.”
“You’re the one frightening them,” you retorted easily, completely unbothered by the venom in his tone.
You marched right up to his rock, your slippers squelching in the mud, and plopped down beside him without asking. “My father says that fishes can sense when someone is angry. They don’t like the energy.”
“Your father is a fool, and so are you,” he hissed, expecting you to cry or perhaps run back to the castle.
But you didn’t seem bothered as you tilted your head, watching the bobber dance on the ripples. “You’re doing it wrong anyway. The bait is too high.”
Aerion opened his mouth to deliver a cutting remark—something about how a dragon did not take lessons from a silly girl—but before the words could leave his lips, your smaller, warmer hands brushed against his.
You reached out, bypassing his defensive posture, and gently adjusted his grip on the handle, lowering the tip of the rod so the bait sank properly into the water.
The prince froze. No one touched him without permission. No one dared.
Yet, as the silence stretched between you, the bobber suddenly dipped aggressively. A heavy tug yanked the line down, nearly pulling the rod from his hands.
“See!” you gasped, your face lighting up with a blinding grin. “Pull, Aerion! Pull!”
Forgetting his pride, Aerion yanked the rod back with all his boyhood strength. A massive trout broke the surface, thrashing wildly and splashing mud and lakewater directly across his pristine tunic, and right into your face.
Aerion braced himself for the screaming. Noble girls and boys always screamed when they got dirty.
But then a bright laughter echoed across the banks. “Look at the size of it! We caught it!”
Aerion looked from the wiggling fish to your mud splattered face. His lips twitched, fighting a smile before he forced his features back into a proud mask.
“I caught it,” he corrected, though his voice lacked any real bite. “You merely watched.”
“We caught it,” you insisted, bending down to take a closer look at the trout.
Your father’s visit ended shortly after, and the brief, strange kinship evaporated into memory as the years pulled you both down separate paths.
Years slipped by like water through fingers, and when you finally returned to court as a young woman, the boy by the lake had become a man feared by the entire realm.
Aerion was breathtakingly beautiful, and notoriously cruel. He walked through court with a sharp tongue and a sharper temper, but that did not faze you.
From afar, Aerion watched you navigate the treacherous nature of court. You were a vision of light, offering warm smiles to the guards, listening patiently to the older women, and showing unfaltering kindness to everyone you crossed.
To him, it was grating. All noble ladies were trained to be sweet, performing acts of grace to secure a good match or win the favour of higher lords.
He waited for you to finally lose your cool.
But the day never came. No, the reality of your kindness crashed directly into him one afternoon near the small council chamber.
You were walking down the corridor with a butterfly that had landed on your arm when the doors of the chamber burst open.
A flurry of lords tumbled out into the hall, fleeing in terror. Among them was the master of coin, frantically wiping dark ink from his doublet with his bleeding hands, his face pale as death.
“Seven hells,” one of the other lords whispered hoarsely, scurrying past you. “The prince has lost his mind entirely!”
You stopped, watching the chaotic retreat. Instead of turning back like any sensible person would, you set the butterfly on a nearby branch and stepped through the heavy doors.
An iron candelabra laid overturned on the floor, dark wax spilling across the polished wood, and an inkwell had been shattered against the wall.
Aerion stood by the high window, his back to you. His shoulders were incredibly tense, and his chest was rising and falling with heavy, angry breaths.
“I thought I made it clear,” Aerion growled without turning, “The next soul to disturb me will lose their tongue.”
“Then it is a good thing I am capable of writing. I do not need my tongue.” you responded lightly, closing the heavy door behind you.
Aerion went still. He turned slowly, his stormy eyes dark with lingering rage. When his gaze landed on you, he let out a harsh, bitter scoff.
“Come to play the saint for me too?” he sneered, maintaining his distance. “Save your sweet smiles for the lords in the hall. I have no patience for your endless charity.”
You took a few measured steps into the room, keeping a respectful distance yourself.
“I don't think they don’t understand how stressful it can be,” you said softly, ignoring his cruel words. “they whisper and push, expecting you to sit quietly while they try to manage your family’s rights. It makes sense that you’d lose your patience when they refuse to listen.”
He stared at you from across the room, his mind struggling to process what he was hearing. He had expected an admonishment, or at the very least, fear.
“They are parasites,” Aerion muttered, his posture unlocking just a fraction. “They look at me as if I am mad because I refuse to let them dictate my bloodline’s terms.”
“I can see that,” you replied gently, giving a small smile. “They may be stressed as well, but no one should have to bend to their whim.”
The room went silent before you spoke again.
“Whenever the court gets too loud for me, I find that walking around the gardens helps. The fresh air is always calming.. maybe it would help you too. It’s quiet out there.”
The fire in his eyes flickered, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. He stared at your face, the lines of his memory remembering the specific curve of your smile.
A breathless laugh escaped him.
“The gardens?” Aerion repeated, his voice dropping the edge it possessed just moments ago.
He took a step forward, assessing your form. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Years ago at Summerhall, you told me the fish wouldn’t bite because of my ‘anger.' Now you’re trying to herd me into the bushes to calm down.”
Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, a soft laugh bubbling up. “You remember that?”
