#Wrought up in my bones

[future-dregs]

I can't believe he did this in front of God and everybody

[future-dregs]

[future-dregs]

💭

[future-dregs]

See the thing is that Dean IS obsessive and overbearing, his love is overwhelming and all consuming.

But Sam doesn't feel loved any other way

[future-dregs]

@righteousriot

Sam's happy little smile when they're carving their initials into the table made me think of your fic and how similar Sam might look cutting his mark into certain other things

Supernatural Hiatus Creations | Week Six Prompt: Winchester Brothers Sam and Dean - The greatest love story ever told. Their love and devotion to each other has never changed and never will. 

[future-dregs]

When Sam rides Dean he pushes his hands against his chest or braces himself on Dean's thighs and he throws his head back and just uses him, rough and fast and hard, sating that deep aching want inside him. Dean reaches up to touch but Sam laces their fingers together and pushes him deeper into the bed and when he comes he streaks Dean's chest and neck with it.

Dean loves it, can't get enough of it, and the tightness of Sam around him and way his mouth falls open is usually enough to finish him off, but if its not Sam will keep going, even beyond the point of pleasure until Dean is dripping down the inside of his legs.

When Dean rides Sam he rolls his hips, whimpers and groans and shows off. He brings Sam's hands up to squeeze his chest and moans his name all soft and pretty. He takes his time, tantalizing and bringing Sam close to the edge over and over again until Sam is gritting his teeth and swearing, and they're both panting and slick with sweat, til he's gripping Dean's hips and slamming hard up into him. Sometimes Dean will come just from that and other times he won't even be able to get hard until Sam puts a hand on him, but he never let's himself come until Sam does. Sam comes inside and pulls him around to look and then he's pressing kisses all over and deeply on his mouth and Dean comes with Sam's tongue in his throat and his hand around his dick but either way they do it, it always ends with them both blissed out and satisfied.

[nerdygirlramblings]

a continuation of my ancient gods drabble

In the days following your sacrifice, the rains abated enough for the ground to begin to recover from years of want. Cool mud formed where only cracks had existed, and the once fallow fields began to take on life once more. You sent up a prayer to Gaz and a thanks, for clearly without his intercession there would be no ground in which Tav's harvest could take root. Word comes to the village that fighting is slowly ceasing as warriors make their way home to plant the soon to be ready fields. You thank both Jon and the god of death for sparing your people further devastation.

The morning after your sacrifice you kept to your house, unsure of what to make of the new marks on your skin. By the time you finally ventured out to see the people, it was clear to them a change had been wrought in you. It wasn't simply the marks they could see but a distant way in which you carried yourself, part of them still but separate now. They approached you with more caution, wary yet full of wonder. No one knew exactly what you had done, and even you weren't clear on what had happened that night, but the people knew that you were going to try to save them. And all that mattered to them was that something worked. So when you approached the village elders with your request to build new shrines to those ancient gods, no one felt they could deny you, whether out of obligation to you or true belief in what you were talking about.

Slowly, four new shrines are erected in the space between where houses stop and the fields and scrubland start. You work hard to ensure what is built matches the images in the ancient texts as best as possible. Gaz's altar is a simple, sturdy table. For Jon, you convince the smith to shape broken weapons into an altar. A few of your people willingly donate pieces of their beds or old cradles for Tav's altar. You do not seek real bones for the altar of the god of death, hopeful the carvings you create to mimic bone is enough.

Before your sacrifice, you used to help members of the village with their chores. Now your people leave you to work on the shrines and give thanks to the gods who saved them.

Every night, you sleep fitfully, waking to fragments of dreams that feel more and more real. The taste of blood, thick and metallic, clings to the back of your throat. The scent of herbs and spices floats off your clothes. Your thighs shake with exertion as you move about the village. Unmistakable purpling bruises wreath your neck.

Each time you dream, the scenes seem to blend and blur one into the other. Spectral skeletons gather at the edge of the battlefield. The clash and clang of swords sounds in the distance while you gorge yourself on roasted meats. The scents of fresh bread and ripe fruit are carried on the wind as you're fucked into the warm ground.

Whispers chase you into wakefulness, murmurs about "worship" and "growing stronger" and a clear "our wife." None of it makes sense. But you cannot shake the feeling that something more is coming, that another change, greater than that which has already occurred, is on the horizon.

