husband!toji headcanons and his wifey! ꒰꧞ ˃ 𛱊 ˂ ꒱ྀི
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji is not verbally affectionate. you are not getting long speeches about love or feelings from this man. what you are getting is him fixing the loose door hinge you complained about once three months ago and pretending he didn’t notice it bothered you.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji sleeps like a rock but somehow always wakes up the second you leave the bed. doesn’t open his eyes. just pulls you back by the wrist and grumbles something like “where’re you going.”
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji absolutely pretends he doesn’t care about domestic stuff. meanwhile he knows exactly which mug is yours and will glare if someone else uses it whenever people come over for a little bit.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji is the type who will say things like “don’t start getting soft on me.”while literally bringing you food because you forgot to eat.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji does that quiet staring thing. not creepy, just observant. you’ll look up and he’s already watching you with that half-lidded expression like he’s studying you.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji doesn’t like crowded places, but if you enjoy them he’ll tolerate it. stands behind you like a giant wall of muscle while you do whatever you came there for.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji is surprisingly good at cooking very simple food. nothing fancy. grilled meat, rice, noodles. the kind of meals that are quick and filling.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji is not big on pda, but if someone is making you uncomfortable he will immediately step in. suddenly there’s a massive guy beside you with a scar on his lip staring the other person down as the person speaks to you is clearly intimidated by him (╥﹏╥)
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji sometimes you’ll catch him watching you with megumi when megumi was younger and there’s this brief, quiet softness on his face. the moment he notices you saw it he goes right back to looking bored.
୨ ⸝⸝ 𖥻 husband!toji absolutely steals your blanket. every single night. no shame. doesn’t matter if you’re freezing your ass off, he’ll make you BEG for the blanket back… and then he’ll cuddle you if you beg perfectly for him.
haiaiaiai this is my first post :33 i hope you liked it!!!! >.<
⋆𖦹⋆ˎˊ˗ nanami fucking you after a long day with the kids!
between 7am drop offs and battles at bedtime, it seemed the blonde girl dad could never catch a break.
done up in his finest dress shirt, hair parted, nanami takes your little girl to school whilst sporting her glittery pink my little pony backpack on his shoulder. the bag barely fits on his forearm, corded muscle threatening to pop the seams, yet he rocks it like a champ.
your daughter skips, clicking her heels to see her new light up sneakers blink blink blink bright pink. it's a look you adore, heart swelling with pride and contentment every time you see it.
it's barely 7:00, yet you'd never be able to tell on his face. you can't see it on your daughter's, either, chubby cheeks smiling clumsy and wide.
mornings are your favorite part of the shared daily routine your little family has settled into. wake up, get cleaned up, head to school by 6:45, work, come back home, dinner and bedtime.
monotonous, sure, but you wouldn't trade that familiarity for the world.
today, your routine has been broken; baby yuji has a baseball game nearly an hour away. suffering in silence, your husband agrees to drive, ignoring that his joints are killing him.
of course, the little pink haired demon toddler scores the winning shot for his team. it's amazing to see your nephew smiling, jumping for joy, but the ache in nanami's back is becoming apparent.
he's not the man he once was; standing for god knows how many hours always ends up in back pain and migraines. chiseled jaw tightening, you can tell it's beginning to get the best of him.
"just a few more hours until bedtime," you remind, placing a hand on his shoulder. his hand meets yours, resting on top of it before giving it a tender kiss, matching wedding bands glinting in the sun.
"YUCK!" your daughters squeals. her and yuji make disgusted faces while they giggle, covering their chubby faces.
thy don't laugh much longer when it's time to get strapped into their car seats, preparing for a long car ride home.
finally, 7pm comes. by god's grace, your beloved baby sitter accepts to take the kids for an overnight stay. for 24 hours, it's just you and nanami.
completely alone. no responsibilities. not even an alarm to wake up to.
surprisingly, nanami cracks first.
"been waiting to taste you for weeks," he groans, lips already kiss bitten from an earlier makeout session.
it marks the fourth time in 12 hours he's run his lips against yours, temptation overwhelming as you embrace him.
the moomoo you were wearing, short and stained, has long since been discarded onto the floor. in nothing but underwear, you shiver against the sheets.
he takes notice immediately, moving to wrap his arms around you, body heat radiating into your core.
somehow, his clothes are still on, tie barely hanging ground his neck. you make quick work of them, nearly ripping the fabric straight from his body.
it doesn't take long for you to be entangled in the sheets, skin to skin, nanami's leaking head prodding at your entrance.
