#corpse husband header

[tonycries]

SECOND masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 02/10/24 up until now — for my earlier works check out on my FIRST MASTERLIST <3

👻 = from my Kinktober!

MONSTA! 👻

WILD WILD WILD 👻

Bad Bad Boy 👻

PONY 👻

Girl, I'm Into It! 👻

KNOTTY GIRL! 👻

NNN

Madam.

BUTTER

FEVER FEVER FEVER

BUMPIN' THAT!

DDD

CHERRY-POP!

JUNO

O-O-O-OBSESSED!

D!LFMAS?!

BIIIG STRETCH.

STICKYYY

Like a Dog!

P*SSY POWER!

TALKIN' BOOODY!

STUFFED.

Animals — Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve. 👻

Corpse Groom — Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve? 👻

The Initiation — From now onwards, you’re the madam of the Gojo clan - and your clan leader husband is going to prove it to everyone.

Cake or Fake — The only birthday gift your brother’s best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-dating…

Sweetheart Online — Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Love Thy D!LF — Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Bed Chem — No, you’ve never gone through a heat. No, your big bad neighbor, Toji Fushiguro, hasn’t had a rút in years. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive when all that changes with your…bed chem.

SCREEN QUEEN! — To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Sweetener — You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Madam Kamo — Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Your (Super)Man — He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.

50 Shades of Kento — You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

My Oh My — Trick or treat! The mean ínmate in Room 6/9 doesn’t want halloween candy - he wants something else much, much sweeter. 👻

©2025 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (25)

Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: descriptions of traumatic injuries

Author's Note: There's an alternate version of the header at the end. I love it, but it's far too unserious to actually use.

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn had never craved violence. When she tackled Rhaena all those years ago, all she wanted was to save Aemond. When she stabbed Daemon only the night before, it had been in a desperate attempt to save her own life. But now, as she frantically ran through the halls of the Red Keep in an ill-fitting dress borrowed from the Queen, with a fur stole covering her neck, she wanted nothing more than to feel her father’s blood running through her fingers.

If he had done anything to hurt Brynna, she… she did not know what she would do. Claw at his face, perhaps. Or rip every hair from his head. Gouge out his eyes. Take his sword and cut him in two, as he had done to Vaemond Velaryon. Command Emrys, the dragon he had once tried to keep from her, to burn him alive.

Or maybe she would simply unleash Aemond upon him.

From the murderous glint in her husband’s eye and the hard set of his jaw, she knew that was the cruelest thing she could do. He would make him suffer for what he had done to her. By the time Daemon finally breathed his last, perhaps some tiny modicum of justice would have been served.

Arianwyn was torn from her fantasy of revenge when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Aemond’s back. She could not see why he had stopped, only that his hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his new wife.

The four Bronze Guard that had followed them from their chambers drew their blades, two moving forward to flank Aemond.

���Stand down. All of you,” Alicent commanded, laying a soothing hand on Aemond’s shoulder as she stepped around him.

Though Aemond did not release his weapon, he did step aside, allowing Arianwyn to see Larys Strong standing before them.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the clubfooted Lord of Harrenhal looked over the harried group with a grimace. Though his face was set in pity and sadness, it did not reach his eyes. “I am afraid your presence is urgently required in the Great Hall, Your Grace. Prince Daemon claims he has been attacked and is demanding a trial immediately.”

“A trial?” Arianwyn asked, trapped somewhere between fear and hope. A trial meant that his attacker was alive, for a corpse could not face judgment.

Larys’ dull eyes locked onto her face. “He has brought the accused – your long-serving maid, Brynna Taler – before the Hand and the Small Council. The guards are presently attempting to disperse the crowd his… theatrics have attracted.”

“Has he hurt her?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking with terror.

Flicking his eyes to Aemond and the sword on the prince’s hip, Larys replied with careful diction, “Not fatally, my Lady.”

But the words offered no comfort. That Daemon had laid even a finger upon her was enough to set her tears flowing and a sob ripping from her wounded throat.

That single cry was more than enough for Aemond. He growled, drawing his blade as he pushed past the Lord Confessor. Alicent followed him, shouting futilely for him to remain calm, with Aria not far behind.

Aemond could hardly see the path in front of him for the bloodlust surging through his veins. The fearful stares of courtiers and servants alike as he stalked through the halls of the keep were as inconsequential to him as rats in the gutter.

However, the words they whispered as they approached the Throne Room echoed through his mind.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Of course not! He has only done what we have always expected.”

“It’s only that she’s been on Dragonstone that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“That is precisely what I mean! He’s been stewing in anger for all these years.”

“Perhaps since he could not have Prince Lucerys’ eye, he took her instead.”

“She may have loved him once, but that was when they were young, and he had no scar.”

“Would you want that sharing your bed?”

“Gods, just look at him. Not even Maegor looked such a villain.”

“He did it. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Aemond would not react. He would not give them that satisfaction.

He knew what he looked like. They had been so rushed to find Brynna that he’d only thrown on his trousers and loose tunic from the day before, leaving his hair untied and his eye – his scar – bared for all to see. He was disheveled, to say the least. And with his scar on display and his sword drawn…

Several ladies looked away in horror, and Aemond knew why – he appeared every bit the monster they all thought him to be.

A flash of Aria’s soft smile when she looked upon his marred face for the first time crossed his vision. You are gorgeous, Aemond. So painfully gorgeous that I cannot stand it.

Yet he could not help but grip his sword tighter, until the skin of his knuckles ached with the effort. He could not stop his scar from burning or the skin surrounding it from twitching. Nor could he stop his stomach from roiling, for despite Aria’s ardent insistence in his continued beauty, he knew that the whispers were true.

