— 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮 is 𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷, it splits me open.
anaïs / ani .⋆♱ 🐈⬛ twenty-four <𝟑 .ᐟ
rules & guidelines. my masterlists
𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 an encounter: undo / xoxo
18+ ONLY ** minors do not interact
hi okay just read your little fic for what bobby's into and i had thoughts on one...
you said he likes being mean and condescending in bed, but how far would he take it? like if hes a little extra mean one night and his girl starts crying, does he take a step back or does he just like it even more?
content <𝟑 .ᐟ 18+, dacryphilia, overstim.
bobby would never, ever take it that far. it would be difficult for him even if it’s something you really wanted. it could be done, though.
because truly the most he wants out of you is a little pout, a tiny sniffle, or teary eyes that he can remedy within the following seconds with some more touches and kisses. sure, he runs his mouth enough for the two of you. he calls you messy and points out that you’re adorably pathetic when you’re needy and so, so dirty for him. but he immediately soothes the ache his words leave behind in your chest by making your back bow off of the bed and a pleasure drunk gasp expand your lungs, with a roll of his hips and one warm hand smoothing down your tummy.
however …
if and when you do end up with hot tears running down your cheeks, accompanied by stuttered breaths and hiccupy sounds falling from your lips— bobby’s whole face twists up. a mix of pain from seeing you in distress and pride because he brought you to this point with how good he can make you feel alone. it’s precious to him, it’s perfect, and it fucks with his heart.
he sighs, a calculated breath that’s all soft and reverent and too sure of himself for a guy that makes weed jokes and loses his keys every single day. he holds you close but whatever he’s doing that has you in hysterics doesn’t stop. whether he has you folded in half under him or one hand stuffed in your panties, he’s not stopping. not when you’re so pretty and absolutely gone.
his lips press against your warm cheek with kisses so sweet that they might as well be sugared, not minding the wetness as he makes his way to your pouty mouth.
“bet you’re all embarrassed now, huh?” he croons. he’s not mocking you, you can tell the difference. instead he’s gently asking. he’s showing that he cares, all while searching your eyes for any bit of true discomfort.
“there’s no need to be, i promise. i love making you feel good. you can be a crybaby for me anytime, pretty girl. especially like this.”
apologiesss for the inactivity i’ve been very busy and my mental health has not been the best this month </3 that being said, i will try to get something posted / answer an ask or two later.
On my hands and knees begging for any Bobby crumbs!! 😔🙏
especially like that changing room drabble bc IK he’s a whore with a mile long exhibitionism kink 🙂↕️ so what else is he into???
content <𝟑 .ᐟ 18+, complete filth.
what else is he into ???
for all intents and purposes, bobby is malleable.
he has his own preferences, of course. it’s just that mostly he’s into whatever you’re into … because he can’t believe he has you, and anything you do makes his dick hard and above everything, he loves pleasing you. he loves touching you and having his hands wherever they can reach, loves feeling your warmth and how real you are. especially if we’re talking about a universe where he survives the backrooms. he lets out slutty noises and sucks in breaths through his teeth even when he’s just feeling you up a bit on the couch.
like, you’re a little high and want to ride him until neither of you can see straight? he’s down. need him to stuff his face between your thighs after a long, annoying day? he’s right there, coaxing you to lay down on your tummy because you both enjoy it the most when he eats you out from the back. want to try out something specific? he’s already practicing how to work it into his dirty talk. it’s a perfect system, but it’s beyond perfect when his nastiness shines through.
he likes working for it.
** it makes his blood run hot in the best way when you don’t give in so easy. he gets to take his time making you melt with his voice and touches. he kisses at your skin, teeth grazing over the soft expanse of your throat just enough to make you gasp and place your hands on his chest as if he’ll really sink his teeth in he will. you’re still whining, still mumbling his name as a gentle warning while his fingers sink into the flesh above your hips. only to be met with filthy words drawled over your ear— “c’mon, let me make you feel good, sweet girl. doesn’t that sound nice? can bend you riiight over and make you forget why you’re second guessing it, wanna have you drooling on the counter like last time.” you shiver in his arms, and he knows he’s won you over.
he likes being a little mean.
