What SHOULD have happened during the High Lord meeting
Beron moved to the Lady of Autumn's seat, resting a hand on her shoulder. The same arm that now bore a bright scar. She did not so much as flinch, but her hand tightened around Eris's wrist.
"You have injured my wife, viciously attacked my heir, and made an attempt on my life. These are acts of war, little girl. Perhaps your mate should have done better filling you with knowledge of politics and common sense rather than vile seed!"
"Beron!"
"I have spoken my piece!" he snarled in answer to Thesan's snap. Beron turned back to the Night Court and pointed his finger.
"Too long have we endured the arrogance of this insolent half-breed. Well. No longer." Beron spat out the words, "This meeting was the last straw in a bale of thousands. As High Lord of Autumn, I declare war on Night."
The ripple was instantaneous.
"Father, are you certain of this?" Eris murmured.
But Beron did not answer his son. His gaze was fixed on Rhys's frozen face. The male recovered quickly, a sneer forming on his lips.
"What matter is it of mine whether you wage war on us or not? We both know your forces are nothing in comparison to Night's."
Beron's face turned thunderous, and he opened his mouth to reply when a voice cut through, sharp and clear.
"Spring will stand with you, Lord Beron."
Rhys barked out a laugh, relaxing "Oh? With what army?"
Tamlin merely smiled, unsheathing those deadly claws and letting them gleam in the steady candle light.
"I don't need one. I killed one High Lord of Night before. I can do it again."
This girl on tiktok made such a good point I wasn't able to stop thinking about it since.
If Nesta was in such a bad state she had to be institutionalized by her family in a place she couldn't leave and have her choices taken away from her, she wasn't sane enough to consent to any intimacy and sex with Cassian either.
Let that sink in.
Ps: not to mention Cassian was in a serious position of power over her at the time with huge power imbalance which is already extremely inappropriate and icky.
I subscribe to the notion that Maekar had pretty long hair for much of his life until he lopped it off during the Blackfyre Rebellion. Practical as always (Baelor will be grieving it for years). Meanwhile Baelor looks largely the same, although with slightly more hair and less salt and pepper in it. I have a more interesting design in mind for how he looked as a child and a teen, but I imagine he maintained a relatively consistent look once he hit adulthood.
When Rhysandâs mother decided his future wife must be able to escape the clutches of a death god in order to prove her love for her son, Rhysand straight up surrendered Feyre to the Weaver. He sent his mate to a trap no other fae ever survived solely to satisfy his dead mother and his own ego.
When Tamlin had to make a woman profess her love for him in order to save all of Prythian at the risk of her getting harmed, he sent Feyre home.
Something that's just occurred to me. We all know the Night Court has a problem with lying, right? Like, they are the absolute worst, deceitful motherfuckers in the series. But it honestly comes across sometimes like they think being honest is... wrong? Like, not just that being honest would disadvantage them or whatever, but that being truthful is actually some sort of moral failing on the truthful person's part?
The specific example I'm thinking of (though there's loads to choose from) is actually how Lucien is treated after he tells Elain about the mating bond. He's treated like a pariah, a pushy creep, as if he's "forcing" himself on Elain or something... but all he did was tell her the bond existed. She now has that information, and can understand that any feelings of being "drawn" to him or whatever are because of that, and make her decision about whether to pursue it or not in light of that knowledge.
Contrast Rhysand and Cassian, both of whom initially hid the truth about their mating bonds from their partners. They both tried to weasel their way closer to them *without* giving them this knowledge, which makes it look highly sus and dishonest. And yet, they aren't treated with anywhere near the same disdain as Lucien, despite doing objectively creepier things. The only difference is that Lucien was honest with Elain about what was happening.
It's... very odd, to be honest. But there's many other examples. The way Nesta is treated after telling Feyre the truth about her pregnancy - she's the one framed by the book as needing punishment, not any of the liars who hid it from Feyre. The Summer Court book heist, where even as an alliance and friendship is offered openly to them, they choose deception and trickery instead, and Summer is framed as being in the wrong for being mad about being lied to and robbed. How they first looked into stealing the queens' half of the Book, even though they knew it was magically required to be freely given, and again, the queens are framed as being in the wrong for "forcing" the Night Court to have to "stoop" to being truthful. How anytime they have to "reveal" that Velaris exists is framed as such a Great Sacrifice that the other person should be grateful for, when most people consider honesty the bare fucking minimum. And if they're not wowed by its existence, well, you guessed it, they're framed as being wrong for it. The "masks" the NC allegedly wear, and again, how not wearing them is framed as some Great Sacrifice on their part. And if anyone is mad about being lied to, well, again, *they* are the ones framed as being in the wrong for *daring* to think lying is bad.