To all but his wife, he was hideous – nothing more than a villain and monster.

His despair only deepened when he approached the Great Hall and heard Daemon’s voice carrying beyond the heavily guarded doors and throughout the corridors for all those gathered nearby pretending not to be eavesdropping to hear.

“Arianwyn was distraught,” he boomed, voice wavering with fabricated despair. “It is no wonder why. From the moment we arrived, Prince Aemond never once relented in trying to molest her before our very eyes – ”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by the startled murmurings of the crowd as the One-Eyed Prince, the aspiring molester himself, stormed through their ranks to the still-closed doors, Daemon’s ‘distraught’ daughter close behind. With the steel of his drawn blade flashing in the morning light, they parted for him like stalks of wheat to a raging bull.

Aemond did not wait for the stewards or guards to open the doors, pulling them open himself without a care for their monstrous weight nor their thunderous sound as they again shut behind his wife, mother, and the two Bronze Guard that had followed them in.

The Hand stood before the Iron Throne, the other members of the Small Council and Septon Eustace just below the steps. Rhaenyra and her firstborn bastard stood to the right of the Throne, haughty and presumptuous as ever. A smattering of men from the Kingsguard and various household guards were scattered throughout the hall, eyes darting between each member of the royal family.

Curiously, Helaena was also present. Not truly paying attention, simply standing beneath the column bearing the likeness of Aegon the Conqueror. She gazed out the Eastern windows and watched the rising sun, nothing in her serene face to indicate that she was at all listening to what happened around her.

And Daemon.

Cruel Daemon. Hateful Daemon. Villainous Daemon.

Daemon, who had abandoned Aria before she was even born. Who ignored her for a decade while she had to wonder why she was unworthy of his attention and love. Who had broken her heart the very first time she met him by laughing at her at that damned funeral and saying whatever it was he’d said to her afterward to make her grow up in the span of only a few hours.

Daemon, who had torn them apart when Aemond needed her most. Who had confined her to that horrible island and locked her in that tower. Who had threatened to kill her simply for reuniting with Aemond. Who had nearly followed through on that threat only hours ago, when his hands had left bruises on Aria’s neck.

Daemon, whom Aemond swore he would kill, stood halfway between the dais and the doors, no doubt so his raised voice would carry to the gossipmongers.

Before he could continue his tale, however, the bastard Jacaerys burst from his place by his mother’s side, drawing his own sword and pointing it toward Aemond’s chest.

“Release my sister!” he demanded, despite the fact that Aemond was plainly not holding her hostage.

“I am not your sister!” Aria yelled back.

Aemond said nothing. However, he allowed himself a proud smirk as he raised his own blade in reply.

How dare Jacaerys call her ‘sister?’ What little blood they shared was thin and tainted by his bastard birth. Perhaps if he had been more than Aegon’s boorish toady in their youth or been kinder to Aria on Dragonstone, Aemond would not now be so eager for this fight.

Tilting his head in a silent dare for Jacaerys to make the first move, Aemond could not help but wonder whether the Curse of the Kinslayer applied to bastard nephews.

“Brynna!”

Arianwyn abandoned all her fears and good senses the moment she saw her beloved maid kneeling at the dais steps, pushing past the queen and Aemond. He had reached his offhand out to stop her, but she brushed it aside.

“Take my hand, Arianwyn,” Jace whispered as she passed him.

She did not give him the courtesy of a reply or even a glance at his pleading face.

Daemon glared as she approached, but she did not face him either.

At the base of the Iron Throne, she tripped over the too-long skirts of Alicent’s dress, falling to her knees. She cried without cease as she took in the woman’s wretched state. “Brynna, I’m so sorry.”

A large purple bruise covered most of her face, from her split brow to her bleeding lip. Her nose was broken, still marked with a dried river of blood.

But the worst of it was her hands. Her lithe, nimble hands that had crafted some of the finest dresses in the history of the Seven Kingdoms – including the dress that had become Arianwyn’s wedding gown.

Shattered.

Each finger bent and twisted like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The skin was so red and bruised that Arianwyn could hardly see the countless cuts marking where she had been struck over and over and over again.

Arianwyn knew that while it was not by her own hand, she had done this. By angering her father, by stabbing him. The moment she married Aemond, she made everyone she loved a target for Daemon’s wrath, and he wasted no time claiming his first victim.

“Oh, gods!” She cried, dropping her head to Brynna’s lap as she had not done in years. But she did not care that she was too old to cling to her maid. She just needed her close. As close as possible. “This is all my fault! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Brynna shushed her, but her sobs soon joined Arianwyn’s. She attempted to wrap her arms around her young charge, only getting so far as to rest her forearms on her shoulders.

“It is not your fault,” Brynna whispered, voice hoarse and broken.

Arianwyn did not believe her.

She would beg and beg for forgiveness until her voice gave out. Until her knees bled from kneeling, and her eyes were dry of tears. She would beg until the Mother herself appeared to offer her mercy or until the Stranger took her away – though to the heavens or the hells, she did not know.

Aemond looked from his wife to Daemon and raised his sword level with the villain’s heart as he strode past Jacaerys. The bastard moved to stop him but was pulled back by his mother.

It was Daemon who had done this. He had hurt his wife’s greatest friend. He had made Aria cry. And he would pay for it.

But Daemon paid him no attention. Rather, he sighed and, with an expression of relief to rival the worst mummers in King’s Landing, took a single step toward his daughter. “Aria!” he cried, “How relieved I am to see you unharmed!”

Aria lifted her head from Brynna’s lap to stare at her father, her mouth dropping open as her brows scrunched. Another tear fell down her flushed cheek, and Aemond’s rage burst into a wildfire within him, lashes of hot pain licking at his scar.