"please, let me inside." he groans it against the shell of your ear, hips shifting as he slides his length up and down your coated folds.
"put it in, kento," you murmur.
a sharp gasp leaves you. no matter how many times he fucks you, the initial stretch will always have you clenching. slowly, he rolls his hips, nestling his cock further inside.
he notices how your brow furrows, how your toes clench, even feels the slight twitch of your thighs. immediately, his thumb gets to rubbing your clit, easing the ache out. it doesn't hurt, never did (well, except for the first time, maybe) but it feels so good how attentive he is.
finally, he's seated fully inside you.
"mmm," you moan, already needy. it's been god knows how long since you got to fuck your husband, especially properly. occasional phone sex can't cut it anyore.
bracing himself, his arm cages you in, the other one tweaking your pert nipple. like always, his forehead goes to rest against yours, sweat glistening against it.
the drag of his cock inside of you is tantalizing, makes you moan into his mouth as loud as you want. "i've missed you so much, ken," you whimper, lips wobbling with need.
"me too, baby, me too." he kisses you firmly, open mouthed, sloppy and disheveled, yet it couldn't be more passionate. his pace quickens slightly, low slapping beginning to fill the room.
"oooh, just like that-fuck!" his eyes widen, trying to drink up your very being as he watches yours roll up. the dark blonde hair of his groin grinds into you, stimulates your clit without him having to try.
slutty moans, slapping and the most erotic of sounds fill the bedroom, bouncing off the walls. he loves how you move your legs up, spreading them wide so they bounce every time he thrusts up.
"yes!- god, fuck," he groans, no longer having to care that a curse escaped his lips. "you like being dirty for me, don't you?"
"mhm, mhmmm, yes ken!" his hand moves from your nipple to your face, cradling it up to meet his lips, face bent down.
too much blood is rushing to his cock, to his cheeks, to anywhere but his brain so he can think properly. his mind is filled with you, you, you.
gaze darkening, his whole aura shifts.
suddenly your legs are being hiked up even further, knees almost to your ears while he manhandles you. again, his hand moves, now tangling in your pretty hair, flat against the pillow. now you're looking straight forward, eyes focused on where his cock enters your soaking pussy.
his thrusts turn downright mean, harsh and unforgiving. he groans, voice cracking a little when you moan so loud the noise echoes.
"shiiit, darling." his baritone goes straight through your core, hitting so deep it might as well be a vibrator. the bed starts creaking, something it hasn't done since your daughter's been born. it shakes the foundations, floor threatening to break from the intense love being made on it.
he ignores how badly his back aches, how his knees are screaming to take a break. when his pretty darling is moaning so loud, creaming around his dick, why would he stop?
"k-ken, 'm gonna-" "i know you are. let it all out for me, okay?"
nanami almost screams when your orgasm tears through you, so strong it feels like he's the one coming. your vision goes white, as well as his, so overcome with pleasure it should be impossible.
also white is his cum, filling up your pulsing hole with ease. weeks of desperation show in the pumping, twitching release he gives you.
he falls onto the bed, golden tresses managing to frame his face perfectly. god, he always looks perfect.
your heart is still hammering in your chest, breath uneven, but you're beginning to come back to your senses.
"wow. you look tired," you tease. he rolls his eyes, turning his face away from you. the snort that escapes him isn't lost on you.
"fuck, we shouldn't have done that," you choke. slowly, you can feel the burn settling into your knees.
"but it was worth it, wasn't it? don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."
"you know i did."
sighing, he pulls you closer, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head.
"yes, i do. i'm sure the whole neighborhood does, too."
"i heard that, kento."
for now, it was you and the love of your life, wrapped together like thread, enjoying each others company.
soon, you would have to pick up your daughter and nephew. your chest was already aching a little at the thought of being away from them for so long. surely, your husband was too, muttering something about it right before he drifted off.
in a few hours, you'd be picking up your daughter, and maybe stopping by at the gas station beforehand. if you purchase a pregnancy test while there, so what?
and so what if it shows up positive, marking another baby on the way? you wouldn't have it any other way, and neither would nanami.