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[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[future-dregs]

Jealous!Sam, my heart's blood ♥️

[future-dregs]

@biromantic-nerd @righteousriot @paranoidxbastard

How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?

[twola]

The Afterglow

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Your hand curls around the wrought-iron bed frame, banging against the wall for several minutes. Maybe you’re doing it to muffle the sound, but more likely, you’re grasping the metal to keep yourself from collapsing face forward from where you’re on your knees.

Your knees shake, body roiling with every rough thrust into your sopping cunt. You pant, hair disheveled, seeing stars. You can’t count the number of times you’ve found your pleasure; you feel as wrung out as a washcloth on laundry day.

A large hand steadies you, spreading out below your navel, above where the curls of your pubic hair begin. Warm, strong, rough - it presses inward, and you sputter as your insides constrict as if your lover is trying to feel himself through your body.

“Good girl-” 

All you can respond with is a pitiful mewl. He’s on his knees behind you, all those hot, long, hard inches of him buried in your cunt. 

His hand snakes down further, through your dark hair, to right above, where he pierces you with his flesh. His trigger finger finds that hooded nub of nerves and circles at it in time with the thrusting of his hips.

“A-Ar-Arthur!” You cry out, wrecked, overstimulated. You clench around him with yet another bone-shattering orgasm, and your warm, liquid arousal gushes softly from your body onto him, wetting his curls each time he continually thrusts into you.

With one final, overwhelming moan, he slams his hips into yours animalistically before withdrawing, you whimper as suddenly you feel so empty.

The slick sounds of him pumping himself fill the bedroom, and he leans over you again, his front to your back - his forehead pressing lightly between your shoulder blades - and grunts loudly as you feel hot spurts of his pleasure land on the back of your thighs.

For moments, you remain there, holding onto the bed frame with one hand as one of his braces against your pelvis. You swear it's him keeping you from collapsing. His pants are loud behind you, and finally, after what seems like forever, he lets go of you, moving off the mattress and stepping ungainly toward the bowl of water on the bureau across the room. You hear him dip a washcloth into the basin and wipe himself clean.

You roll down onto the bed, your sore body wanting to curl in on itself. Laying on your side, a jolt goes through your smarting core, and you whimper quietly as you tuck your hand between your legs and close them tightly together.

Arthur drops the washcloth immediately and comes back to bed, sliding behind you and molding his body around yours, uncaring of his drying spend on your thigh now pressed against him.

“Y’alright?” Oh sweetheart-” he coos softly as he draws back errant strands of your hair from your face.

You don't turn toward him, remaining still as his fingers trail down your arm, gentle and soft.

“I just - don’t you wish you had someone who c’d keep up with you?” you whisper harshly, that self doubt creeping in. You could barely stay upright during the more passionate of your encounters. Sometimes the soreness from his cock cleaving into you has you telling him no to further lovemaking that day. The way you felt now, it seemed like it would be the case for the rest of the evening.

He had rented a hotel room and everything.

“Now you stop with that talk, darlin’ girl.”

His hand trails from your arm up to your collarbone then reaches your breast's swell. A gentle rub over your nipple makes you shiver before his hand engulfs it whole. “Perfect size.”

Arthur’s hand squeezes and kneads your breast for a moment as he leans over and presses his lips to your shoulder.

His hand moves downward to rest on your waist below your ribcage, “ ‘and here, perfect for me to grab, in bed or outside. Perfect for me to hold when you're sittin’ on my knee by the fire.”

“Yer so good t’ me.” He rumbles into your neck, and his hand traces lower, lower, until it reaches yours, tucked between your aching legs. Instead of pushing them open, he slides his hand over yours and pulls gently, just enough so that you remove your hand from between your thighs.

Your fingers intertwine, resting gently in that thatch of dark hair.

“ ‘nd here, I feel so safe and warm when I'm inside you.” 

He can’t see you roll your eyes, but you half turn your head to make yourself heard, “How could I possibly make you feel safe?” 

He was a foot gunslinger of muscle born of beating men and hard labor. One of the most fearsome men in the country. He certainly didn’t need protection, not from some flit of a woman like you.

“When I’m inside you… stripped of all my guns and everythin’’… I just…” he trails off, and you crane your neck to make eye contact with him.

His hand leaves yours and quickly cups your cheek. 

“Guess when I’m inside y’, I feel wanted. Like you’re takin’ me in and shieldin’ me with all of you.” He whispers.