She had been harmed, and he was the one who had done it.

“Stay away from my wife,” Aemond growled, circling his new father-by-law until he stood protectively between him and Aria. He could feel his anger hot on his breath and could swear he heard Vhagar roaring in the distance.

“Was it not enough for you to steal my dear Laena’s dragon?” Daemon asked, brow crumpled with false heartache and a voice loud enough to carry beyond the doors. “Now, you must take my firstborn, as well?”

“I have stolen nothing,” Aemond hissed, angling the point of his sword to Daemon’s neck. All it would take was one motion, one cut, and the Rogue Prince would never harm Aria again. “Can you say the same, uncle?”

“Put down your swords!” Otto bellowed from the throne. “There will be no more blood spilled in this hall!”

‘Swords?’ Who – ah. A quick glance revealed that Ser Warren and a man in bronze Aemond had never met stood behind him, scowling while sheathing their swords. But Aemond did not move, save for a twitch of the muscle in his jaw.

Gods, his scar was blazing. It had not hurt like this since the night it was given to him.

“Despite that pin on your breast, Otto, you have no right to rule in this. It is a family matter,” Daemon spat, dropping his besieged father act.

Otto did not yield an inch, speaking with all the authority of the Iron Throne. “Indeed. Concerning my grandson and his new wife. And seeing as how, in his absence, I speak with the voice of the King – your brother and Prince Aemond’s father –I have every right to rule on this family matter. Don’t you agree, Lord Wylde?”

The Master of Laws startled when his name was called, but he quickly collected himself and answered, “Yes, my Lord Hand.”

The only hint of Otto’s smugness was the nearly imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips. “With that matter settled, we can begin. Prince Aemond, I will not repeat myself again. Put. Down. Your. Sword.”

Against all instinct and every nerve in his body, Aemond obeyed. Though he did not sheath the blade nor move away from his wife.

Arianwyn’s tears began anew when Brynna nudged her shoulders, pushing away from her. Was she angry for causing Daemon to hurt her? Or had she inadvertently agitated the wounds he gave her?

Brynna shushed her before she could give voice to either question, her hands coming to cup Arianwyn’s cheeks before she pulled away. “Oh, my Aria. You mustn’t cry. Not now. Not for me.”

“But it’s my fault,” Arianwyn whined.

“No!” Again, she moved to cradle her lady’s head, and again, she pulled back. “It is Daemon’s fault and his alone.”

“But–”

“Hush!” She glanced at the two Bronze Guard who flanked Aemond as they sheathed their swords, then over Arianwyn’s shoulder. “You must be strong now. Can you do that? For me?”

Arianwyn ducked her chin and shook her head, and Brynna finally took hold of her, forcing her eyes to meet hers. Against the purple of her bruises, her brown eyes appeared nearly black. “Start with standing, eh? Come, we’ll both do it. We can help each other.”

Careful to mind the wounds on Brynna’s hands, Arianwyn grasped her elbows as she fought her shaking legs to steady and rise.

She stumbled, and Brynna caught her.

Then Brynna stumbled, and Arianwyn caught her.

They at last found their footing just as Aemond lowered, but did not sheathe, his sword.

The Hand sighed, gesturing to Brynna. “Grand Maester, for the love of the gods, will you please tend to this poor woman?”

Daemon seethed. “That ‘poor woman’ has attacked a Prince of the Realm!”

“I have not!” Brynna shouted.

“She did not!” Arianwyn yelled with such a cold fury that she was sure she bore icy claws. Emrys’ howling echoed through her mind as she pulled away from her maid, only enough to allow Orwyle the access he needed to assess her wounds.

Orwyle examined Brynna quickly, then looked back to Arianwyn and gave a slight, reassuring smile. The same he had given her when he declared that Aemond would survive the loss of his eye.But her heart was hollow, and she could not return the gesture.

Brynna would not recover if she were soon executed.

Once satisfied that Brynna’s wounds were being tended to, Otto lowered himself upon the Iron Throne. “Prince Daemon,” he said, “If you are quite finished with your performance, the Crown will now hear your accusation.”

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek, scowling before he once again painted his face with fatherly concern. “After our family meal last night, I went to check in on Aria. She had been so upset when she left, after seeing her dear brother attacked by none other than the man who had treated her with such vulgarity all evening.”

Arianwyn looked to Aemond, begging with wet eyes for him to speak in his defense. But he only glared at Daemon, hatred painted on every inch of his face. Hatred so bright that, for a moment, it seemed a flame danced within his sapphire.

Unchallenged, Daemon continued. “When I reached her rooms, this woman,” he pointed at Brynna as he spoke, drawing attention to her, “was at the door. She would not allow me entry to my own daughter’s chambers.

“First, she told me that Aria was unwell. Then, that she was asleep. When she had run out of excuses, I demanded she stand aside to let me through. But she would not. So, I went to push past her. That is when she took her shears and did this.” He tossed the bloodstained iron shears to the floor and tore off the linen wrapping around his right hand before raising it above his head for all to see.

The comforting thought of spilling his uncle’s blood was the only thing distracting Aemond from the pain searing through his very skull. Until he revealed his wound, and then his heart flooded with dark pride.

A large gash was visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. As Daemon turned to present his hand to those behind him, Aemond was gratified to see the wound was wide enough for sunlight to shine through the hole. When this was over, he would have to congratulate his wife on a job well done.

“I, of course, was able to subdue her even with the wound, and she quickly revealed the sinister scheme.” Daemon grinned at Aemond as he went on, “The prince here paid her quite handsomely to sneak him into our guest quarters, that he might steal her away for his own. He forced Septon Eustace to wed them. And then, I imagine, he raped her so the marriage could not be dissolved on account of a failed consummation.”