“I remember a girl pushing my hands around and getting me covered in mud,” he murmured.
He then let out a soft click of his tongue, turning to look at the doorway. “Fine. We will walk the gardens. But only because your previous method somehow worked.”
“Of course,” you smiled.
As the weeks progressed, a unique friendship blossomed between you.
Aerion still remained difficult as ever to the rest of the world, but your presence seemed to simmer that down.
The shift did not go unnoticed by the ladies of the court, leading to an afternoon that they wouldn’t stop gossiping about for days.
You were walking through the outer courtyard with a small retinue of noble ladies, the daughters of prominent lords from the Reach. They were talking endlessly, giggling as they spoke of whatever irrelevant topics crossed their minds.
“You must be careful, my dear,” one of the ladies said, leaning in closer to you. “Prince Aerion may be amused by your novelty but once he grows bored of playing with his new toy, you will be left with nothing but yourself.”
“He is a prince of the blood,” another lady chimed in, her voice tight. “They take what pleases them for a moment and cast it aside. Do not mistake a tyrant’s passing curiosity for actual regard.”
“Aerion simply values sincerity,” you replied, offering an unbothered smile. “There is no game being played.”
“You are far too gullible–” the former lady was cut when Aerion walked out from the room beside.
The ladies instantly adjusted their posture, immediately dropping to curtsies as he approached, each of them desperately hoping to catch the prince’s favour despite their previous warnings to you.
Aerion ignored them, his eyes locking firmly onto you.
Without a word of greeting, and completely disregarding decorum, he walked into the center of the group and stepped right into your space, his frame towering over you.
“You’re late,” his voice was low—meant strictly for you, though it carried across the hall.
“Late for what, my Prince?” you asked, tilting your head up to meet his gaze with your beaming expression.
“I am going to the cliffs, and you are coming with me,” he stated flatly.
Behind you, a collective intake of breath echoed from the ladies. Here he was, actively seeking you out, his attention consuming you and utterly shattering their spiteful claims that you were just a passing game.
You looked back at the girls, giving one last smile before parting from them. “Very well, my Prince, if you insist.”
“I do,” Aerion tilted his head, turning on his heel to fall into step right beside you, his side brushing against yours as he guided you out of the yard.
That would not be the first or last time the court would witness the two of you separating from the rest of the world.
During one evening, after failing in your search for Aerion through the whole castle, you found him alone in the secluded parts of the library.
He was sitting alone, staring dead at a massive volume of ancient Valyrian history.
“I am not in the mood for company,” he hissed out, “leave.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in worry before approaching and setting down a small plate of pastries on the corner of the table. You pulled out the empty chair beside him and sat down despite his request.
Reaching over the plate, you picked up a small pastry and held it right in front of his face, completely disregarding his brooding glare.
“Eat,” you insisted gently as Aerion still refused to acknowledge you. “You always go for these specific ones. I know you like them.”
His fingers that had been gripping the edge of the book twitched, and he finally turned his head to look at you.
The weight on his shoulders gradually disappeared as he looked at the pastry, then up at your fond expression.
Aerion didn’t move to take it from your hand. Keeping his intense gaze locked firmly onto yours, he leaned slightly forward.
Then, totally unprompted, he took a bite right out of the pastry while it was still held between your fingers.
A tiny giggle slipped past your lips, a bright warmth blooming all the way to the tips of your ears at the sheer intimacy of it.
You tried to bite your lip to hide your surprise, but your shoulders shook with quiet amusement as you looked into his smug face.
Aerion chewed slowly, the corners of his lips twitching at your giddy reaction.
“You are ridiculous,” he murmured as he swallowed.
“Maybe,” you agreed, your heart fluttering as you set the remaining half down onto the plate. “But it worked. You feel better already, don’t you?”
Aerion stared at you for a moment, drinking in your presence. He did feel better—the tight, suffocating knot in his chest had already unraveled. But it was certainly not because of the pastry.
Slowly, he hesitantly reached out across the small space between your chairs. With one deliberate movement, he dragged your chair until it hit his.
Then, his hand moved to flip over on the table with his palm facing up, his fingers sprawling open in a silent, stubborn invitation.
You, on the other hand, did not hesitate. You slid your hand into his palm, your fingers easily weaving through his.
Aerion squeezed your hand, his rings pressing firmly against your skin, though his touch was surprisingly careful.
However, the true demonstration of expanse that you two had built played out before the entire court during a grand feast, where Aerion’s attempt to maintain his reputation crumbled.
The feast was deafeningly loud.
You were seated next to Aerion by Prince Maekar.
Aerion had spent the first half of the feast interacting with other lords while you conversed with other ladies.
He was glaring at a group of lesser lords when he noticed your sudden silence. Just then, some of the lords he had been talking to earlier called out to him and he tried to force his eyes back on them.
Aerion was aware that you two were the topic of conversation as of late. He couldn’t let the people of court think he had gone soft. At least that was what his pride told him.
But the sight of your fragile form pulled at him like a physical anchor, shattering his resolve. His demeanor instantly changed.
He turned fully in his seat toward you, his cold stare evaporating.