** enough to make you sniffly. condescending praise and very sweet degradation. he teases you for being so needy. loves having you in his lap or tucked into him in bed, your back pressed to his front as he rubs you through your panties and purrs over your ear. “you’re so pathetic for being this worked up, baby— i wasn’t even gone for that long, only had one class.” he sighs, adding more pressure as he circles over your clit through the dampening cotton. your breath catches in your throat, your hips rut against his hand. he clicks his tongue with pity before pressing a kiss to the side of your face, feeling how hot your skin has become against him. “what the fuck am i gonna do with you?” it’s whispered, it makes you pout despite your building orgasm and the way you can feel your heartbeat between your thighs, “my needy girl.”
again, he likes doing things in places you shouldn’t.
** i.e the changing room drabble— beyond that, he’s fucked you into the carpet in the basement of the store a few times. clark blindly trusts you two to do inventory every few months … somehow it always becomes you with your shorts around your ankles and bobby’s hips rutting against the fullness of your ass while you claw at the carpeting. sometimes he films it, for your home video collection. he loves watching you lose yourself for him somewhere that isn’t the sanctuary of your apartment. “bobby, bobby— gonna get caught!” “shhh. relax, baby. you’re taking it so fuckin’ good already— don’t start whining now, not when you’re this close to making a mess for me.” it’s never enough. he’s fucked you on the beach, in an alley after getting jealous at the bar, and he’s tried the library many many times.
he likes making a mess of your pretty face.
** this isn’t one that he fights for a lot but god, when you do finally sink to your knees for him and settle yourself between his, he becomes the biggest head pusher. he’s praising you while you undo his belt and tug at it, “that’s my girl …” and the throaty groan he lets out, that borders on a growl, when you sink your mouth down on him makes your thighs squeeze together. he’s so good at guiding your movements, even when he’s babbling and gasping. “just like that, baby. y’look so pretty like this— with your mouth full of my— fuck,” his words die in his throat as your own works him, his hips lifting off of the couch while a tear falls from your lashes and adds to the growing mess on your face. he has to yank you back up for air before you push yourself too hard, and both of you stare at each other with heaving chests for fleeting moment. before he grabs your jaw in his shaky hand and leans down to kiss your spit slick, used up mouth. he’s so in love with his sweet, equally perverted ‘n nasty girlfriend.
bobby i love u kingie and aerion is not some saint either but what bobby did was so nastyyy i need aerion to show him how to man up lol 😭
aerion is not a saint at all, yes … but he stays and that’s all you need for a bit after what bobby does </3 that being said, he will piss you off in his own special ways. don’t you worry, his time is coming …
hii im so addicted to ur an encounter au and i just gotta ask, do u think this version of aerion would be the type to offer a casual rs to reader (like what she had w/ bobby) or the type to not take things in halves—meaning he will quite literally not settle for meaningless “situationship” and would be possessive and protective of her like a dragon of its hoard
much like your relationship with bobby, it’s meaningless until it isn’t.
because aerion is only obsessed with the idea of toying with you, and proving that he’s superior to bobby amidst the talk about them being nearly identical going around. that’s why he cornered you in the library. the easiest and most basic way to prove himself is getting close to someone that’s close to bobby, right? it’s fast and he doesn’t have to implement more advanced tactics just yet.
he has zero intentions of being with you, he’s more like a cat who’s playing with a mouse as opposed to going in for the kill.
he doesn’t know you’re falling apart until you mention it one day— days after it happened— when you bark at him because he won’t stop pushing you, and all of the pieces kind of come together as he looks over your features. the lack of light in your eyes, the swell of your cheeks from crying, and this isn’t a visual aspect but he does notice the way you refrain from bringing up bobby in any context.
aerion is not a placeholder, and he’s definitely not in the business of mending anyone’s broken heart.
but your grades are slipping, you haven’t seen your friends in too long because you don’t want to answer their questions, and you lost the one person who was in your corner.
although he doesn’t say it, he knows what that’s like. he’s not as put together as he seems and you do pick up on it every time he loses his temper or something miserable and harsh drips off of his tongue. he’s lost plenty of people, whether it was from his own doing or theirs. his family has even shut him out at times. so he pays closer attention to you, and it leads to him falling because of course it does.
he’d also never say that he’s protective or possessive over you. he’s still clinging to the notion that he doesn’t want you around, that he’s only helping you because it’ll drive bobby insane and that maybe (just maybe) he feels bad for you. he’s thoroughly irritated that it’s grown so far beyond proving a point to his doppelgänger … but then he’s laying in bed at night and your giggle is playing on loop in his head, and he hears the way you say his name when you’re annoyed with him or want him to go away next, and he wonders if you’d sigh in the same manner you do when you’re tired if he leaned in and kissed you.
suddenly nothing about you is a game to aerion.
something twists in his stomach when he remembers that bobby has kissed you. many, many times. in different ways. he realizes that you’re fully for the taking now, and maybe he should take advantage of that.