Your brow crinkles, and you feel your eyes start to water over before you blink away unbidden tears. Turning around in his arms, you throw yours around his neck as you lean in to kiss him, and he fervently meets you halfway.

It’s several moments of this, of tongues pressing together, of breathing each other’s breath, of sweat-slicked skin plastered against each other.

When he finally pulls away, you cannot help but smile, placing your hand on his cheek. His scruffy beard tickles your palm.

“Now let me hold you for the rest of the night,” he says, a smile gracing his face.

Your eyes flit down to his lips again, and you see him smirk. Then you close your eyes, and his lips meet yours in the softest, most loving kiss.

[ceciliajohanna]

a fate worse than death

The hunter and the vampire danced across the mansion, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Blades clashed against fangs and claws. Silver bullets flew in every direction; fast, but not fast enough.

The hunter’s element of surprise was long gone, and so was their momentum. The fight was reaching its crescendo. They parried and parried and parried, using every trick they could think of to fend off the inevitable for just a few more seconds.

This was no longer about survival. It was about dignity.

“Enough,” the vampire snarled. A hard shove sent the hunter flying, an ominous crack resonating through their spine as they crashed into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. Explosions of pain erupted through their body. They fell to their knees, ears ringing, heart racing. They pulled themselves together, planting a palm on the floor to bounce back up on their feet—

The hunter’s legs didn’t move.

Oh.

A final rush of adrenaline sizzled through their bloodstream before dying out altogether. Their empty gun slid out of their hand.  

It was over.

The vampire plucked a bullet from of a bleeding crater in their shoulder, frowning at the silver shell before tossing it on the cracked mahogany flooring. The wound instantly knitted itself back together, leaving nothing behind but a stain of red on the vampire’s torn shirt. They were old—far older than the hunter had expected. The hunter had taken down the fledglings inhabiting the lair, but against the monster itself, they hadn’t stood a chance.

A resigned smile tugged at the hunter’s lips as their gaze swept over the havoc they’d wrought. Toppled furniture. Shattered chandeliers. Numerous piles of ash, marking the exact location where each fledgling had met their demise. The battle had left the structure of the mansion fundamentally compromised, allowing beams of sunlight to trickle in through gaping holes in the walls. No matter what happened next, the vampire was going to have to find themselves a new batch of fledglings and a new lair.  

As far as last stands went, the hunter could have done worse.

“Are you done?” The vampire wrinkled their nose at the demolished sitting room, clearly following the same train of thought.

“I believe so,” the hunter said, and they meant it. They’d been in the business long enough to recognize a body broken beyond repair. They could feel their life slip further away from them with every rattling breath.  

“I was rather fond of this place, you know,” the vampire said, their voice clipped. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish, but I hope you’re satisfied.”

“Would’ve been nice to take you down with me, but yes.” The hunter raised their chin. “I’m satisfied.”

The hunter was not afraid of death. They’d encountered enough immortal creatures over the years to know that a limited lifetime was, in many ways, a blessing rather than a curse. Despite being little more than soft flesh and brittle bones, humans carried something within them that those monsters seemed to lack.

A soul.

Any moment now, the hunter would meet their family again. Their siblings, their parents, their grandparents—an entire bloodline of fallen hunters, waiting for them on the other side. Human lives may be fleeting, but souls were eternal. Death was not the end. Death was a journey into the unknown, marking the start of a new beginning.

The hunter was not afraid.

“Cheeky.” The vampire’s fury lost its edge, shifting into mild annoyance. They tilted their head to the side, studying their prey. “This is usually the part where my uninvited visitors break down in tears. You do understand that I’m going to kill you, right?”

“There are fates far worse than death.”

“I see,” the vampire said, their face unreadable. “How can you be so certain?”

The hunter’s skin crawled under the vampire’s unblinking scrutiny. “I just know.”

“You just know.” The vampire snorted—a surprisingly human sound coming from a monster. “You really are a peculiar creature.”

“How so?” the hunter couldn’t help but ask.

“Mortals tend to cling to life like it’s the only thing worth fighting for. It’s in your nature. You beg. You plead. You bargain. This?” The vampire finally blinked, their lips forming an uncanny imitation of a smile. “This is new.”

The vampire sauntered towards them, carefully avoiding the intruding rays of sunlight. Their effortless grace made the hunter add a few more centuries to their approximate age. There was something unmistakably wrong about the way ancient beings moved. The world seemed to curve around them, like a river branching to make room for a particularly stubborn rock.