"always wanted to try for another girl," he mutters, green irises staring at the 2 bold, pink lines of the test.
masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred
a/n: my dadaman! but literally cuz he's a father. how do yall feel about the pregnancy ending? thought it would be a nice cherry on top.
fern i need you to write the most nastiest smut for daddy baelor like toe curling, sweat inducing, cum loading smut i need to ride him like a dragon
toe curling… sweat inducing… cum loading…
Ride Your Dragon
Baelor Targaryen x wife!reader
✿ after your husband dismisses your words of comfort, he works hard to win back your favour the best way he knows how (or, you ride your dragon to feel better).
✿ 18+
✿ wc: 3.6k
✿ cw: fem!reader, no y/n and reader is undefined but hot (you), baelor is obsessed with you, SMUT, not a lot of plot i'm gonna keep it real guys, unprotected piv, riding, praise, strong language, the softness and desperation we all need from a man like him (so not super duper nasty i'm sorry 😔)
The golden light of the sinking sun illuminates your path through the Red Keep as you hurry through the vast network of halls, your heavy skirts whipping against your ankles as you move. Servants stop when they see you, bowing their heads or casting their eyes downwards in respect, and ever the dutiful princess, you respond with the same kind smile that has earned you quite the positive reputation across the kingdoms.
A kind, amiable consort to match the justness and integrity of the great Baelor Targaryen. A gentle hand beside him to lessen the load, to calm him of his day’s struggles and guide him tenderly through the reddened corridors of the royal residence. Whispers whirl of how your smile can subdue any man, really––lesser lords notice the relief that seems to wash off of Maekar when you enter any room, and the ladies-in-waiting spot how tension leaves the faces of Valarr and Matarys when you place your hands upon their shoulders in comfort.
Some say it is magic. Some say you are an enchantress, primed with the ancient knowledge of some kind of dark ritual that enables you to calm even the most tempestuous of storms (these rumours began when you calmed the raging Aerion one night, several moons ago, and he, to everyone’s utter shock, listened and obeyed).
But it is not magic.
Nor are you always successful.
You continue briskly down the warmly lit hallway, head level and eyes fixated onto the opening space in front of you. You can hear equally hurried footsteps behind you, and you huff to yourself, making it to your favourite wing of the castle and throwing open the door to your chambers. You slam it shut behind you and it seems the bones of the castle rattle with the force, the heavy wood appearing to rock on its hinges. With an exasperated sigh, and in a considerably unladylike manner, you fling yourself down onto the furs of your bed.
There is a gentle knock on your door.
“No,” you respond simply.
“I have yet to speak a word,” the voice of your husband travels quietly through the thick wood. Despite these being his chambers too, he did not open the door. Instead, when greeted with your silence, he continues with a gentle, “My love?”
“Leave me be,” you say loudly, lifting your faces out of the plush furs.
“I do not wish to,” Baelor replies quickly. “May I enter?”
He asks for permission to enter his own chambers. The chivalry of it all makes you sigh as you roll onto your back, picking yourself up to sit on the very edge. You let him wait for a few long moments, watching sunlight dance through the large, reticulated windows adjacent to your bed.
“My love,” he says again, somehow even more gentle than before. His tone has something twisting bitterly inside your stomach, something tasting of guilt when it rises like bile into your mouth. You shake away the feeling, pressing the tip of your tongue to the backs of your teeth as you withhold a pout. Baelor continues, “I will leave if you––”
“You may enter,” you say quickly before you regret it. Not that you ever would.
The door creaks open slowly and your husband enters your shared chambers. He closes the door softly behind him before he remains adjacent to it, mismatched eyes finding yours across the room, a deep crease in his brow. There’s something heavy there, in the way he holds your gaze, his own guilt manifesting itself in the space between you like some kind of spectre. You yearn to bat it away and make him feel right again.
He takes one step closer. “I did not mean to speak to you in such a way.”
His curt words from earlier echo around your skull as if he were shouting them at you right at that moment. Frustrated and tired, Baelor had dismissed you tersely from his solar when you attempted to peel the stress from his body with your kind words. Paired with a flick of his hand through the air in obvious dismission, his words cut through you like a knife––and he knew it. You were offering him such sweet words, such (usually) welcomed comfort and support, and he had all but cleaved your heart in half for it. A short moment after the words had been said, he looked up in surprise––surprise and shock at himself––as you withdrew from him, hands leaving his shoulders and warmth vanishing, extinguished like a candle. You had backed away and then fled the room, leaving Baelor to fumble over the papers before him, inkwell toppling over and splashing ink across the parchment as he moved quickly to get up from his desk.
