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[risustravelogue]

Marks On You

Summary:

What would you get when you get frisky with your husband, the Duke of Meropide, throughout the day? You get bent over his desk, that's what.

Featuring:

Dom!Husband!Wriothesley, Sub!fem!Reader

Tags:

Smut. Filth. You have been warned. He basically manhandles you while you're being handcuffed. Marking, biting, breeding. Sweet aftercare 💕

Note:

I wrote this throughout the week and thought it would lie there unfinished like my bookshelf sex Alhaitham smut (hehe yes) but I suddenly had an inspiration for the opening line. ... I am so down bad for this man.

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Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky.

You’d tease him and he’d tease back; you’d steal pecks and kisses whenever you pass each other throughout the day, to his delight and amusement; and your hands would always find their way to his body—touching first innocently, then it gets increasingly not-so-innocent as the hours pass by.

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky, because it means you’ll submit completely to his carnal whims once he gets his hands on you.

And as your most beloved husband, what better reward can he get?

Such is today, when you find yourself pinned under him, all compliant and obedient and taking him so well even though it’s barely past work hours. You lay face down at the edge of his desk with your wrists cuffed behind your back, helplessly squirming as his hips slam against yours from behind. The way his length slides partly out of your hole, only for the tip to churn your insides again as his balls slap against your slick-coated clit, elicit sinful whimpers out of you. His moans are raspy, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to hold you steady as he pounds you into submission.

“Good girl… I’ve marked you with my cum twice already, but…”

He growls beside your ear with a dangerously low voice as his fingers start playing with your sensitive bud.

“Too bad for you, it only makes me want to fuck you more.”

The sounds of both of your and his moans and wet slaps of skin echo across his office room while he thrusts into you again, again, and again, your mind going blank from the overstimulation. You try to sync your breathing with his movements to no avail, only blurting out a “Ngh– more– m-more–” as he fucks you senseless. You whine as you feel a sting on your butt from his palm meeting your ass.

“Louder,” he says. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pulls you into him even more.

“Ah– ah– fuck– N-no– I can’t–”

“Beg louder, I said!” he orders. He bites the side of your neck as he slams his hips hard into you.

A loud moan escapes your throat without restraint. Someone outside must’ve heard your voice, but you don’t care anymore—his cock feels too damn good.

“Breed me!” you scream. “Please– I want you to breed me–”

Wriothesley chuckles and sucks on your earlobe, sending shivers rippling through your skin.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

He moves his hips faster. His thrusts become more frantic as he nears the height of his ecstasy.

“Cum with me, cum with– ngh!”

His hands squeeze at your hips and his teeth sink into the skin of your nape as he reaches his climax, shooting his thick, hot cum into you yet again. You shudder and whimper as you feel pleasure overloading your senses, the addictive sensation blurring your vision into blissful oblivion. You can barely hear the clicking sounds as your husband takes the handcuffs off your wrists, whining when he slides out of you while peppering your back with gentle kisses. The duality of his actions makes you dizzy with affection.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he shushes as he turns you around. He plants a kiss on your lips, then your forehead while he gathers your limp body into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and places your head on his chest as he reclines. His hand pulls you in, pressing your cheek against his bare skin. He kisses the crown of your head while his fingers absentmindedly play with your hair.

That’s when he notices that there are some small bruises forming on your skin, mostly on your nape and the side of your neck. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest, and he feels his heartbeat becoming just a little bit erratic at the thought of hurting you.

“Was I too rough?” he asks with a quiet voice, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“No,” you hum, unaware of the calming feeling your answer has on him. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

You plant a kiss on his flushed cheek, then nuzzle up against his neck.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you so much, you know that?”

Wriothesley feels his heart flutter. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent.

“I do,” he mumbles. “And I love you, too.”

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