“Lies,” Aemond hissed. But Daemon’s eyes were not on him but on his grandsire.

“An interesting story, my prince,” Otto said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “Though I am afraid I find myself with several questions regarding its details.”

Daemon scowled, unable to hide his disdain for the man. “And what, pray tell, are your questions?”

“I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you? With Prince Aemond’s behavior at dinner.” Otto raised an eyebrow, the only hint of his confidence. “You see, my prince, I was seated closer to him and Arianwyn than you were, and yet I saw no such evidence of molestation, attempted or otherwise.”

When Daemon opened his mouth to counter him, the Hand continued, “Though I may be mistaken. Perhaps we should ask the Princess Helaena, who was herself seated at Arianwyn’s side, what she saw?”

Daemon scowled but did not object.

“My sweet girl,” Alicent said from where she now stood with her daughter. “can you tell us what you saw between Aemond and Arianwyn at dinner last night?”

Helaena, emerging from her haze, glanced between her brother and his wife. “I saw love, gentle and true. As it has always been.” The princess smiled proudly for a moment, but it faded as a shadow passed over her eyes. “Shattered glass,” she murmured, “Silver shards sharper than a broken blade.”

Not even Daemon had a clever answer for the seemingly meaningless words.

In the silence that followed Helaena’s declaration, Arianwyn looked closely at her cousin as the fog cleared from her lilac eyes. At the dinner, she had said something about a cloak – a white cloak – in the moonlight. Had she somehow known?

Otto gave a soft thanks to his granddaughter, who then turned and simply left the Throne Room, before turning back to his rival. “But these are the small details of your tale, Prince Daemon. Indeed, they may be crucial to its veracity, but whether or not a lady was molested can be quite easily mistaken by even the most perceptive among us.”

Lord Wylde failed to conceal his chuckle.

“Let us focus instead on the larger picture,” Otto said. “For that, it seems we are missing the most important testimony. Lady Arianwyn?” He tipped his chin to her, and she was surprised to find reassurance in the gesture. “Please tell us what happened – but speak only the truth.”

The words echoed those that she heard once before, long ago, and brought Arianwyn back to the Throne Room on Driftmark. She was kneeling at Aemond’s side, pressing kisses to his trembling hand only moments after his eye was taken. She could feel Rhaena’s nails scratching her skin, the heat of Aemond’s fresh blood flowing through her fingers, and her aching chest wheezing for breath. She was drowning in desperation as she begged the king to believe her tale.

How had it come to this again?

“Aemond has done nothing untoward,” she declared, though her voice wavered. “Nor has Brynna. But the prince and I are indeed wed, and our union has been consummated – willingly.” She took a moment to steady herself and stepped towards Aemond, lacing her fingers through his. He startled at the touch, for she had approached him from the left. But he relaxed only a heartbeat later, finally sheathing his sword.

“Septon Eustace can attest to the veracity of the marriage,” she said, looking only at her husband. “My household guard, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Ser Criston Cole all bore witness. Orwyle is welcome to inspect our bedchamber to confirm the consummation.”

When Daemon scoffed, Otto held up a hand to silence him. The prince looked for a moment as though he might argue, but he was pulled back by his wife taking his hand. Rhaenyra gave him a stern look, whispered something in his ear, and he stilled.

“My dear, why wed in such haste? And in near complete secrecy?” Otto asked.

Arianwyn considered her words carefully. She knew Otto wanted her to tell the court everything – but he could not possibly know what he was asking.

With Brynna hurt and her marriage so publicly questioned, she dared not invoke more of Daemon’s wrath. Someday, he would pay for his crimes. But today, all Arianwyn wanted was to free her maid and remain by her husband’s side.

Vengence could come later.

“Aemond and I have been in love these many long years, even when separated,” she said. The truth, even if she had only just learned it. “We did not want to wait any longer for our families to negotiate a marriage contract or allow them to promise us to anyone else.”

That was a lie. But judging by the faces of the Small Council, it was at least a good one.

“I apologize for any pain our impatience has caused,” Arianwyn continued, inclining her head toward Alicent. “We have deprived our family of seeing us wed and all the celebration that comes with it. We married out of love, my Lord Hand. There is no more to say than that.”

The Hand again smiled at her, “Thank you, Arianwyn.”

She began to curtsy, but Aemond held her still. “You are wife to a prince,” he murmured, “You need not bow to him anymore.”

“Eustace,” Otto said, facing the man, “You performed the marriage?”

The Septon nodded. “I did, my Lord Hand.”

“And did the Lady Arianwyn show any reticence during the ceremony? Did she appear nervous or afraid?”

“No, my Lord Hand,” Eustace replied. “She was as happy as any bride I have ever seen. Happier, perhaps.”

Arianwyn blushed, squeezing Aemond’s hand. He tensed, then returned the gesture.

“Grand Maester,” Otto now plainly smiled as he turned to Orwyle, “can you indeed confirm the consummation?”

“I can do so now, if you think it necessary, my Lord Hand.”

“Thank you, but there is no need for haste. Can anyone else attest to the veracity of the marriage? Were there witnesses?”

Arianwyn’s heart soared as Sers Warren, Rolan, and Criston answered.

“Yes, lord.”

“Me, my lord.

“I would swear my sword to it.”

“I thank you, Sers, but I wager that will not be necessary.” Otto finally smiled as he swept his eyes past Arianwyn to his grandson. “Prince Aemond, is there anything you should like to say to the court?”

Aemond finally tore his eye away from Daemon, gaze softening as he looked upon Aria’s beautiful, hopeful face.

There was much he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell the whole court – the whole world – of Daemon’s crimes. He wanted to see him arrested and face the Father’s justice. And when he was executed, he wanted to be the one to swing the sword.