I have a feeling Bobby will 100% freak out if/when he sees reader out with aerion... I'm obsessed with ur crossover series I'm soooo excited for the next part!!
100% will be writing more about how this plays out and the intricacies of it all in the next part but i’m using this as an excuse to share some thoughts … thank you vvv much for the support <3
🗒️ an encounter — series masterlist / moodboard
bobby is sick to his stomach. genuinely. he doesn’t know how much longer he can watch aerion trail after you, like one half of him is your personal body guard and the other half is a lost pet. he’s had his fair share of freak outs … mostly to himself when he’s already smoked far too much and you’re still the only thing on his mind.
he knows he fucked up, he knows the universe is punishing him with the worst kind of irony because the man he now considers his rival managed to sweep you off your feet a few weeks after you found out about his little secret. he hears things from friends, comments about you being spoiled rotten now that the campus prince is yearning for you— aerion bought you this, aerion took you there, aerion did that. he’s shocked you haven’t tagged along for a targaryen family vacation yet (which is a very bitter joke he makes to a friend, by the way).
what bobby doesn’t know is that you’ve been so terribly sad.
he has some idea, you’re sure ... but he has no clue that aerion is there to wipe your tears away late at night once you finally allow yourself to break in front of him after too many glasses of wine, or that he holds you to his chest because you just don’t understand no matter how hard you try and having a pair of arms around you makes it all better.
it’s awkward at first. he’s never comforted anyone before, only his siblings a few times when they were younger and scraped a knee or something stupid happened. even that was short and dismissive.
for bobby, comforting you was always second nature. he stripped away the trust and took that privilege away from both of you.
it’s okay, you suppose. you’re growing quite fond of the way aerion calls you dove. accompanied by the feeling of his knuckles trailing over your soft cheek, like he’s scared you’ll burn if he moves too fast.
content <𝟑 .ᐟ 18+, toxic + needy!aerion & f!reader, choking / breath play, mention of m. masturbation, 1 pussy pronoun.
aerion is frustrating to deal with even when he’s on best behavior. gods help you, you love him— you love him so much, but he’s mean to you.
he’s terrible, he’s venomous. sometimes he wakes up mad at the world and everything it has yet to offer him. he decides you’re the best person to take it out on. you’re sweet and pliant and perfect for his wrath whether it’s making snippy, borderline harsh comments or pounding you into the mattress until you’re drooling. you’re not sure how exactly he picks which way he wants to control his madness. you’ve tried to memorize any kind of pattern but they eventually dissolve when he makes a move you couldn’t manage to predict.
you’ve had enough.
“what— what the fuck are you doing?” he snarls down at you.
the rhythm in his hips falters, coming to a messy grind as his eyes flutter shut because you’ve lifted a hand, and your delicate fingers have curled around his throat with a firm grip. a hold that mimics his own whenever he grabs you up and forces you to make proper eye contact with him. “c’mon, knock it off.”
he tries to claw it away with his own digits wrapping over your wrist, blunt nails digging into your skin as a warning before he uses his actual strength. but you shake your head against the pillow you’re resting on, swallowing down a whine when he ruts into you just right and nearly folds you in half under him from the force of it. you regroup and ignore the way your cunt flutters around him beyond your control. you use your grip to yank him down until his lips hover over yours, watching his hazy eyes go wide with shock at your daring display.
“apologize to me,” you huff out, a soft sound falling from your lips after. you squeeze his throat and he gasps like he’s losing himself already, his hips surge forward with need and you watch his eyes roll back for a split second through your own half lidded gaze. you purr your words out, pride swelling in your chest, “apologize for being so rotten to me this morning, aerion.”
“baby,” he whimpers pathetically, breathlessly— shivering under your touch. his own hands glide over your soft skin. he’s holding your waist with reverence, then your hips, before his fingers finally sink into your thighs and guide you into that position he knows liquifies your brain in your skull, “you know i didn’t mean it. i never do, pretty girl.”