“You’re pale,” Aerion murmured, voice stripped away of anything harsh. “What is it?”
“Just… a headache, Aerion,” you whispered softly, giving him a tired smile. “The noise is particularly loud tonight.”
Aerion didn’t waste a second as he gently used his hand to cradle the back of your head.
His fingers began combing through the loose parts of your hair, his thumb tracing circles down your temple to ease the pressure.
The chatter around the surrounding tables died down, dozens of eyes tracking his movements, yet no one dared to disrupt. They watched as Aerion paid no mind to everything else the moment you showed discomfort.
You leaned into his touch, a smile returning to your face. “Aerion… everyone is watching.”
Aerion let out a defeated sigh as he grinned. “Let them stare,” he concluded, his fingers tucking in a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve broken me anyway.”
Shifting his broad shoulders, he blocked the rest of the room from view, shielding you from prying eyes.
“You are tired,” he paused, “if anyone breathes a word about that, I will have their heads.”
“You can’t murder the entire court,” you teased, lifting your head up for a moment.
A faint smile broke across his face. “Watch me,” he repeated, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. “Now hold still and let me fix it.”
contains ᦸ fluff established relationship one suggestive joke sleepy peter they are too cute I’m sickk ٫٫ 1.9k
❛❛ keeping your sleepy boyfriend up with your silly questions
Peter lays on his stomach, head half-buried in his pillow, hair damp from a rushed shower, and sweatpants slung low around his hips. His shirt had ridden up to show his pale ribcage; you can tell by the slow and heavy breaths that he’s close to falling asleep. He had come back home dead tired from a long day of work at the station with your mom, nearly falling asleep in the shower if it wasn't for you reminding him not to hog all the hot water.
You quietly snuck out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that was dimly lit from the small lamp that was on the desk—a gift from Peter who swore it wouldn’t hurt your eyes—along with the Christmas lights the two of you had strung up on the headboard months ago.
Christmas has always been your favorite time of the year ever since you were little—your mom had the embarrassing childhood pictures to prove it. But the misfortune your family had been through had taken the joy from the holiday. To celebrate, it had felt more like a chore over the years, trying to get your mom and Leah together for it without any arguments.
Peter helped you find how to love it again.
You quietly tiptoed to the bed, scrunching your nose up at the sound of the bed creaking when you got on it. You smiled and watched as he barely stirred as he felt the mattress dip under your weight as you moved to lie on your side next to him. He looked so cute with his cheeks pressed into his pillow, his sleepy pout on his lips, and his messy hair; you almost hated to disrupt his peace, almost.
“Pete?” You cooed, laying a gentle hand on his back, rubbing soft circles over the dip of his back, your other hand holding up your head. He breathed out a quiet exhale, letting out a small hum, too tired to speak. All he could think about was how warm and comfortable the bed was, practically lulling him to sleep.
“Would you still love me if I were bald but only had bangs?” Your tone was dead serious but soft, waiting patiently for your boyfriend's response. He slowly turned his head to face you, eyes still closed, and face still pressed into the pillow.
“What?” He mumbles out in confusion and disbelief, voice muffled by the pillow. He wouldn’t be surprised if his sleep-deprived mind made that whole sentence up. He had worked so hard at the station, following all the leads Liz wanted, hoping that he’d get home to you sooner. But it didn’t happen like that. He finished one thing, and then Liz had four more things for him to do.
“Omg I knew you wouldn’t.” You pouted dramatically with a small huff, moving your hand from his lower back to teasingly poke his side. Peter lets out a strange noise at the feeling of your fingers digging into his skin, instinctively bringing his arm down to protect his side. You knew he was very ticklish.
He let out a small groan as he fluttered his eyes open, looking at you through his half-lidded eyes. His words held no weight as he muttered, “You are being ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous in lov—“ you cooed as you smiled at him, only to be cut off when he surged forward, pulling you into a kiss to silence you. You let out a muffled hum at the happy interruption, leaning into the kiss as your lips slowly moved in tandem in sweet kisses.
Peter rested his forehead against yours after he slowly pulled away, mumbling against your lips, “Go to sleep.”
You pouted with a small huff as he pulled away and lay his head back on the pillow, his eyes closed. He just gave you the sweetest kiss, and yet he was just lying back down? You roll over to lie on your stomach, your legs up, as you rest your head in your hands. The last thing you wanted to do was sleep; you barely got to see Peter in the span of the past few days…you missed him.
You whispered fondly as you admired his features, “You’re so cat coded.”
Peter groaned sleepily and hid his face in his pillow, hiding his smile that he couldn’t contain. You tilt your head to the side and absentmindedly slowly kick your feet back and forth in the air. You hummed thoughtfully, “Pete baby, I have a question.”
“Please don't start this,” Peter pleaded dramatically, knowing that this wasn’t going to be just one question; it never was with you on nights like this. Despite all of his ‘complaining’—he truly did love these moments, because he loved you.
You ignored Peter’s dramatic plea and scooted closer to him, whispering, “If I went into a coma and you got in a relationship but then I woke up, who would you be with?”