But Aria saw it all on his face, every sinful thought he had. She pulled him towards her, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and shook her head.

“No,” Aemond sighed. “Only that everything my wife has said is the truth.”

The Hand turned back to Daemon, “Well, my prince. It seems that the matter is settled. But there is still the question of your wound. Would you care to offer another explanation as to how you were injured?”

The Rogue Prince was practically steaming with rage. The sight awoke sinister pleasure within Aemond’s heart. He was about to retort, to mock his failure, when Aria released his hand.

She said nothing but pulled slightly on the end of the fur stole she wore so it fell just enough to expose her bruises, now clearly in the shape of a hand, but only to Daemon, his wife, and her bastard son.

Jacaerys gaped, looking as if he might cry. Rhaenyra looked shocked for a moment, then hissed something in Daemon’s ear as his face went as red as their house's sigil. Another hiss and he visibly forced the appearance of composure.

“No,” he bit out. “Seems it was an accident.”

Aria laughed – a light, blithe chuckle – wholly out of place at such a solemn occasion. But to Aemond, there was no sound more beautiful.

His wife may have silver eyes, but she was undoubtedly a dragon.

On the Iron Throne, Otto grinned. “An accident? What sort of accident?”

Daemon only sneered before Rhaenyra stepped in front of him, cutting off whatever biting remark he surely had planned.

“I think we have heard more than enough,” she said, the same forced diplomacy in her voice as the night before. “I suggest, my Lord Hand, that we dismiss this matter entirely as the unfortunate result of a father’s desire to protect his daughter and an excess of wine at dinner.”

Otto nodded, content in his victory.

“Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, “please take the lady Brynna to your tower and give her your greatest care. Dear lady, you have the sincere apology of the Crown, as well as my assurance that you will be compensated for your troubles.”

“Thank you, my Lord Hand.” With the aid of the Maester, Brynna stood and curtseyed. Then, as she was led out of the Throne Room, she flashed a quick grin at Aria, who slumped against Aemond in relief.

Wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, he used his free hand to fasten the stole once more. He let his fingers linger on her throat, focused on the feel of her pulse slowing, the pain in his face fading with each beat of her heart.

The moment the doors – those on the side of the hall, to avoid the crowd – closed behind Orwyle and Brynna, Rhaenyra stepped forward. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. I thank you for your hospitality. But I think it time we take our leave.”

“We hope to see you again soon, Princess,” Alicent replied.

Otto leaned forward. “If you would stay just a moment, we may announce the marriage to the court.” He gave a gesture to a guard to open the main doors once more. “After all, Lady Arianwyn is your firstborn.”

The crowd poured into the Throne Room before either Daemon or Rhaenyra could argue against it.

Aemond took a moment to savor the look of defeat on Daemon’s face and vowed that he would see it again.

On the day he killed him.

I came so close to using this bc Jace's face is just hilarious, but the Daemon pic is more fitting.

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[little-diable]

Shattered Glass - Charlie Swan (smut)

This is somewhat similar to my Jasper story "Waves cover up what I've done" but with a focus on Charlie this time. Paired with the lyrics of the song "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She finally had enough. She snapped, she killed her abusive husband before her mind could pick up on what her body had done. Or: When Charlie Swan helps dispose of a body

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, murder, blood, abusive husband, very loving relationship with Charlie (2.7k words)

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem!reader

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

"The problem is all inside your head," she said to me. "The answer is easy if you take it logically. I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free. There must be fifty ways to leave your lover"

“Fuck.” The word rolled off (y/n)’s tongue, hands wiping away the drops of sweat pearling on her forehead. She was heavily breathing, forcing her body to stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. Her eyes didn’t dare leave his frame, staring down on the lifeless body of her husband. “I should cut you up and dump you in the ocean, you fucking asshole.” 

The curses left (y/n) as if her dead husband could still hear her, forcing tears to well up in her eyes as her mind slowly caught up with what she had done with her bare hands. The broken bottle was lying to her feet, covered in blood, just like his neck. She could still hear his screams, how he had called out for help, followed by slurs (y/n) could no longer remember. 

It had felt as if the coil had snapped, as if the timer had run out, finally setting off the bomb. Her body had moved without thinking twice, reaching for the sharp neck of the glass bottle he had thrown at her. She still wondered where her strength had come from, allowing her to push him down the stairs before she followed him down, taking one step at a time. Deep down she had felt a sick sense of satisfaction, listening to his whines, to his begging, asking her to spare his life. He had touched her one too many times without her consent, had struck her across her face too many times to count, allowing her to finally set herself free. 

The sharp edge of the broken bottle had cut through his skin almost too easily, forcing his red blood to gush from his neck, pouring out of the wound like an avalanche rolling down a hill, burying their life together six feet under. She was free, finally, almost – at least not fully just yet, needing to get rid of his body before anybody could stumble upon her bloody carpet, her bloody clothes, and his blood covered body. 

Her eyes flickered to the window of their entrance hall, it was dark outside, completely dark. She’ll have to move quickly, pushing his heavy body into the trunk of her pick-up, hidden beneath whatever she could find to cover his corpse. “Fuck, I hope you rot in hell.”

(Y/n) opened the entrance door of their home, checking her surroundings one more time before she grasped his shoulders, pulling him out of the house. She didn’t focus on the bloody trail she was leaving on the dark stones outside, didn’t worry about the “what if’s”, all (y/n) could focus on was the burning of her arms, not used to carrying something this heavy. The body was placed on the ground as she opened her trunk, praying to whoever was listening that she’d manage to heave him into her car. 