The vampire’s presence was like a declaration of war against time itself.

“So… what’s the secret?” The vampire crouched before the hunter, their gaze lit up by genuine curiosity. “Terminal illness? Insanity?” They paused. “Nothing to live for?”

A spike of pain that had nothing to do with their ruined body needled its way into the hunter’s chest; an invisible blade slipping between the cracks of their broken rib cage. The faces of their nieces, their nephews, and the citizens they’d sworn to protect flashed before their eyes.

“I’ve got plenty to live for,” the hunter said. “Which means I’ve got plenty to die for as well.”

“Sounds a bit contradictory to me.”

“It’s not.” A guttural cough tore free from the hunter’s throat, leaving them gasping for breath. “If it’s all the same to you, I would like to… to go now. Just finish it.”  

“Finish it? After everything you just told me?” The vampire’s cold laugh shattered the sense of civility that had somehow grown between them. “Oh, little one, we’re not done yet.”  

Blood drained from the hunter’s face. An emotion they thought they’d already conquered formed a vengeful knot under their sternum, its claws digging deep into their stomach.     

Fear.

“A swift death would be a blessing for someone like you. A gift.” The vampire leaned closer. “You killed my children. You destroyed my home. I’m not feeling particularly charitable right now.”

The hunter instinctively tried to scoot backwards, but their useless legs kept them anchored to the floor. The fact that they’d even tried to move at all shook them to the core. Their fear had spread to the point that they were now acting upon it.

“I did enjoy our little chat, though. A peculiar creature indeed.” The vampire fell silent, disappearing into their own thoughts. The hunter held their breath, waiting for the final verdict.

The obvious solution seemed to hit them both at once.

No.

The vampire’s face split into a bone-chilling grin. The hunter’s heart plummeted through their chest.

No, no, no.

The hunter's pride finally cracked. They wanted to beg, to plead, to bargain, to scream, but they knew it wouldn’t make a difference.  

It was the perfect punishment for a human unfazed by death.

It was the perfect way to rob the hunter of what they valued the most.

 “I think immortality would look good on you,” the vampire said, and slid their fangs into the hunter’s throat.

[druidwolf21]

Five more minutes

Sanguinis/F reader

As requested, here's a little sweet short with everyone's favourite pigeon for (a super duper late) valentines

Fluff and smut( marked by 🌹) are clearly separated so you can read the fluff without anything spicy

Went out with some girlfriends, got a little bit tipsy, talked about big men, rewrote the whole thing, enjoy!

Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @thisuserislilsilly @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kitty-chan33 @incrediblethirst

Sanguinius rolled his arm as the last of his armour dropped from his body, the golden pauldron hitting the metal deck with a shuddering clang as it echoed through the armoury. The tech priests bustled about him, gathering the fallen armour and removing it section by section, scurrying it away to be better cleaned and blessed.

He watched disinterested as the last mechanicum bowed low before exiting with his dented shoulder guard. Pulling on a robe, he exhaled deeply and allowed his shoulders to slump as the door clicked shut, leaving him alone.

The muscles in his back twitched as he stretched with a rumbling groan. Bringing his arms above his head, Sanguinius winced at the crack of bones and tendon as he reached up and shook his muscles loose.

A gentle knock had his head whipping to the door.

"enter" he sighed straightening himself and plastering a smile on his face. Ever the visage of nobility, despite the ache that crept up his back, gnawing at his joints. The door creaked open slowly and suddenly all the bruises and strains vanished.

The door closed with a quiet hiss.

"welcome back, my lord"

🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶

You grinned as you dipped into a small curtsey.

"I'm glad you'r-"

Your words were knocked from you as large arms swept you up in a warm embrace. Laughing, you grasped onto his arms as he spun you, holding you close.

"little bird, I missed you" he smiled, finally setting you back down and kneeling. His hand found your cheek as he pulled you in for a soft kiss, his lips brushing yours in a feather light embrace.

"I missed you too" you sighed, grasping his face gently between your hands. "I'm glad you're back safe"

The angel chuckles softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "I will always return to you, my love, you needn't have worried yourself"

"I will always worry about you, someone has to"

You fussed with his hair, picking clumps of dirt and congealed matter from his locks before wiping the mess onto the scarlet silk of your dress.