He couldn’t help but groan loudly at your words, squeezing his eyes shut as he rolled over onto his side to face you, still hiding his face in the pillow. He scrunched his nose up, not liking your words at all, and he wasn’t going to entertain them anymore.
His words came out muffled, “Why would you ask me that before bed?—I'm going to have a nightmare.”
You giggled at how cute he sounded and how cute he looked with his face squished against the pillow, his nose scrunched up, and he had that cute pout on his lips you so desperately wanted to kiss. Your eyes slowly trailed down his bare chest and to his bicep, which looked like it was begging to be bitten, and that’s just what you did. You leaned forward and playfully nipped at his warm skin, letting your tongue smooth the sting. All Peter could do was let out a mix of a moan and groan, “Mmph.”
You pull away and pout dramatically at the lack of reaction he gave you; your boyfriend really was tired. Too bad you weren’t. Your sweet boyfriend has been gone all day, leaving you all alone and bored at home. Could anyone really blame you for wanting to have a conversation with your boyfriend that you missed?
“Would you still love me if I got turned into a fish by an evil wizard?” You asked seriously, using your free hand that wasn’t holding your head up, to softly caress his hip. Your fingers teasingly dipped under the band of his boxers, feeling him tense under your touch. Peter mutters with a tired huff, a hint of humor in his tone, “No.”
“But I'd still be me!—well, in fish form…you're really going to let the evil wizard tear us apart like that!?” You exclaimed dramatically with a gasp, sitting up on your elbow as you looked down at him. He sighed as he felt the bed shift, slowly opening his eyes to look up at you, blinking a few times so he could fully admire how pretty you looked. Even with that faux upset look on your face.
“Mhm”
“I’m going to suffocate you,” you hissed playfully, trying to hold back your smile and laugh as the two of you locked eyes. The tiredness you were starting to sadly feel made you feel even more silly; it was a cute sight in Peter's eyes. Peter rolled his eyes dramatically before he fauxed boredom. “Please do”
“Rude,” you pouted with a small huff as you moved to lie back down on your side, resting one of your hands under your face, the other resting between your bodies. Peter hummed and adjusted the blanket so he could pull it over the two of you, making sure you were properly tucked in and warm.
You smile and lie there comfortably as he tucks the two of you in tight under the couple of blankets. He hummed happily and rested his head back on his pillow, giving you a big dopey smile that showed off his dimples. Your legs brushed against each other before you tangled them together. Just as his eyes started to close, you were opening your mouth, ”If I were cloned, would you have two girlfriends?”
That was not the ‘I love you’ or the ‘good night’ he expected. He let out a tired chuckle before muttering in confusion, “No?”
“Why not? Do you not love me enough?” You questioned him with a fake glare and an accusing hum. You raise your eyebrow and move your finger to poke his stomach. He winced dramatically and opened his eyes again, giving you an annoyed look, but you could see his lips twitching, holding himself back from smiling.
He gives you an unimpressed look, “Babe.”
You let out a dramatic and loud sigh, nodding softly as you pout and move your leg between his thighs, adjusting a little to get comfortable. “Okay, okay, I'm done.”
A few beats of silence…and then the sound of his whisper, “I’d have three.”
The two of you break out into a fit of tired giggles at his words, the fact that the two of you were tired made it so much more funnier than it was. Peter presses his face into the pillow to muffle his laughter when you finally speak between your giggles, “Crazy fivesome that is.”
Peter smiled as he watched you calm down from your laughter, a heavy breath leaving your parted lips. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you stared lovingly into each other's eyes, talking with your eyes. He leaned his head forward, softly pressing his forehead against yours, the two of you fluttering your eyes closed at the soft contact.
You knew you could fall asleep in that moment, his warmth and soft touch. The faint sound of his breathing, the way the bed and blankets molded around the two of you. But no matter how tired you were—you just couldn’t turn your brain off. You flutter your eyes open, whispering mischievously, “Would you ever fuck me wearing your police uniform?”
“Oh my god, go to bed,” Peter huffed with a dramatic whine, reaching his arm out so he could grab your waist and pull you closer so you were pressed up against him. You couldn’t help but giggle as he held you tightly against him, tilting your head up to say another sassy remark, but all that left your lips was laughter, feeling a little ticklish from the way he held your waist.
Peter felt his face and neck go warm at your words, leaning down and shushing you with a few quick kisses to your lips. A small huff of annoyance left your lips when he pulled away too soon; he had to stop himself from smirking at the sound. He adjusted the two of you so you could lie more comfortably, your head snuggled into his chest. Slipping his hand under your shirt so his warm hand can rub softly at your back, he placed a long kiss on the top of your head.
You let out a small sigh, your body melting into his touch. No more questions, you decided. The sound of his heartbeat against your ear soothes you, along with his warm touch. You close your eyes and let yourself finally relax, tracing a heart on his side. A silent ‘I love you’, Peter was quick to do the same thing on your back.
With your face squished against his chest, you couldn’t see how the flustered look on his face turned into a cocky smile as he thought real hard on your last question. He holds you tighter, mumbling into your hair, loud enough for you to hear, “The answer is yes, by the way.”
You smiled triumphantly at his words, making sure to put that on your mental to-do list!