With a deep breath inhaled into her aching lungs, (y/n) tugged on his shoulders, managing to roll him into the car, upper body followed by his heavy legs. Sweat was covering her body, and yet she didn’t pay the running drops any mind, wiping them away with her bloody hands before she started to cover his body. The car was locked moments later, legs carrying her back inside, straight to her bathroom. She couldn’t risk being seen like this, couldn’t risk driving past people with blood sticking to her face and arms, with blood seeping through her clothes, fabrics she’d have to burn later that night. 

The warm water cascaded down her back, and finally it began to dawn on her what had happened in the past hour. A sob clawed through her, hand darting out to cover her mouth, trying to keep the sounds from leaving her as if she was scared somebody would pick up on the mess she was stuck in. Fuck, what had she done? She could have disappeared, could have packed her bags and left Forks behind, but the terror he had unleashed upon her had been too much, it’d haunt her till the end of her life. 

She said, "It grieves me so to see you in such pain. I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again." I said "I appreciate that, and would you please explain about the 50 ways?"

Exhaustion clung to her body as (y/n) drove through the forest, trying to find a good spot she could use to get rid of the body, wondering if she could stage an accident. Her husband had been a passionate hunter, perhaps he had been attacked by an animal? Perhaps he had been distracted, not noticing the creature moving closer? One scenario after another began to fill her thoughts, hoping that she could pull off the role of a grieving wife, crying about her husband’s death.

Before (y/n) could try to come up with another somewhat believable scenario, her eyes found a car in the distance, blue lights flickering in the darkness. She tried to slow down, though before (y/n) could turn around, driving back towards the city, her eyes met Charlie Swan’s dark ones. Curses left her as she stopped the car, watching the handsome chief move closer, hands placed on his hips. 

“Everything alright, Charlie?” A smile tugged on her lips as she spoke to him, instantly picking up on the curious gaze he shot her. The two had been friends for years, sharing stories and memories whenever their paths crossed, relishing in one another’s company. Deep down both knew that they’d give into the pull inside their chests if she wasn’t married, searching one another’s body at any given chance. 

“We’re checking all cars leaving Forks, we aren’t sure what’s happening at the moment, another body turned up. Would you mind stepping out of the car for a moment, sweetheart?” Heat flushed through her at the nickname he always used on her, enjoying the way she tensed in her seat, eyes momentarily avoiding his. (Y/n) needed a few seconds to snap into motion, heart pounding in her chest at the mere thought of Charlie opening her trunk. He opened the car door for her, smiling at the trembling woman before he directed his fleshlight onto her car. 

Charlie started moving, with (y/n) frozen to her spot, not daring to move. “So, what are you looking for?” Perhaps she could distract him. Perhaps she could force the man to focus on her, instead of on her car. But Charlie didn’t reply, eyes focusing on the back of her pick-up, no longer moving away from the spot he was now standing on. No words left his thin lips as he opened her trunk, eyes momentarily flickering towards her frame, meeting her dilated pupils. 

“Tell me, (y/n), what will I find beneath those blankets?” His voice was emotionless, not giving away what he was feeling. She stumbled over her reply, unable to think straight, trying to find something she could use to explain the mess that now threatened to drown her, pulled under without any air lingering inside her lungs. “Why is there blood on your car?”

A sob clawed through her, unable to keep her cries bottled in, giving into the tears wanting to roll down her cheeks. “Oh, (y/n). What have you done?” 

I realized she probably was right, there must be fifty ways to leave your lover, fifty ways to leave your lover

“Alright, it’s done. I’ll follow you back home.” Charlie walked past her, without looking back once. No longer was the light of his fleshlight illuminating their surroundings, no longer was he looking at her with that unreadable gaze of his. She murmured his name, forcing the chief to halt in his step, slowly turning back towards her. (Y/n) moved closer, taking cautious steps, till she came to a halt in front of the man. Without speaking another word, (y/n) wrapped her arms around his middle, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. 

“Thank you.” The words were swallowed by the sigh leaving the man, arms slowly wrapping themselves around her, keeping (y/n) close. He covered the back of her head with one hand, cradling the crying woman, not daring to let her go just yet. Charlie pressed a kiss to her scalp before he pulled her away, cupping her warm cheeks with his cold hands. 

“Your husband was awful, we all knew. I was trying to find something to use against him, anything to free you from him. What you did wasn’t right, what I did just now wasn’t right. But nobody will hear of what we just did. Tomorrow morning you will come visit me at the station, with tears in your eyes you’ll tell me about his disappearance, and we will start the search. Eventually we’ll give up, because there are no traces left, nothing that can tell us about his whereabouts. Do you hear me?” She nodded her head, unable to speak another word as her gaze found its way to his lips. For the first time since crossing paths with Charlie, (y/n) felt as if she was allowed to give into her longing, the pull she felt inside.

A chuckle rumbled through Charlie, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and murmured a soft “We’ll have to take care of your house first”. He left her standing, walking to his car with a smile tugging on his lips, a smile that now matched hers, allowing (y/n) to let go of the tension buzzing through her system, thoughts starting to wander on the drive back to her home.

The moon was hidden behind the thick clouds hanging over Forks like a veil covering a crying bride, allowing Charlie and (y/n) to take care of the traces she had left outside her door, grateful that no neighbours were living close by, giving the two enough time to wash away the blood, to burn her clothes, and the carpet. 

“I am forever grateful for you, Charlie.” Her whispers filled her now quiet home. (Y/n) couldn’t remember a day where her house had been that silent, not filled with the sounds of the running TV, of her drunk husband. Her heart clenched in her chest, though not because of pain, of regret, or because of guilt, no, but because she could now finally start a new life. 