“then apologize, or i’ll make sure the only thing that’s getting you off for the next month is your own hand.”
aerion’s breath gets caught up in his throat at that, pulse fluttering against your fingers and his adam’s apple bobbing under your palm. he no longer cares that you have him right where you want him. not even a little bit. his pace picks back up, knocking sounds out of your chest and his own with every movement. every time he sinks into you and finds that heavenly little spot hidden in your cunt, he has your thighs twitching against either side of his waist.
he’s not good at talking, he’s not good at being nice …
but he is good at this. he’s good at fucking you senseless and making you melt under him, and he wants to keep doing it. he needs you wrapped around him one way or another and clinging to him every single day, or he won’t feel complete.
“‘m so sorry, baby.” he moans his words. he licks his lips, then shakes his head once as if he’s trying to think straight and navigate through the molten pleasure that settles in his taut muscles. he presses his heated forehead to yours, a desperate gesture that’s dewy with sweat, “so fuckin’ sorry. i’m gonna make it up to you and your sweet pussy, i promise— just don’t take her away from me.”
robert franklin, aerion targaryen, & f!reader
🗒️ series masterlist / moodboard
-> aerion makes his presence more known, along with his developing interest in you— mere hours before you find out the reason for bobby's very sudden absence in your life.
The library is creating its own symphony as usual. With the subtle buzz of fluorescent lighting, the sound of pencil on paper and typing, pages being flipped through. It’s at the heart of one of the newer buildings, full of sprawling hallways that feel too bright and empty, reeking of cheap antibacterial you can buy by the gallon and thousands of books full of yellowed paper hidden between beaten hard or soft covers. All while your rough draft sits in front of you. It mocks you as it lays on top of the smooth desk, covered in lead and eraser marks that have eaten away at the paper.
You rub your face. Your fingers swipe under your eyes, like you believe you can physically remove the exhaustion off of your features and toss it into the bin along with your mess of crumpled sticky notes.
You’ve written the same line over and over. You’ve used a different syntax each time, playing with the phrasing and putting your all into one odd sentence that anyone would most likely overlook and leave in. This is burnout, you realize. This is a mix of no rest, high anxiety, and cheap dining hall coffee that could very well send you into cardiac arrest if it goes on for another two days.
Days. You also realize haven’t seen Bobby in days.
You’re aware that he’s just as frustrated as you are lately, you know he’s slowly but surely cracking under academic pressure like you. Filming sessions for his projects that run late, hours of editing, make-or-break exams. There hasn’t been much time for party hopping or getting high at his place until you can’t keep your hands off of one another … but not even a check-in? He hasn’t bothered to see where you’ve been, let alone how you are. He hasn’t offered to bring you more caffeine or give up a few minutes of his company so you have someone to lean into while you write away. Nothing.
It’s unlike him—
But footsteps approach, a shadow looms over the table you’ve taken over. You’re so sure it’s Bobby until that cold, cunning accent meets your ears instead of his smooth and relaxed drawl.
“You look like you’re going to kill someone.”
You purse your lips. You’re visibly weighing your options, you’re trying to decide if engaging with Aerion when you’re already having an ugly day is the smartest decision. He seems to notice your trepidation and clearly takes offense to it, if you’re reading the furrow in his brow correctly. You sigh, then you turn to face him fully and swing your arm over the back of your chair as you peer up at him through your lashes.
He looks exactly how a professor’s son with old money would. Expensive shoes, slacks, a black sweater that may very well be around as much money as your monthly expenses combined. The light reflects off of a silver chain that dips below his dark knitwear.
The way he immediately meets your eyes almost makes you flinch.
“Most likely myself,” you breathe out. Your gaze travels over his features and your own brows pinch together at his calculating silence … and the suggestion of a grin that he seems to swallow down before it can grow, but you still catch it.
“Did you need something?”
“No.”
He seems like he can’t be bothered, and it takes everything in you to not remind him that he was the one who kickstarted this unnecessary interaction. His lips part once more, and you follow the motion. They move gracefully as he speaks, “Well, actually— my cousin says you’re with that boy everyone has been going on about ... which is rather intriguing considering you ran into me the other day.”