He took your hand in his own, pulling you away from his tangles to press a gentle kiss against your knuckles and you pulled back slightly as he finally rose back to his feet. His eyes lingered on you intently as you trailed your own gaze across his body, scouring for signs of injury.

"see something you like, my lady?

You flushed as he flashed you a grin, cocking his head to the side.

"perhaps"

You stepped behind him, pressing a finger into the tensed muscle of his lower back. A hiss emanated from sanguinius and the feathers of his wings puffed in discomfort as you felt the muscle spasms beneath your touch.

"I thought so"

You pulled away, crossing your arms with a scowl before gripping his hand and turning on your heels, heading for the door.

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Raldoron clutched his helmet under his arm as he made his way towards the primarch's armoury, a blinking data slate beeping furiously in one hand as he marched down the corridor.

Halting before the wrought door, he huffed and dragged a hand through his hair. His primarch had been aboard the red tear all but an hour and already cries for the angel to return to the field had begun to echo through the ships vast halls.

Reluctantly, he raised his fist to rap a knuckle against the metal, armoured fingers not even touching the door before it flew open.

"my lady?"

The woman looked up at him with a quizzical look, one arm reaching behind the door before a frown settled across her features.

"no"

The captain stood silent for a moment, staring at the baseline.

"I'm sorry, my lady?"

The woman shook her head.

"I said no"

"my lady, I dont-"

"My lord has barely removed his armour, whatever it is, it can wait"

Before the blood angel could contest, her small hand gently nudged him aside as she stepped through, guiding the great angel behind her as she stormed away.

"My lord-"

"IT. CAN. WAIT"

Raldoron, first captain of the blood angels, esquerry to the primarch himself, stood in shock as his gene father was led from the armoury, an apologetic smile on his face as he vanished round the corner.

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Sanguinius stood as you bustled around his quarters, towels piled in your hands as steam pooled from the bathroom door. You were muttering to yourself as you shifted through your dresser, pulling oils and creams from the drawers before hurrying into the washroom.

A warm comfort wrapped around his chest as he watched you work, bent over the giant marbled pool as you scattered sweet smelling salts into the clear water. You glanced over your shoulder at him and smiled, so sweetly he felt his hearts jump behind his ribs.

"come whilst the water is warm, my love"

Tossing his robe over his head, he stepped over and sank into the bath. Sitting with his wings stretched out, he groaned as the heat seeped into his overworked muscles. A flash of red drew his eye, your dress was tossed to the side as you stepped in beside him, Soft hands rubbing gentle circles in the knots of his shoulders.

He gritted his teeth as your small fingers found a bundle of tired nerves at the base of his wing.

🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶

"sorry" you whispered as you felt sanguinius jolt under your hand. "I promise this will help"

Working quickly, you rubbed the muscles of his back, slowly easing out the kinks and sprains with gentle caresses and medicinal oils, working from his shoulders, along his spine and through the tendons in his wings as the scent of herbs filled your nose. His body responded to your touch, arching into the warmth of your hand, soft downy feathers pudding up as you ran a finger along the joint.

Gradually the tension left his body and you moved to his hair, running your nails along his scalp as you teased debris from his golden tangles.

"better?"

He responded with a hum, a contented rumble as he leant against your hand, eyes fluttering shut as you rinsed the suds from his head.

You stayed for a moment, fingers threading through his hair before he turned, wings flaring behind him as he twisted and pulled you into his lap.

Sitting in comfortable silence, you lay your head on his chest, eyes closed as you listened to the reassuring thud of his hearts.

"I really should see what Raldoron wanted" he sighed, shifting reluctantly beneath you.

"five more minutes" you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling against him.

A chuckle reverberated through him

"five more minutes"

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Calloused fingers found your jaw, bringing your face up. Golden eyes stared into yours for a moment before he pulled you into a heated kiss. His tongue tracing along your lips, tasting you as his hands roamed your body kneading at your flesh. His hands found your hips as he slid you forward, smirking into the kiss as you gasped, feeling him harden against you.

"five more minutes?" He muttered against your lips.

Your hips rolled forward, sliding your cunt against his length as you groaned into the kiss, panting as you continued to grind against him.

"so needy, my lady" he whispered, his mouth trailing soft kisses along the line of your jaw and down your throat, pausing above your pulse point as it fluttered beneath your skin.

"did you miss me that much?"

You shuddered as his thumb began tracing slow circles against your clit. You could feel yourself slowly teetering towards the edge, the knot in your gut tightening, so close to release.