┊࿐ ❛❛ continue on to my…. 𝙖𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 & 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ❜❜
Ი𐑼 here’s the first fic for our babies (∩˃o˂∩) ♡ i am oh so in love with them and i hope you are too 🤞please tell me your thoughts , this is a interactive au so your guy’s thoughts, ideas, and opinions are very important and wanted !! comments, reblogs and feedback is very welcomed !!
-18+ loss of virginity/first time sex!!, protected sex, fingering, vibrator use, oral fixation/sucking fingers clean, slight size kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, premature ejaculation, and one extremely smug man discovering he likes making his girl cum more than breathing!!!! lols ᥫ᭡
the movie was some mindless rom-com you'd picked, the kind where the leads fall in love in improbable ways against a sparkling city backdrop. you were curled up on your bed, tucked against his side, but you weren't watching the screen. you were watching him.
aerion was rigid. not his usual confident, take-what-he-wants self, but a statue carved from pure, undiluted anxiety. his eyes kept flicking from the television to your face, to the hand you had resting on his thigh, back to the television. he'd swallowed about a dozen times in the last ten minutes.
"you hate this movie, don't you?" you whispered, nudging him with your shoulder.
he startled, like you'd caught him doing something wrong. "what? no. it's... fine."
"it's fine?" you repeated, a smile playing on your lips.
"was just thinking," he mumbled, refusing to meet your gaze.
you knew what he was thinking about. the plan. the one you'd made a week ago, before you'd left for summer camp, a plan that had felt both terrifying and thrilling. your parents were out of town until tomorrow.
you were in your favorite soft pajamas, the ones with the little clouds on them. and you were almost certain he had condoms burning a hole through his wallet in his pocket.
you decided to put him out of his misery. you shifted, turning to face him fully, and placed your hand flat on his chest. his heart was hammering against your palm.
"aerion," you said softly.
he finally looked at you, and his eyes were so dark, so full of that intense emotion he always tried to hide. "yeah?"
"do you still want to do it? i want to if you-"
he let out a shaky breath, a sound that was half laugh, half pure relief.
"god, i was trying to figure out how to... i didn't want to..." he trailed off, just shaking his head.
he leaned in and kissed you, and it was different from his usual kisses. it was soft, almost hesitant, like he was afraid you might break.
you kissed him back, deepening it, threading your fingers into his hair. his hands came up to frame your face, holding you gently as he explored your mouth. when you pulled back, you were both breathing heavily.
"okay," he said, his voice a low rasp. he fumbled in his jeans pocket, his movements clumsy as he pulled out his wallet. he shook not one, but three foil packets onto your bedside table.
you burst out laughing. "three, aerion? really?"
his face flushed a deep red, spreading all the way to his ears. "shut up," he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. "i just... i wanted to be prepared. in case... i don't know, in case one ripped or something."
"that's sweet," you said, your voice soft as you reached out to trace the line of his jaw. "it's really sweet."
he captured your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm. "let me..." he started, then stopped, taking a steadying breath. "let me take care of you."
you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak.
he helped you out of your cloud pajamas, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on your top. his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't get the last one, and he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. you gently brushed his hands aside and did it yourself, letting the shirt fall open.
he stared at you, his eyes wide and reverent. "you're..." he breathed, but couldn't seem to find the rest of the words. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then another between your breasts. his mouth was warm and his lips were soft.
he stripped off his own shirt, and you got to touch the hard planes of his chest, the smooth skin stretched over lean muscle.
he shivered slightly under your touch.
when it came to the rest of your clothes, it was a symphony of awkwardness. knees knocked, limbs got tangled, and he nearly fell off the bed trying to get his jeans off. you were both giggling, the nervous tension breaking apart into something warm and comfortable.
finally, you were both naked, the movie still playing forgotten in the background. he knelt over you, just looking, his expression so full of adoration it made your chest ache.
"you're sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"i've never been more sure of anything," you replied.
he took one of the condoms, his fingers still clumsy as he tore the foil. he rolled it on with a concentration usually reserved for finals, his brow furrowed in focus. then he settled between your legs, his weight a comforting pressure.
he looked you in the eye as he positioned himself, his gaze searching yours. "okay?"
"okay," you breathed.
he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the sensation was overwhelming. a strange, stretching pressure that was a little bit painful and a little bit perfect. he stopped, his whole body tense, waiting for you.
"are you okay? did i hurt you?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.
"no, it's... it's just-" you gasped, trying to find the words. "it's just... big."
a flicker of pure, unadulterated male pride crossed his face before he could tamp it down. "yeah?" he breathed, a smug little smile tugging at his lips.
you wanted to roll your eyes, but the feeling of him starting to move, slow and shallow, wiped your mind clean of any witty comebacks. he was trying to be gentle, trying to make it good for you, but you could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his breath hitched every time he sank deeper.
he was holding on by a thread.
it was over almost before it began. with a choked gasp of your name he came, his hips stuttered and he froze, his whole body shuddering against yours. he buried his face in your neck, his breathing ragged and hot against your skin.
for a moment, there was only the sound of his harsh breaths and the distant dialogue from the tv. then he lifted his head, his face a mask of utter mortification.