It's just... very strange. And it's so un-self-awarely embedded in the writing that I'm 100% sure it's not meant as an intentional flaw on the Night Court's part. The book just... thinks truth makes you evil and lying makes you good. And I'm not sure what to make of that.
Night Court: Spends 500 years running a PR campaign to convince everyone else they're evil
Night Court: Is infamous for its tyranny and debauchery, and also for having the Most Powerful Daemati High Lord Ever as its lord
Night Court: The High Lord willingly serves Amarantha (Hybern's general) for no apparent reason other than to save his own skin (because no one else knows about the secret city he sacrificed the rest of his court to save, after all)
Night Court: High Lord publicly abuses a human girl for months Under the Mountain, in front of all the other High Lords
Night Court: High Lord kidnaps said girl from her wedding to the Spring Lord, she later turns up married to Night with an explanation that definitely doesn't involve mind-control
Night Court: Approaches Summer on the pretext of forging an alliance, betrays and robs them instead
Night Court: Sends formerly human girl as a double-agent to break the Spring Court from within
Night Court: Somehow Just Knew about an imminent attack on the Summer Court, despite no one else getting word. And they definitely don't try to leverage this as capital against their previous offences against Summer
Night Court: Tries to change the time and location of the High Lord meeting at the last minute and strongarm everyone into agreeing to it
Night Court: Causes immediate insult to every other High Lord present at said meeting by insisting they bow to its Lady, because the Night Lord thinks she deserves it
Night Court: Immediately starts talking shit to the other lords about Spring, who has yet to arrive
Night Court: Immediately starts drama with Spring, once he does arrive. Uses magic to choke him quiet when he says things they don't like
Night Court: Refuse to admit responsibility for betraying and stealing from Summer, using their aid in the attack to deflect from it
Night Court: Dodges questions about murdered Winter children and deflects with a sob story when pressed. A former human woman must apologise on their behalf
Night Court: Violently attacks delegates from the Autumn Court not once, not twice, but three times over the course of the proceedings
Night Court: "So, who wants to be our allies?"
.........................
................and then six out of seven fucking hands go up.
PLEASE stop with the narrative that Lucien didn't do anything to help Feyre, that he "let" Tamlin do what he did to her, etc. etc. just because RHYSIE POO said so and says he can't forgive him for it. Rhys is a villain and a liar and an abuser who DRUGGED, SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, endangered, and PHYSICALLY HURT his. own. MATE. This is the dude whose narrative you're going to listen to???
Lucien did the best he could given the circumstances. He DID stand up for Feyre to Tamlin. It is implied that Tamlin even hurt him for doing so, which Feyre just giggles and kicks her feet at because she's glad he's getting hurt for her sake. Lucien almost died UTM because of her, and took a whipping from his own BEST FRIEND because he would not give Feyre's name up to Amarantha. Lucien doesn't *LET* Tamlin do anything, Tamlin is the High Lord. What he says, goes. Lucien can only push back so much. (Side note: Nobody cares that Cassian and Azriel are Rhysand's loyal dogs and never disobey him, but yeah, Lucien is awful for not stopping Tamlin.................)
But, SURE, keep on with the "he never did anything for her" bull. This fandom is so brainwashed by a dude with purple eyes that I'm convinced Rhys Stans are a literal cult. He can do no wrong, ever, and his word is the Absolute Truth, never to be questioned. Its terrifying to me that readers don't have the ability to think for themselves and just blindly believe two people who consistently lie and manipulate everyone around them because they're selfish and only care about what they desire.
Ugh. Sometimes I don't know why I even participate in this fandom.
My biggest gripe with Rhysand is how he actually physically and sexually assaulted Feyre UTM, but a good majority of the fandom are just ok with it because Rhys invented feminism in Prythian by making Feyre his High Lady and âequal.â
Except sheâs not really his equal at all, because if she was, she would stop him from threatening to kill her sister, bully her sister, and not have information about her own body kept from her.
And he would also actually get off his ass and fully enforce a complete and total ban of wing clipping of Illyrian females aka female genital mutilation instead of repeatedly saying âchange takes time.â
No tf it does not where wing clipping is concerned.
Tam if he were beauty and the beasting it for @tamlinweek day 2, cursed. Isnât he just.. revolting 𤢠those mouthparts⌠those chitinous plates⌠good luck finding a girlfriend loser - bugmarantha probably
u will recognize much of the design was inspired by @/ghostofadragon's acotar bug furries. yes hello remember that anon ask u got months ago asking if it'd be okay if I drew your guys? it was me⌠i am the secret furry
summary: you have long wondered with your husbandâs 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 (itâs 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 heâd 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.
âFor the way he acts it is a wonder.â
âMayhaps he is just nervous.â
âId wager heâd enjoy the idea of it.â
âBut how exactly did you?â 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 youâd so perfectly slotted into the family and how everyone, including the children adored you. For that he was thankful, truly, but it didnât stop the fact you drove him mad.