“I am glad you’re okay, that’s all I kept worrying about.” His murmurs left her smiling, searching his closeness once again. This time Charlie didn’t pull away, allowing (y/n) to slowly close the gap between them, lips meeting his soft ones. The two gave themselves enough time to get used to the unfamiliar touch, to the new sensation, hands finding the right spots to hold onto one another. 

“Are you sure about this? You had a rough night, I don’t want to pre-”, Charlie was interrupted by the kiss (y/n) pressed against his lips, feeling his moustache burn her skin, leaving her aching for more. His rough chuckles vibrated on her skin, hands tugging on the shirt she was wearing, exposing her bra-clad chest to his dark eyes. “So beautiful, I promise to take good care of you, I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know, Charlie.” She could tell that he was pained by the mere thought of seeing her hurt again, not wanting (y/n) to live through another trauma ever again. (Y/n) interlaced her fingers with his, pulling Charlie through her home to her bedroom, silently thanking the spirits above that her husband hadn’t shared the bed with her in months. It was time for new memories, new moments to forget about old ones. Their eyes kept meeting as she helped him out of his uniform, hands wandering up and down his upper body, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin pressing against her palms and fingertips. “I need to feel you, that’s all I want for now.”

Charlie gave himself a few moments before he nodded his head, making a silent promise that he’d find shelter with his head buried between her thighs tomorrow morning. All it took was a gentle push for (y/n) to land on the mattress, shuffling out of her underwear as Charlie stepped out of his boxers. His cock was twitching in anticipation, begging to be touched, wanting to feel her wrapped around him, needs she’d fulfil in the upcoming hours. 

(Y/n) reached for her bedside table, ripping the silvery foil packet open with her teeth, crawling closer to Charlie to roll the condom down his cock. His breath hitched in his chest as she touched him, wordlessly promising him that this was real, that this was really just about to happen. Their lips met for another kiss before (y/n) found rest on her bed with her back pressed against the mattress, arms slung around Charlie’s neck, keeping him close.

Warm fingers found her heat, exploring her aching cunt for a few moments, rubbing her pulsing bundle, brushing through her slit. Once again he asked her if she truly wanted this, without any words, just silent gestures and glances that managed to communicate their every thought. She wrapped her legs around his waist, set on keeping him close as Charlie slowly entered her, spreading her walls with his twitching cock. 

Both needed to hold their breaths for a few seconds, adjusting to the new sensation, growing used to feeling one another this close. The moment had something awfully loving to it, a moment both hadn’t experienced in years, once again reminded that they should have found one another far earlier. 

“Move, please.” Her whimpers were swallowed by his kisses, distracting (y/n) for a moment as he started snapping his hips, burying his cock deep inside her tightness with every thrust. (Y/n) choked on her gasps, walls clenching his cock, needing to feel him as close as humanly possible. Her arousal soaked his cock, producing sounds Charlie would think of for weeks to come. 

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good, so good.” Charlie kept praising her, staring down on her with so much love swimming in his pupils, an emotion (y/n) was no longer used to. Her heart swelled in her chest as she began to realise that she finally got her chance to be loved like she desperately wanted to be loved, held close by a man that would cherish her.

His calloused thumb found her clit, pushing her even closer to the edge with a smirk tugging on his lips, feeling her walls flutter around his cock. Both were close, ready to let go to start their new life together, heralding a new beginning without any sorrows, without any fear. 

“Cum for me, let go with me.” His raspy words left her moaning, eyes squeezed shut to let go, curling her toes as her legs tightened their grip on his waist. Charlie kept thrusting into her, fucking them through their highs before the feeling let go of them, allowing the two to breathe through the adrenaline pumping through their veins like whisky, a substance so fiery and yet so smooth. 

Their bodies found rest next to one another, cherishing the silence they were engulfed by, allowing them to sort through their thoughts. Without speaking up, (y/n) reached for his hand, holding him close as a smile tugged on her lips. Everything will end well, if she could keep him close, and if he’d let her in. 

She said, "Why don't we both just sleep on it tonight, and I believe in the morning, you'll begin to see the light" and then she kissed me, and I realized she probably was right, there must be fifty ways to leave your lover, fifty ways to leave your lover

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

dedicated to— well, to anyone who’s unfortunate enough to understand.

In My Darkest Hour - Megadeth // Long-term nuclear waste warning messages - Wikipedia // King Nothing - Metallica // TSBC7 (2013) - Jordan Eagles // LIKE YXU WXULD KNXW - Corpse Husband, Kordhell, Scarlxrd // Tumblr Header - @manywinged // King Nothing - Metallica // a poem that I’ll never write // Untitled - @inkskinned

[kissandkilll]

it's been a while hasn't it? Made this like two mins ago. I don't own the fanart of corpse, but if you use, please credit @petrovahknight on twitter

[corpse-husband-simp]

hi! i just wanted to say i think your header is really cool and i love it!! :D

Thank you lovie 🥺 <3 i Got it from @corpsegraham on Twitter :)

[inosukew]

CHOKE ME LIKE U HATE ME, BUT U LOVE ME, LOWKEY WANNA DATE ME-

[punzsapling]

tinakitten layout :3

[kenmvz]

༉ 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 .

• like and rb if you save!

[ghostieking]

chicken wing, chicken wing ♫

pls like/reblog if you are going to save or use it <3

[szturnz]

corpse husband headers pls?

Corpse Husband Tweets. Corpse Husband Headers.

🧷• please, like or reblog if u save.