His hand stilled, and you whimpered, rocking your pelvis forward to chase your release. His grip on your hip tightened and you stilled, eyes fluttering as you felt his tip sliding against your wet cunt, slowly sliding in, inch by inch. Gasping at the stretch as he finally bottomed out, his thick dick bullying your tight walls as he thrust into you.

You gripped his shoulders, nails sinking into his taunt muscle as you bounced, groaning as his hips rose you meet yours, the tip of his cock finding the spot that made you sing so sweetly for him.

A hand tangled in your hair, jerking your head backwards, exposing your throat as sharp canines broke your skin. You head spun as the angel lapped at the bloody streaks staining your skin, his tongue following the crimson trail as it dropped down your neck and between your breasts.

"so sweet" he panted, kissing the blossoming bruise he had created. "My perfect little bird"

Your eyes rolled back as you came, heat blossoming through your body as you cried out his name. Beneath you, the primarch groaned, his hands shooting to grasp your waist as he felt you clench around him. His thrusts became erratic, hips jerking as he chased his own relief, as he fucked into you, hissing as you clenched around him.

You fell forward onto his broad chest, panting as he finally came, words in high Gothic and his native tongue wrung from his lips as he spilled inside you. Rough palms holding you firm as you felt him fill you and leak between your thighs.

His twin hearts thundered against his ribs and his lungs heaved like bellows as you clung to him, feeling his soften inside you. He held you close, the hand that tangled in your hair now softly trailing up and down your spine, raising goosebumps in its wake.

🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶

Sanguinius brushed a hair from your cheek, admiring the soft pink flush still present on your skin as your breaths evened out and deepened. Smiling, he placed a soft kiss against your brow, admiring the light reflecting in your eyes as you blinked up at him.

"five more minutes?" He asked, tucking the loose strand behind your ear.

"five more minutes"

[future-dregs]

⏳⌛

[sauronxgaladriel]

Haladriel Library

Saurondriel/Haladriel Fanfic Recommendations. Some of these stories could fit into multiple categories. If you have any more recommendations feel free to add them!

Marriage

Shadow-Bride by eye_of_a_cat

Bridesprice by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks 

Poison & Wine by Coraleeveritas

Galadriel takes longer to discover Sauron's identity

no matter how many skies have fallen by stitchingatthecircuitboard

A man is a god in ruins by eye_of_a_cat

Queen of the Southlands by FormerlyIR

Galadriel Says Yes

The House That Fire Built by Ready_For_The_Laughing_Gas

dig up the bones (but leave the soul alone) by Wyrd_Syster

Gilded by eye_of_a_cat

And white winter, on its knees by eye_of_a_cat

Mortal Laws by Helholden

A Portion of Thyself by Frotu

Reforged in the Making by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks)

Fabricated by Frotu

Canon Divergence/Reimagining of S1 and onwards

I could be your king by cliffdiving

The Tides of Fate by fireheart321

In Case of Defeat, Break Glass by eastwynds

that i may rise and stand, o'erthrow me by mortaltemples

Five times Halbrand's secret got revealed by eye_of_a_cat

Across That Fine Line by MyrsineMezzo

Instruments of Salvation by Scriberated

a fair form by properhaunt

Autocorrelation by EisforEverything

The Return of the Queen by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

A Feast of Starlight by TheLightofArwyn

Supernatural Creature AU

should have known better by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo) (Witch/Demon AU)

Wild Magic by Scriberated (Witch/God)

Storm Tides & Weaving Threads by elssiie (Siren AU)

just a taste by stardustspell (Vampire AU)

Haladriel meet before TROP

Spark, Ignite, Burn by cliffdiving

our souls were made from the stars by silverwing12 (Deleted)