“Bobby and I aren’t—” You stop yourself, because why does it matter? Why does Aerion of all people need to know the specifics of your current entanglement? You shake your head, “I didn’t run into you. You were … you were in my way.”
“I’m not wasting my breath arguing over your clumsiness of all things,” Aerion more or less snarls, sneering down at you but leaning closer to examine you all in the same breath. One hand moves to rest on the desk, while the other holds the back of your chair. His knuckles strain as his grip tightens and he threatens to crowd your space, “Bobby— I don’t really care what he is to you, all I know is that our resemblance has become quite a nuisance for me.”
“I didn’t think the chatter would be on your radar if I’m being honest.” You murmur, unable to pull your gaze away from him.
“It’s quite difficult to ignore.”
He sounds bored again.
“Yeah,” you agree softly, but Aerion isn’t fooled. There’s a gleam in your eye and the next string of words out of your mouth is, “I’m sure it’s very hard with an ego like yours.”
At that, Aerion studies you. He pulls back just enough to fully clock the mirth hidden below your fatigue. His gaze takes in the tired pout of your lips, only to flicker back up to your eyes in a split second. You can’t decide if he’s checking you out or if he’s trying to come across as intimidating, but you truthfully don’t care all that much.
“You’re enjoying this,” he concludes, voice low and not as mean as you’re expecting.
“I can promise you that I’m not,” you sigh, turning back to your work despite him looming over you. Enough is enough. You have something worth more than you’re fuck-buddy becoming a hindrance in the campus nepo baby’s life to worry about. You huff with subdued annoyance that Aerion cannot believe he finds charming, “You’re distracting me from my writing.”
Aerion reaches over you, and you turn your head to look at him once more. The curve of his jaw, the perpetual tension in his face, the storm that’s brewing in his eyes even in mundane moments. He’s insane, you fear. However he takes in the mess of words you’ve created. He picks up your pencil, his cologne invading your senses and making you sigh quietly to yourself. It’s spicy— a mix of leather and cloves and cardamom. He taps the pencil over a line, then he erases, and then he scribbles in his own perfectly practiced handwriting.
The crucial sentence flows into its surroundings now. It’s no longer clunky or awkwardly placed out of necessity. All it took was a pair of fresh eyes that aren’t burning from being open for so long, and the mind of someone that you haven’t quite formed an opinion on yet.
He mutters one last vague insult that blurs the lines between teasing and hurtful before removing himself from your impromptu work station entirely, “Hm … You’ll at least get a passing grade now, I hope.”
Then he’s walking in the direction he came from, his hands in his pockets and his stride purposeful— you hate him, and the way you can still smell his cologne for the rest of your cursed time in the library.
You're buzzing when you finish your work.
It's a short walk to Bobby's apartment, one that you’ve taken many times. Showing up announced is nothing new. If Bobby doesn’t want to reach out, then you’ll do what you’ve always done. Appear and annoy him a little until he gives you that grin that makes your heart flutter in your chest. Because you just have to see him. You have to tell him everything. You’ll start with how elated you are over wrapping up your draft and end with each detail about Aerion cornering you in the library.
Maybe he’ll be jealous, maybe he’ll pin you down and nestle himself between your thighs and you can put a label on whatever this little game you two have been playing is. Your nervous habits bubble to the surface as you wait for him to get to the door. You adjust your bag on your shoulder, you pull your jacket around your self a bit tighter.
And when it opens, the first person you see isn’t Bobby.
No— It’s Kathrine Taylor, and she’s as irritatingly beautiful as ever.
You notice when Bobby does come to the door, her hand reaches for his forearm. She’s clinging to him in a way that tells you a lot has happened within the last five days, and you’re just there. You’re on the outside, looking in on something that you mistakenly thought was yours after months of unspoken devotion, with wide eyes and parted lips. You hear him say your name except it doesn’t feel real. Not at all.
His eyes are wide as if the absurdity of the moment is shocking him also. He doesn’t know what his grand plan was aside from being selfish, really. But none of it seems worth it now as he watches the gears turn in your head and sees your already tired features melt with melancholy.
You’re sure you’re delirious after the day you’ve had, but you realize Kat is perfect for Bobby now that you’re looking directly at them. They have similar majors, they have mutual friends, they hang out in the same spots around campus. And now she’s in his space. You're sure she's been sitting on his bed, the spot where you review your notes together and study … amongst many other things. She’s always been around, and maybe he was too caught up dealing with you to take the time to consider her.