âShe is a new addition to the family, and she is fitting in quite well I should say.â Baelor countered as both men walked through the punctured halls of Maegorâs Holdfast.
âShe has taken over.â Maekar muttered with a roll of his yes , stalking slowly beside his brother.
âYour senses perhaps.â 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 Princeâs, 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.
âWhat I mean is, she does no harm. It has been a long time since they have all looked like this.â Baelor reasoned, picking at the stone underneath his palm as he eyed Maekar.
âAround you she may not.â The grumble came fast, quick to override his brotherâs 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 anyoneâs 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 wouldnât 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 ânonsensical whims.â
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 didnât 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, Maekarâs eyes barely left you.
His thoughts were, you.
ââ
The chamber was cool, years of aged stone encasing you more than youâd 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.
âIf only he wasnât so prickly.â
âCareful, he is our Prince after all.â
âIt is a miracle he has fathered children of his own at all, not near as pleasant as his brother.â Quickly followed by, âApologies my lady, we only wish to see you happy..â
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 husbandâs 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.
âI have run you a bath, should you require assistance, my lady?â
âThat will be all thank you Niamh, you are dismissed.â
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 youâd mapped out for some time, every corner and shortcut that was hidden beneath stone. Maekarâs 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 hadnât 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.
âHusband.â You greeted innocently.
âWho let you in?â Maekar spoke sharply, like the words were a bad taste on his tongue.
âYour kingsguard, very thoughtful of them.â 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.
âYou should be asleep,â 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, âin your own chambers.â
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.
âI have come to see you.â
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.
âWell now you have seen. Now leave.â
But you did not, you couldnât. He was far too close, and you had not yet begun.
You didnât answer to that, instead you had crawled toward him on the edge of the bed, a mere arms length away.
âI have missed you.â
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.
âWhat are you saying?â
âWell you hardly spend any time here.. with me.â You kicked your legs in front, swinging just beside his, close enough to knock together where yours didnât meet the length of his own.
âDo not pretend to be so stupid.â
âIt scares you.â 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.
âWhat?â 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.
âThe thought scares you.â 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.
âWhat thought woman? Speak.â Maekar snapped through the quiet, impatience clawing at his skin like a fire.
âSurrendering yourself.â
He almost laughed, almost, a short incredulous huff bubbling from his throat.
âIt is not my duty to surrender.â
âBut 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.â 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.
âDo not test me.â
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.
âIâam not testing you.â 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 instantâ
âPerhaps it is more than duty you require..â Your fingers continued at his collarbones, humming dreamily at the thought. âPerhaps it is want.â
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.
âThough if you do not wish for more, nor to consummate this marriage.. I wouldnât be offended. Perhaps you are scared.. and after having so many it would be more than enough for an old man toââ
That was enough. The pure breaking point heâd sure heâd lost a long time ago. All resolve had seemed to snap with a heavy punch in his gut.
You didnât 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.
âDo not anger me, girl.â
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.
âYou know well that is not it.â He gritted, glaring down at you with a gaze that made the pressure in your belly pinch hot.
âThen what is it.. mayhaps that you are olderââ
The fingers tightened at your throat as he leaned down, body rising over yours as more weight anchored you down.
âSeven hells no. Tell me what you want. Say it, tell me you want this as I do, before I change my fucking mind.â 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 couldnât even begin to name, but you had forgotten all else, raw need buzzing through your skin.
âWant you to put a babe in me husband.. want you to show me how well you fuck.â
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.
âGood girl.â
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.
âYou have driven me mad, wife.â 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 âvâ 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.
âOff.â 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.
âAll of this teasing.. and talk with your ladies who do not know fuck all.â
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.
âShe must be so needy for me for being desperate like some common whore...â 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 didnât let you finish, couldnât, 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.
âWhy the fuck did youââ 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.
âTake. It.â 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.
âYou want to know how hm?â 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.
âThis is what you wanted is it, to fuck you full..â 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.
âPerhaps this will shut you up.. spilling inside of this cunt.â
Your whines became babbles, a plea of âyes yes yesâ 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 couldnât 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.
âPlease..â You whined, your walls spasming wildly around him as your climax crashed over you.
âLet go for me, my girl..â 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.
âRest.â
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.
âAre you done with the nonsense now?â He mumbled, resting his head back onto the wooden headboard.
âMhm.. maybe.â You hummed, tracing the silver hairs at his chest.
âFor fucks sake..â
âI believe youâll have to do it again.â
There it was.
The mouth that drove him mad. His arm tightened around you, but he said nothing.
Though he didnât 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 wasnât to deny it again.
loving taglist: @targlocket (let me know if you want to be tagged for future reference, iâm accumulating a proper taglist) đ
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