Necessity's Bargain by Scriberated

Though the Gods and the Years Relent, Shall Be by Helholden

determination is the cure (for longing) by downtheroadandupthehill

where the spirit meets the bones by kangaroopaws

people throw rocks at things that shine by ophidion

Pick a star, and follow it home by CloudlySkies124

Hades Persephone Vibes

Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by Helholden

a dust like thine by mortaltemples

One-Shots

Unsired by shady-swan-jones (sweetleaf), sweetleaf 

the light of his eyes by eastwynds

now dark, now glittering by mortaltemples

In the Shadow of Your Heart by mzladybird

i cannot heave my heart into my mouth by fallofrain

this love is glowing in the dark by Orcas86

we could just kiss, like real people do by justatinycollector 

a millstone around my neck by mortaltemples

the nameless by bimmyou

next time by you_wear_fine_things_well

ouroboros by Amuria

Pregnancy/Parenthood

Light and Power by chronicallyexhaustedwriter

shining like a fiery beacon by ophidion

A Blessing of Eru by Scriberated

mitosis by Orcas86

Darkness Bound by no_more_doubt

Smut

A Stressed Tiding by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks

this love is glowing in the dark by Orcas86

Buried in Bone by Invisible_Hand

Riptide by makeshiftdraco

Perfection by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

like magnets work, only drawn to thee by audreystark

To Follow the Light by Thrill_of_hope

A Moment of Honesty by Draconic_Grace

Dream Within a Dream by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

bind yourself to me by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

Dream Within a Dream by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo)

Lady of the Seas by eye_of_a_cat

Dark/Dead Dove

all your pain will end here by poeticmemory

Land of Enchantment by EisforEverything

perle by emphemeron

Glanduin Kiss by Anonymous

The Cost of Victory by EisforEverything

what you and i have wrought by thefudge

what heart's ease by fallofrain

Sauron as Annatar

hold her head above the water by Orcas86

next time by you_wear_fine_things_well

the light of his eyes by eastwynds 

Contaminate by Frotu

[twooftheluckyones]

Cult of the Lamb: Luck of the Lamb Part 3: Paradigm Shift Belief is a force beyond reckoning. What one believes in can shape the entire course of their lives, and if their will is strong enough, the lives of others as well. So great can someone's ideals be, that their divine power might change the very fabric of reality. After all, the Lamb was wrought to bring change. ~Previous/Next~ ~Start~

~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

"Una, you have done well," Narinder boomed from above. Finally, freedom was so close. Pride and triumph filled him, victory barely within his grasp. "You are freed from my service. Return the crown to me, so that I may be free! Finally... I will be FREE!" An electric energy filled his arms, the shackles binding him gone, now only one final chain to be broken. Una looked up at the god, eyes filled with awe but still pleading. "Narinder, I have one final request of you," she asked, nervousness filling her entire core and seeping into her words. She felt ready to implode. "Let me join you, fighting by your side as your most trusted follower!" Narinder's smile faded, looking guarded, but still neutral. "I have spent my entire life in your service, and hold you above all else. Let me stay by your side and continue my duties as your loyal servant, please!" Narinder's smile faded, and for a pause he looked at her, conflicted. "Your growing divinity has given you courage above all else... I will at least give you some closure." His jaw tightened, his demeanor turning dour as shadow covered his face. It had to be this way. "You ask far beyond what can be done. I cannot save you from your ending." He looked down at her, eyes narrow. "I arrived in much the same manner you did; by dying. My vile siblings struck me down, but death is my domain. The power within the crown would have allowed me to escape. It is only with their binding chains that I was trapped here." Una felt the floor vanish from under her, clutching the crown with fear. The implication of his words began to sink in. "No! There must be a way!" She stammered, desperation taking hold. "T-The ritual of resurrection?!" "The mortal soul is but a candle, simple to relight, but the raging power of a god cannot simply be rekindled with mere bones and chanting." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the vast expanse around them. Suddenly the still air felt thick, oppressive, binding. "Their chains may be gone, but we are still both bound to this place, and have been since we died. Death is as inevitable as the sand in an hourglass running empty. It is only through the crown's power that a god can escape it." He looked at her again, and only for a moment she saw the faint glimmer regret in his eyes. But determination snuffs it instantly. "This includes you... Una," the name is oozing with remorse, far more sympathy than the god has ever granted anyone. "Your musings of emergent divinity are true. Even if you returned the crown, I cannot undo the divinity that now fills your soul." He stretched his arm out again, hand right in front of her. His eyes smoldered with command. There is no other way. "Return it. Now." Una did not obey. Her trembling hands steeled themselves around a jet black sword, glaring up at him with furious refusal in her eyes. Tears of betrayal ran down her face, but did not sway her hand. There had to be another way. The electricity in her body surged, divine energy rising up around her as she prepared to defy destiny. The space around them crackled with the whirlwind of power, a furious storm summoned by one who defies all odds and opposes fate itself. One becomes nothing, and the universe trembled in change.