"fuck," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i'm so sorry. that's…i'm sorry."
"hey," you said softly, reaching up to push the damp hair off his forehead. "it's okay. it's our first time."
"it was supposed to be about you," he insisted, his voice thick with frustration. "i was supposed to make it good for you."
"it is good," you lied gently.
he just shook his head, his expression devastated. he looked so wrecked, so utterly unlike his usual confident self. then, a spark of determination lit his eyes. "no. we’re not done." he started to pull out, but you stopped him.
"aerion, wait."
"i can make you cum," he said, his voice firm. "i can. just...let me try."
before you could protest, he was moving again, his hips resuming a clumsy, determined rhythm. he shifted his angle, trying to find the spot that made your breath catch, his hand slipping down between your bodies to rub clumsy circles against your clit.
it was sweet, and it was earnest, but it wasn't quite... enough. the pressure was building, but it was a slow, frustrating climb.
"you know," you said, your voice a little breathless. "we could... we could use something else."
he stopped, looking down at you in confusion. "what else?"
you gestured with your chin toward your nightstand. "in the drawer. its purple."
his eyes widened as he processed what you were saying. he slowly pulled out, dealing with the condom before leaning over to open the drawer. he pulled out your small, bullet-shaped vibrator, holding it like it was a foreign artifact.
"you want me to... use this?" he asked, looking from the toy to you, a new kind of nervousness in his eyes.
"yeah," you said, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "if you want to. it feels really good."
a slow, wicked grin spread across his face, the first truly confident expression he'd worn all night. "oh, i want to," he purred, clicking it on. a low buzz filled the room. "show me how."
you took the buzzing toy from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. "here," you said, your voice a little shaky. "just... like this."
you guided his hand, showing him how to hold the vibrator, how to press it against your slick folds. he watched, his eyes dark and intent, as you moved his hand in slow circles. the buzzing against your clit was immediate, a jolt of pleasure that made you gasp.
"right there?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
"mmhmm," you breathed.
he took over, his movements clumsy at first, but quickly growing more confident as he watched your reactions.
he learned you, his eyes never leaving your face as he experimented with pressure and speed. the buzzing was a steady thrum of pleasure, building inside you, a slow, delicious coil of heat.
"you like that?" he asked, a smug satisfaction in his voice now that he knew he was doing it right.
"yes," you moaned, arching your back. "don't stop."
he didn't. he kept the pressure steady, his other hand coming up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. the dual sensations were overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.
he watched you, a predator learning his prey's every tell. the way your back arched, the sounds you made, the way your thighs started to tremble. he was a quick study, his confidence growing with every gasp he pulled from you.
"look at you," he breathed, his voice a low, filthy rumble. he slid two fingers from his other hand down, teasing your entrance before sinking them knuckle-deep inside you. you cried out, your walls clamping down around him. "fuck," he groaned. "tight, too. so goddamn tight and wet…”
he started a rhythm with his fingers, a slow, deliberate curling motion that hit that spot inside you every time, all while the vibrator continued its relentless assault on your clit. he was playing you like an instrument, and you were completely at his mercy.
he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. it was all teeth and tongue. "can you feel how hard you make me?" he growled against your lips, grinding his once-again-hard cock against your thigh.
you could only moan in response, your mind going blank with pleasure. the coil of heat in your belly was winding tighter and tighter, a spring ready to snap.
"that's it, pretty girl," he coaxed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "let go. i wanna feel you cum all over my hand. i wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeeze my fingers c’mon."
he increased the pressure of the vibrator, his fingers pumping faster, and that was all it took. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, a blinding, explosive wave of pleasure that ripped a scream from your throat. you came hard and fast, your juices flooding his hand.
he didn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess. only then did he slowly pull his fingers from you. he brought them to his face, his eyes locked on yours, and deliberately, slowly, sucked them clean.
“oh my god aerion-”
he smirked around his fingers, slowly pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop.
he tossed the vibrator onto the nightstand, its buzzing suddenly silent in the room. the absence of the noise made your own ragged breathing seem impossibly loud. he shifted, moving over you, his knees nudging your thighs apart. his cock, hard and heavy, rested against your stomach, a hot, insistent weight.
"you taste so fucking good," he groaned, leaning down to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his tongue. he kissed you deeply, hungrily, like he couldn't get enough. "all that just for me hm?"
he reached down, taking himself in his hand, running the thick, swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. he teased your entrance, not pushing in, just letting you feel him.
“condom aerion-” you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair.
he froze. the thick, swollen head of his cock was still nestled against your slick entrance, a tantalizing promise of what was to come.
for a second, he didn't move, his body a tense, rigid line above you. then he let out a harsh, frustrated sigh and dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
"shit," he muttered against your skin. "oh shit, right. fuck."
the foil wrapper crinkling in his hand. he tore it open with his teeth, his movements sharp and impatient. he rolled the condom on, and was back on you in a flash, his body covering yours, his weight a familiar, possessive pressure. he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his cock now sheathed in latex, pressing against your entrance.