You notice the ink stains on a couple of his fingers, black smudged into the crevices of his skin. His face appears calm, but he fidgets with a large silver ring on his ring finger.
“Yet you did,” you mutter in reply, crossing your arms over your body. “You spoke to me as if I was little more than… than a servant.”
You pause, then scoff out: “Actually, you are always so courteous to our servants, so I believe you spoke to me with even less courtesy. Perhaps you would speak to a hound like that, or perhaps a Blackfyre––”
Baelor huffs loudly, but he wasn’t angry. “Do not pain me, my love.”
You raise a brow in his direction.
“I apologise for the way I spoke to you. It was unbecoming and unjust of me, and I stand here before you, as your husband, to ask for your forgiveness,” Baelor says carefully, taking another couple of steps towards you. He stops, just out of arms reach. “From sunrise to evenfall I have been continuously called upon, but I know that does not excuse the insolence of my actions.”
“No,” you whisper. “It does not.”
“Please, my love.” Baelor steps forward once more and brings a large hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek and touching his thumb to your cheekbone. “I am deeply sorry. May you forgive me?”
You notice the glassiness of his mismatched eyes and immediately melt beneath his gaze, a surge of remorse flowing through you as his other hand finds the other side of your face, cradling you. His eyes scan over you and you let your frown slip away.
“You are forgiven,” you begin.
Baelor smiles, the lines around his tired eyes deepening. “Thank––”
“On one condition.”
Baelor cuts himself short, slowly closing his mouth. You smile innocently at him as he continues to cup your face in his warm hands. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and you feel butterflies in your stomach as if you were some simple maiden.
“Anything,” he whispers against you.
You take a step back (which requires considerable strength considering the warmth and gentleness and familiarity of his hands on your face). His arms drop to his sides and he peers at you curiously. You point at the bed behind you.
“No more work for the rest of the evening,” you say. “And you’re going to get on that bed and not move unless I tell you to.”
Baelor opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Not wanting to spurn anymore wrath from his wife, he keeps eye contact while he discards himself of his royal wear, his tunic falling away to reveal the strong expanse of his chest. Silently, you turn and he understands immediately––your clever, observant prince––and makes slow, careful work of the intricate knots on the rear of your dress.
You feel him against you. So warm and solid, his hands skim the heavy fabric as he unravels the backing with deft fingers. His breath fans over your shoulder too, which you can feel when it bares to him, the sleeve of your dress slipping down as he works. Warm lips press to warm skin. Over and over, Baelor takes the time to trail tender kisses along the shoulder, over the junction of your neck and up the side of your throat. He peels your dress down past your waist as he kisses the pulsepoint right below your ear, and you are aware that it is practically jumping out of your skin to meet him.
You lean your head back against his shoulder, your skirts hitting the solid ground with a resounding thump as his hands find the soft linen of your shift, clutching your waist.
His nose bumps the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Then, his hands move, and you sigh out wistfully as his hands cover your breasts, palms burning-hot even above the thin material. He kneads you there as he sucks the skin at the curve of your neck, humming quietly to himself. You reach a hand behind you to loop into the band of his trousers, pulling him closer, feeling the imprint of him against your backside. You arch into the feeling and his quiet hum turns into a low groan.
You step forward and bring him with you with your finger hooked into his trousers still. He followers willingly, hands reaching for you as you spin out of his grasp, laughing. You stop at the edge of the bed.
Baelor quickly makes work of his trousers, and you can’t help but giggle at the desperation he shows in rucking them down his legs and then ridding himself of his breeches like a lovesick lord. You bite your lip as his already hard cock bobs out, and you have a moment where you wish to reach forward and grasp it (but you realise that would likely end up with you on all fours on the ground––good in any other situation but this).
You nod to the bed.
“So demanding,” he chuckles warmly, clambering onto the bed before turning to rest against the multitude of pillows at the top. He puts one arm beneath his head, smiling over at you as you slowly begin to remove your shift.
He watches you as if he’s being rewarded, free hand wrapped around the base of his cock. The head is ruddy with blood already, precum pearling at the slit as his eyes darken.