The thought makes your heart sink. All it took was a week— less than a week— apart to see that there’s better out there, and that it’s been right in front of him for weeks. You press your face into your scarf. You’re shrinking in on yourself and Bobby is watching. Watching and unable to say something because his throat won’t stop constricting.
He notes how your usually playful eyes go sullen as it dawns on you.
You force yourself to speak.
“I was just seeing if you’re alive. That’s all.”
You don’t have the right to be angry, you know that better than anyone. Not when he never belonged to you fully. Yet the bitterness on your tongue and the fury that blooms within you doesn’t want to listen to reason. All of your late nights and mornings together feel like nothing but borrowed time and stolen moments you’ll never get back. You know that he knows. He knows that you had a promise beyond words, and now it’s torn to shreds, leaving behind the very seams that were holding it together.
Robert Franklin became the worst man you know within a matter of two minutes, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“You told me you two weren’t dating.”
Kat is the first to speak after you leave.
“We’re not—” Bobby says quickly. It’s clipped but oddly quiet.
“Then you should tell her to stop acting like she’s your girlfriend if you want to keep having your fun.”
She’s not saying it to be rude. It’s more of an observation about your dynamic that he doesn’t quite appreciate regardless of how true it may be. Yet he doesn’t utter something in your defense or his, and he doesn’t shake her off of his arm because her touch suddenly feels strange either. There’s anxiety coursing through his veins, it keeps him stuck in one spot and nauseates him for more than just a fleeting moment.
He pales— he doesn’t expect her to understand how bad he’s just fucked up. He can’t explain that even if you’re not together, it’s been you and him for months. Since the day you two met at orientation, completely lost and wandering around the school because you both decided to stray away from your original group.
Boundaries are a tricky thing. You both should have set more for yourselves, but he doesn’t regret a single moment of it even if it’s amounted to this nightmare he's constructed. Not one touch, not one kiss, not one sleepy whisper. And he doesn’t know that someone already has their eyes on you. He doesn’t know that someone has already started to lay the groundwork at the right place and time.
He simply stands there, blissfully unaware that the man he’s been so thoroughly annoyed by already has his claws sinking in to you. He lets out a stuttering breath while you walk away with an air of indifference that he’s not used to seeing or feeling—
robb stark adores his wife so much that it terrifies him.
truthfully it was not a union built on love. it was about alliance, power and everything in between if the gods were pleased enough. robb studied you as any smart, dutiful husband would. regardless of personal feelings and the lack of affection in the beginning of your marriage, your comfort was his priority. so he watched— and watched.
he found himself noticing things. memorizing them, even.
the crinkle of your nose when you’re displeased with someone’s presence, the way your eyes widen the moment you’re the smallest bit shocked or confused, the reach you make for his hand when you’re walking alone in the halls. except your fingers never grab onto his, they only brush together. a minuscule touch, a hint of a promise. it makes his heart rate pickup more than he ever knew was possible, and suddenly it all comes together. it’s no longer about obligation or courtly responsibilities. it’s festering into something so pure and innocent that he’s not sure if he deserves it. it’s warm as it blooms in his chest, as he watches you smooth your hands over your gown with grace.
robb feels blessed when it amounts to you being under him, just like he knew he would. it’s not for the sake of an heir. it has never been about that. his hands tremble. he can taste you and your kisses on his tongue— you’re sweet like freshly harvested honey. and you’re clawing at him, gasping and sinking into the furs and fabrics keeping your now shared bed warm as he presses into you with purpose like he has dreamt about night after freezing night.
he chokes on a sound that tears through his throat like a claw. it harmonizes with your own whimpers. his eyes are half lidded, his gaze is reverent as his hands glide over your soft skin. he feels you struggling to take him. one palm settles on your lower stomach while the other presses into the back of your thigh, making you gasp at the new angle. your cunt flutters over every inch of his cock, each vein that’s buried in your silky heat. it’s where he’s always belonged. he could’ve savored you this entire time instead of being too afraid to take what’s his by right, he realizes. at that, he curls over you.
“my sweet, sweet lady wife.”
he breathes into your open mouth, his arms slipping underneath your back so suddenly, forcing you to arch up into him with a moan falling from your lips that he swallows up. just so he can press you against his chest and keep you safe beneath him while he has all of you at last.
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