"there," he said, his voice a little rough.
he pressed forward, just the tip breaching you. "tell me," he demanded, his eyes dark and intense. "tell me you want it."
you were still floating in the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your body pliant and eager. "please," you whimpered, your hips rising to meet his. "please, aerion."
that was all he needed. with one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. you both groaned at the sensation, the perfect, full feeling of him stretching you. he stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged.
"fuck," he breathed. "you are so pretty…"
he started to move then, a slow, deep rhythm that had your toes curling. he was watching you, his eyes dark and intent, as if memorizing the way your face contorted in pleasure.
"you like the way i stretch this little pussy open? mm? my girl?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
you could only nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he was hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.
"say it," he demanded, his hips snapping forward, his rhythm growing more erratic. "tell me this is for me."
"it's yours," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "i’m all yours, aerion."
"damn right you are," he grunted, his pace quickening.
you were lost, lost in the sensation, lost in him. you could feel another orgasm building, a slow, delicious coil of heat in your belly. "don’t stop-" you cried out. "please aerion-"
“i know, i know. i’ve got you-” he panted, his fingers coming down to press hard against your clit.
he came with a guttural groan, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled himself into the condom, in you. you followed him over the edge a moment later, your body convulsing around him, a silent scream tearing from your throat as waves of pleasure washed over you.
he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and spent, his face buried in the crook of your neck. for a long time, the only sounds were your ragged breaths mingling in the quiet room.
finally, he lifted his head, his eyes soft and sated. "told you i'd make you feel good," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face.
you laughed, pulling him down for a soft kiss. "you're very proud of yourself, aren't you?"
"i am," he said, kissing you back, his tongue delving into your mouth.
"you always do, make me feel good-" you whispered against his lips.
he rolled off you, but immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his side. he was quiet for a long time, just stroking your hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your scalp. the post-orgasmic haze settled over you both, a comfortable, warm silence.
you could feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm. his hand stilled in your hair, and he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. the smugness was gone, replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression.
"so," he started, his voice a little rough. "that was...okay?"
you turned your head to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "just okay?" you teased gently.
a faint blush crept up his neck, a rare sight that made your heart flutter. "no, not just okay," he amended quickly, a hint of his usual defensiveness creeping in. "it was...it was good. it was fucking great. but was it...good for you? like, really?"
you rolled over to face him fully, draping an arm over his waist. "it was more than good, aerion," you said softly, sincerity in your voice. "it was perfect."
he let out a breath he didn't seem to realize he was holding, his whole body relaxing. "yeah?" he asked, a small, genuine smile finally touching his lips. "even when i was being a...you know. a bossy asshole?"
you laughed, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "especially then," you admitted. "i like it when you're a bossy asshole."
he leaned down and kissed you again. "it's not just about me getting off. i want... i want you to feel good. i need you to feel good. seeing you like that... it's the best part."
he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you, holding you tight. "and the vibrator?" he asked, a hint of his usual cockiness returning.
"you're a very fast learner," you said, your voice muffled against his chest.
he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "what can i say? i'm a man of many talents."
you looked up at him, at the messy hair, the satisfied smile, the soft look in his eyes that was just for you. "you are," you agreed.
Daeron loses all wit the moment his lady love kisses his neck. He’s mid-sarcastic quip when she slips behind him, pressing her lips to his skin. He falls silent at once, a soft, helpless sound escaping him as he tilts his head aside, offering her more.
evening light came streaming in through the windows of your chambers, lighting the space in a soft yellow glow as the sun begins its journey behind the distant hills. dappled sunlight catches in your eyelashes as you blink from where you hunch over on the bed, writhing on your hands and knees.
your husband’s hands are tight on your hips, gripping the flesh as he splits you apart on the thick of his cock, grunting little obscenities as he ruts you deeper and deeper into the feathered mattress, your hands and knees pressing indents into the silk.
but you’re wriggling too much. you can’t help it. pleasure sits hot in the pit of your womb, a sticky sort of pressure in the base of your spine too, and you just can’t help the way you wriggle your hips to chase it away, or tremble on your hands and knees when it starts to be too much.
you can’t help it, but maekar can.
you pitch a whine from the back of your throat as his cock spreads the wet clutch of your pussy apart, dragging deep towards the plug of your cervix as he ruts into you, hips smacking against the flesh of your arse. but that’s when you feel it—the solid mass of his chest and abdomen as he leans over you, crowds you, then the thick, scarred column of his arm as it wraps around your throat.
you yelp when he hauls you up until you’re kneeling with him, your sweat-slick back flush with his chest. the corded muscles in his arm contract as he pins your neck into the crook of his elbow, his head coming to rest directly beside your ear.
you suck in a gasp at the new angle and the way the head of his cock pushes up deep inside you. the pressure makes you keen, moaning his name as he traps you against his chest. your hands find his arm, nails dimpling the sun-kissed skin, as he noses at the shell of your ear, his hips rucking upwards.