Your shift finally, finally––taking too fucking long, Baelor thought––hits the floor, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. Golden sunshine illuminates your body in such a way that Baelor’s mouth drops open: you were a vision from the gods themselves.
“Seven above…” He mutters, fisting his cock. The pearl of precum drops and rolls alongside a dark vein prominent on the underside.
You crawl towards him, breasts on full display as you settle up between his legs, and you hear his breath quicken, see the paced rise and fall of his chest. You make a point of swooping in low as you slink over his abdomen, the flushed head of his cock brushing between the swell of your breasts. Baelor groans loudly, the look of victory on his face mere moments ago completely gone. His pupils are blown wide with lust and his cock twitches as he rucks his hand shallowly over the base.
“My love,” he breathes out. “Gods, please, I need you.”
You straddle his hips, cock a hair’s breadth away from the heat of your core. You lift yourself and ignore the slight tremble in your thighs.
“Do you know how wet you make me?” You ask him in a whisper, and the groan that elicits from his chest was as strong an aphrodisiatic as anything you could find in Lys. You continue, “How soaked I am, simply from your touch?”
Baelor swallows thickly. “Show me––”
“How much I ache for you?” You lift yourself higher until the head of his cock, flushed a painful, bruising red, presses softly to your slick core.
“Oh fuck––” Your husband draws in a sharp breath.
But you don’t sink down. You simply begin to rock yourself back and forth, nudging the head of his cock through the wet folds of your cunt while you whine and whisper questions at him that he most definitely cannot answer. He could reach forward and take your hip in one large hand, slamming you down onto him. He has the power to do it, the nerve to do it, but he holds firm. Doesn’t move. Obeying his princess while she takes what she needs.
“Do you know how often you work late into nightfall, leaving me here, alone? How I have to touch myself to the thought of you because you are not here to satisfy me.”
The prince curses again and screws his eyes shut, relishing in the wet heat coursing down the length of his cock. He imagines you lying in your shared bed, your fingers crooked deep into the silken warmth of your cunt, moans drawing from your lips including a loud lilt of his name into the emptiness of the chambers. He envisions the pads of your fingers working desperately over the swollen bud of your clit, your back arching, nipples straining against the thin white fabric of your shift, pussy bared to the room and clenching around nothing.
His cock twitches and he groans.
“Let me taste you, my love,” is all he can think to say as he opens his eyes. He lets go of his cock to reach for your hip, squeezing gently and caressing the skin, as if that would help strengthen his case.
If you were a weaker woman, it would have.
Instead, you angled yourself to pry his hand away from his cock. He held you still, but let you move his fist away, watching with hooded eyes. All thoughts of work left his mind as you dragged his cock back and forth along the dripping seam of your cunt, nudging your clit and pressing against your hole. Again, and again, and––
“Gods, sweetheart, please,” Baelor whispers, tone strained, his free hand gripping the furs of the bed tightly, knuckles white. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m––”
It takes the power of all Seven above for you not to smile in victory at his incessant pleas before you’re slowly sinking down onto his cock. His head falls back against the pillows and he moans your name, loud and clear into the golden glow of your chambers as his free hand snaps to your hip to mirror the other.
Your cunt opens perfectly for him and you whimper at the stretch. He splits you open, sinking deep inside you in one fluid motion like a sword into its scabbard. The perfect fit. And he lets you know it, too––
“That’s it, that’s it, so good,” Baelor mutters his praises when he finally opens his eyes to look at you again. “So good for me, my love. So good––yeah, there we go.”
You start to move, your thighs tightening as you lift yourself and shift back down, cock rutting deep towards the plug of your cervix. The angle is torturous, and you can feel the vein on his cock inside you. It makes you moan, and then whine when his hands brace against the flesh of your hips. He’s pulling you down onto him before he can stop himself, panting as he watches your pussy take him like something out of a dream.
A spark ignites deep in your belly, your body heating. That fierce, intense heat that seemed to roll off most Targaryen men was the same heat that settles now inside you––inside your womb as you ride a dragon. Your dragon.
And he was never one to play on that too much. Never one to flaunt the fire that ran wild in his veins. Until, of course, he had you over top of him like this. Riding his cock so well, taking him so deep, drawing growls from a hidden part within him.
“That’s a good girl,” he says darkly, his cold rings a biting presence against your waist. “Keep going––ride your dragon, sweetheart.”