“you’re restless today,” maekar mutters, tip of his cock nailing that perfect spot inside you. you mewl, clutching his arm as your pussy flutters around him. he pants against the pulse point below your ear. “you just couldn’t kneel there and take it, could you? were you waiting for this, sweet girl?”
his cock hits deep, the velvet ridges along the length rubbing against the slick walls of your cunt. you take him so well, squeezing tight each time he thrusts in and out, slick dribbling from you as he takes what he needs.
you whine in response. “no, maekar, i’m—”
“s’alright, s’alright…” maekar coos, his other hand curling around your waist to press flat to the mound of your lower belly. “i’ve got you, sweet girl. can’t go anywhere now, can you?”
the strong mass of his arm presses tighter to your throat, and you suck in a sharp breath. you hold his arm too, anchoring yourself as he fucks you, your entire body shifting with each of his movements. he’s grunting in your ear, and a couple of damp, white strands of hair fall across his forehead and rub near your temple.
“that’s a good girl, that’s it,” he whispers, feeling your pussy flutter around him. he’s holding you firm against him, the space between you nonexistent and boiling hot. the hand on your belly presses in, the added pressure making you cry out his name. he kisses your cheek softly. “s’alright, don’t fuss, sweet girl. just take it—just fucking take it.”
you can’t do much but take it, really. you’re pinned to his body, heat radiating from him. the bed creaks softly as his hips slam up against you, and he groans right in your ear. you moan his name in response, the vowels stretched around a whine, and he kisses the heated skin of your cheek again.
“my sweet girl, my best girl,” your husband rambles, breathing harshly as his cock ruts in and out of you, the wet heat of your cunt sucking him in. he groans, “i think you’ll take my seed just as well as you take my cock, won’t you?”
you whimper, gasping through the sound as the head of his cock grinds up against that spot inside you that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. the heat in your belly and the pressure in your spine threatens to shatter within you, and you clutch maekar’s arm in support as he fucks you. he groans, revelling in the tight squeeze of your pussy and the way slick dribbles from you, wet across the seam of his balls as he moves.
“she’s begging me for it,” maekar utters, holding you tightly as you flutter around him. “she wants me to fill her, doesn’t she? she wants me to fill her, sweet girl, i can feel it.”
you moan. “maekar, please, please, please—”
“i know, i know, i’ve got you,” your husband mutters, kissing your cheek as the heat and pressure inside finally overwhelm you. he feels your body seize up, your cunt clenching vice-like around the thick of his cock, and he knows you’re on the edge. his hand on your lower belly presses down even firmer. “let me feel you.”
you splinter from the inside out, orgasm racking through you as heat bursts like stars in your veins, and the pressure in your belly dissolves into the marrow of your bones. you come with his name on your lips, moans filling your chambers as your body trembles against his, nails digging into the scarred skin of his forearm. he fucks you through it, trapping you against him as you tremble and whine, pleasure flushing through your veins.
“good girl, there we go,” he mutters, practically bouncing your spent body back onto his. your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he plants a wet kiss to the junction of your jaw. his hips snap, then snap up again, and he growls where he kisses you, his balls drawing tight. “gods above, you’re so fucking tight. she’s begging for a babe, isn’t she? cunt’s pitching a right fit—doesn’t want to let me go.”
you mewl softly, eyes closing as maekar barrels towards his own release. there’s a sharp pressure in the base of his spine, and you can feel the desperation of his movements as he chases that pressure towards its breaking point.
maekar groans, thick and rumbling. “i’ll spill inside you, alright, sweet girl? fill you with my babe—fuck, you always look so fucking good when you’re with child, when you’re round with my babe. yeah, fuck—fuck, my sweet girl, my perfect girl—”
he’s rambling now, and that’s when you know. maekar groans your name right against the shell of your ear as his hips stutter, the arm around your throat pinning you back as he spills inside you. the pressure in his spine snaps and spreads, and he moans deep from his chest as the heat of his orgasm crashes over him. his cock nudges deep inside, right at the base of your cervix, and paints you in thick, hot ropes.
being filled has you leaning back into his hold, whimpering across a sigh as he ruts a few more times, emptying himself completely as your pussy pulls tight, milking him. he kisses along your jaw, cradling you as his cock jerks, then softens where he’s buried, slick and seed drooling slowly from where you connect.
“there we go…” maekar whispers, large hand rubbing across your belly as if that’ll help the taking process. he kneads the soft fat there with calloused fingers. “nice and full, sweet girl.”
you whine, pliant in his arms, blinking the setting sunlight from your eyes.
he kisses your cheek. “always do so well for me—” another kiss, then another. “—i love you, sweet girl.”
Im not gonna lie i thought there would be waaaay more Max Hastings fics online.
Hes not a good person, very well aware of that, but I just kindof assumed whith how famous the agggtm books are that even he would have more fics? But now that i look at it theres less than a 100 with him in it (that i can find). The majority of these fics arent even about him specifically, but tagged w him cuz he appears in it for a scene or two or is mentioned.
And dont get me wrong, not blaming anyone, ive been in plenty of fandoms with less content, i was just hella surprised and was wondering if anyone else had the same idea?
All the more reason for me to step my game up and create i guess. I suppose now that Henry Ashron plays him more people will be interested, but it was suchhh a shocker to notice!
If anyone has some good recs do fele free to send me and or comment! Would love to read more about him, and im not picky when it comes to tropes or relationships :)