You moan, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that the sound probably penetrated the castle walls around you. You focus on the blooming pleasure in the bottom of your belly, the tingle building in the base of your spine, and the heat of his gaze on your face and breasts as you ride him.
Sweat builds up on the back of your neck and down the curve of your spine. You’re panting like a hound, toes curling against the soft furs, hands gripping at the softness of his stomach and chest, feeling the hair there. Baelor’s hands are strong on your hips, rolling you against him, his own hips shifting upwards with each of your movements, meeting you in the middle and thrusting himself deeper inside you. Your cunt is drooling out from around him, and he can’t help but stare at the thin, white ring that is slowly building at the base of his length. Maybe you are magic.
“Baelor,” you whine.
The wooden bedframe is creaking, the candles on a nearby table are flickering, and the setting sun has morphed from a resplendent gold to a blood red. Your chambers were bathed in the colour, your skin drenched in it, matching the ruby that sparkled on one of Baelor’s rings.
He huffs deeply. “My love?”
“I’m…” You taper off on a whine, head flopping forward as your legs begin to cramp and the tension in your belly grows tighter, pulling taut like a bowstring. You manage to whisper out a desperate, “Oh gods, please…”
“I know, I know,” Baelor shushes you gently. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” you whine. You lasted in your conquest for a good amount of time, but ultimately, you can never stay strong when your husband is involved.
He feels you clench around him and he almost loses his sanity, his next words dying on his tongue. They were honey-sweet, though, and so he quickly conjures up, “Need to feel you come around me,” before a low moan rips from his chest.
The hair at his temples has darkened with sweat, his chest flushed. He can feel the desperate tension in his cock, his balls tightening with every wet thrust into the tight clutch of your cunt. He’s fucking you roughly now, chasing the highs that crest upon an imagined horizon like the blazing sun beyond the Keep’s walls. It feels like there is smoking billowing from him, his grunts deep and bordering animalistic, eyes swimming in a red haze as night creeps into the room. The red streaming in is dying out, slowly, slowly––
He moans your name. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you.”
You gasp out. “Fu-uck!” And then come around his cock with a drawn-out moan.
Your pussy draws tight around the thick of him, squeezing and pulsing with your rapid heartbeat. It leaves you breathless, heart hammering against your ribcage as you slump forward, arms liquifying as your pleasure rocks through you. But Baelor catches you, presses you firmly to his chest with one hand while the other retains its grip on your hip, fucking you down onto his cock. He kisses you like this. When you’re pliant in his arms, the qualms of the day banished from your pleasure-hazed mind, he places wet kisses across your face, your throat. He sucks at your neck and tastes the salt of your sweat, and then he licks into your mouth and tastes the saccharine remnants of blood oranges imported from Dorne.
Laying here with you, moving together, his mouth on yours, his cock inside you, Baelor forgets about everything he needs to complete today. He forgets about what had stressed him, and forgets the inkwell likely still dripping onto the stone floor of his solar.
His thrusts become sloppier, less coordinated. He pants into your mouth, kissing the corner with a surprising tenderness in contrast with his manic thrusting.
“Baelor––” You sob out through a tired whimper.
“S’alright, my love, just be good for me,” he replies quickly, and you can hear the tension strung between each word. “Be good for me––fuck, yeah, that’s––oh gods, take it for me, sweetheart, take it––”
With one last rut of his hips, Baelor pulls your arse tightly onto him, practically melding you to his hips as his cock twitches once, twice, and then spills inside you. The sensation draws a strained groan from the prince, and the feeling of his cum filling you shoves an involuntary gasp out of your parted lips.
The two of you lay together, heaving chests pressed against one another, your raging hearts falling into sync, sweat slick between your burning bodies. Like glowing embers, the heir to the iron throne and his beloved wife settle and fizzle out just as the sun finally vanishes behind the distant horizon.
Now only a few candles cast light on where the two of you remain intertwined, Baelor’s softening cock still nestled inside you, your combined slick and cum slowly dribbling out and onto the furs.
Baelor presses another characteristically tender kiss to your forehead as he strokes your back with his large, worn hands. “I am truly sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, my love. I will never cause you such distress again, gods believe me.”
He nuzzles against your cheek as you reply, “I forgive you, my prince. I know how much of a dragon you become when you are overwhelmed.”
He grunts against you, but says nothing more, knowing that, once again, you’re right. And being with you has extinguished the day’s burdens and he feels utterly content.
Summary 𓂃˖₊⊹ it’s hard to help your frustrated husband with his sexual needs when you have kids sleeping in the other room, and can’t keep your mouth shut.
Warnings 𓂃˖₊⊹ SMUT, F/M, p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding mention, biting, soft sex, not proof read
WC 𓂃˖₊⊹ 850~
“Baby, you have to be quiet.”
You bite your lip and close your eyes bringing a pillow over your face to muffle your moans. His thrusts were practically fucking the air out of your lungs.
It was already hard to breathe being under your comforter to soften the sound of his hips smacking the back of your thighs.
One of his hands moves from your leg, to run up your body until he reaches your chest. He runs his thumb over your sensitive nipple and holds his large calloused hand over it squeezing lightly.
“Good girl.”
His thrusts were faster than normal. Things with work, him generally being frustrated, and things building up were all being poured out onto you and his thrusts.
Since having kids you guys barely have time to have sex anymore. When they were younger it was easier to get away with it after they were put to bed, but now that they are older you have to stay quiet so they won’t hear you.
You got tired of not being able to see his face and move the pillow out the way, setting it aside. When you do he smiles when your eyes meet, seeing your soft, fucked out face from trying to keep quiet. He leans forward thrusting faster and kisses your lips.
When he pulls away your moans start getting loud again. You bite your lip noticing, trying to stop them from coming out. He just kisses you again, and again, not stopping so your moans are muffled by his lips.
Your body was buzzing with constant pleasure, your mind not thinking of anything other than how his body feels pushing up against yours.
When you both pull away from the kiss, panting and breathing heavily trying to get air, your whines only get louder.
He looks up at you knowing it would be a problem and brings his hand that was on your chest to your mouth.
“Open for me baby.”
You comply immediately, opening your mouth. When you do, three of his fingers slide in.
“Suck, bite, whatever you need to do to keep that pretty mouth shut.”
You nod lightly and close your mouth around his fingers, sucking softly and grazing your teeth against his knuckles.
You can see the look on his face when he saw how much it was working. He scoffs a light smile holding onto you tighter before thrusting faster. Your body jerks at the sudden pace change and you bite down harder trying to muffle your moans.
“Fuck your so beautiful. You can’t mark me up but no one will know if it’s my hands, right pretty girl?”
You feel tears building up in your eyes along with that fuzzy feeling in your core. You didn’t wanna bite him too hard but you didn’t know how else to stay quiet.
Your hands reach up to his wrist, holding onto him just to have something to grab as you feel your orgasm coming. “Clenching around me so tight. You like being a good girl? Letting me use you like this?”
Your hips move in small circles, begging him to not stop.
You hum around his fingers and nod slightly. He was so close, you could feel his panting against your neck, the twitching of his cock. The heat was overwhelming, the sweat, the humid air in the room from your overheating bodies.
Your moans slow, biting down harder, feeling your body slipping into a state of pleasure. Your body melts, feeling that buzzing take over your body slowly.
“That’s it baby, cum for me.”
Your hands let go of his wrists, your body going limp. You arch your back jerking against his body as you cum over his cock, biting down on his hand hard. You feel his thrusts getting messy before feeling his load filling you up.
His body leans onto yours, making you fully chest to chest, before his hand slides out your mouth, cupping your face making a mess of your own spit all over your cheek and kissing the corner of your lips so you could still catch your breath. His thrusts slow into a stop, but he doesn’t pull out yet. He never pulled out right away. It was like he dragged how long he could stay inside you.
You both go silent, listening to nothing but the ac in the house running. After both recover from your highs, tired and exhausted, he sits back up looking down at you. He just stares, your mascara you were too lazy to take off smudged under your eyes, expression in a slight pout from how tired you are, eyes threatening to close.
He smiles seeing how much he can affect you, and leans down, giving you a proper kiss. You feel his hips softly thrust into you, fucking his load deeper into you.
“You did so good for me, baby. Good job.”
You whine, feeling his cock already growing harder as he did slow thrusts. You pout up at him feeling tired, and sensitive, not knowing if you could handle anything else.
He just smirks, kissing you and looking down at you softly.
“You can give me one more, yeah?”
Authors note 𓂃˖₊⊹ this one is super short but I wanted something short and sweet because I don’t have anything under my bangchan list and HE'S LITERALLY MY ULT so I need something.