[wedreamimpossibilities]

Hey corpse husband tumblr! I made some corpse inspired twitter headers that I wanted to share here. Corpse has inspired some creativity and I am so thankful for finding him this past year. Follow me on twitter if you want to be Corpse mutuals: https://twitter.com/chancesides?s=21

[foolishgamers]

my favorite kind of aesthetic !!

i love corpse’s new music video for fuk u lol. the vibes in it are truly immaculate

[little-diable]

Across All Seven Seas - Chapter Two

Please for the love of me, if you enjoy reading this, like and reblog - leave some feedback. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Wanna try another taglist, so if you want to be tagged in this, message me.

Summary: The reader is sentenced to death, her executor has grown to like the woman he fucks in the depth of the night. What will happen when she reveals her motive for killing her husband, will Jasper still drag her out to the place of her execution or will he help her make it out of the dungeon?

Chapter Warnings: 18+, manhandling, talks of execution, murder, blood, blowjob

Written in (y/n)’s pov if not stated otherwise

Part One Part Three

Series Masterlist

header by @hidingsikki

Sleep hadn’t come easy that night, the scratchy fabric that was supposed to keep her somewhat warm had done a poor job. She had been shivering like the corpses being tossed to the floor outside the city wall, reeking of death, just like her cell. Her mind would take her back to her daughter, the cries that had tumbled out of the girl's mouth as her mother had forced her out of their house.

(Y/n) could only pray that one day her daughter would forgive her for the things she had done. No Christian woman, but the devil’s advocate.

Whenever another door would fall open, her eyes would frantically search for Jasper, wondering if it was finally time to flee from this cursed place, the island she had always called her home. It would take them quite a while to make it through the forest, carrying them straight to the shoreline. She hoped that Jasper had a boat, a raft, anything that would gently support their weight till they reached the mainland.

As she had been a mere child, (y/n) had tried to imagine what the land on the other side of the ocean would look like, if the people were like her, if the food tasted the same, if their king was as cruel as hers. Till today she hadn’t found anybody to answer the questions she kept herself busy with, a hopeless dream that now suddenly was turning real.

But Jasper didn’t return, not even as the setting sun painted the sky red. No matter how many times she’d count her breaths, hoping that the distraction would make time pass by faster, there was no sight of the man that was supposed to be her hero. Had he played a trick on her? Had he been lying to her about his plan?

She should have known better than to trust a man that only fucks her to get his fill, he was an executor, no saint, no man of honour. He was just as awful as all those men kept in the dungeons - criminals, nothing more. The sound of heavy steps nearing echoed through the halls, she could hear chatter filling the evening air, a crowd had formed around the execution place, waiting for her to be brought up the wooden plateau, wood that would soon turn red.

“Onto your feet,” the man spoke, she had never heard his voice before. Realization was settling in, crashing into her body like the wind howling through the night, he wasn’t here. Jasper wouldn’t save her from death, was probably already waiting with his sword pressed against his palm, prepared to behead the female murderer. Chills ran down her spine as the stranger grasped her arm, pulling her out of her cell with too much force, making her fall to the ground with a cry ripping through her.

The man only laughed at her as he forced her to her feet with his hand buried in her hair, tugging on her roots, abusing her as if she was a piece of meat. (Y/n) knew that there was no use in struggling against his grasp, she didn’t want to risk being killed by him, wanted to look into Jasper’s eyes, the traitor she foolishly had trusted.

With her feet scratching against the ground, he pulled her towards the heavy door, pushing it open, though as his eyes fell upon the man in front of him he froze. Jasper. He carried his sword in his right hand, had the other one pressed to his side, patiently waiting for the man to say something, “I was about to bring her to you.”

Jasper didn’t reply, his eyes found (y/n)’s, silently telling her to prepare herself to run. A scream sputtered out of her as Jasper’s sword pierced through the man's chest, splatters of blood painted her muddy dress red. She couldn’t move, feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide as Jasper grasped her hand, pulling her along with him.

Neither of them dared to speak a word, not wanting to attract any attention, soon enough guards would make their way through the castle, trying to find the two fugitives. Jasper knew the castle like the back of his hand, every hidden spot was known to him, but now, with his heart racing, he no longer could remember the spots that may save their lives.

He pulled her through hallways, double checking every single one of them before rounding yet another corner. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding, blood rushing in her ear, forcing her to rely on Jasper, no longer able to focus on her surroundings. Her body bumped into his back, he turned towards her, hand clamping down on her mouth as he pulled her into a dark corner.

Steps were nearing, metallic steps, which could only mean that the guards were hunting them down, ready to kill the two that went against their king. She had to squeeze her eyes shut, otherwise (y/n) would give into the anxiety that was flooding through her like the blood that had gushed out of the man’s chest.

Only as the guard passed the two, leaving the hallway, Jasper dared to let go of her, golden eyes found hers, wordlessly making sure that she was alright. With the nod of her head, she allowed him to pull her along once again, her naked feet met the stone ground, not sparing any mind to the worries of having to run through a forest with bare feet.

Judging from the smell that streamed up her nostrils, (y/n) could only guess that they were nearing the kitchen. She slowed down, not trusting the direction he was pulling her into. Was this a test? Was he still playing for the king? Trying to see if the woman would dare to flee from her almighty ruler?

“Don’t fight me, we are almost out of the castle,” as if he could read her thoughts Jasper cradled her face in his hands. For the first time since their paths have crossed she could clearly see his features, the handsome face that was facing hers. He must have been as old as her, no scars littered his face, the plush lips he would press against her skin.

(Y/n) couldn’t fight against her instincts, she shifted her weight onto her toes, lips meeting his for a fleeting kiss, “Take me away from here.”

The kitchen was empty as they stepped into it, not wasting any time with admiring the foods that have been prepared for the king’s meal, celebrating yet another successful execution. Fresh air clashed against their bodies, the moon was standing high, guiding them towards the forest, hiding the two in its shadow.

As they disappeared between the thick trees, their pace began to slow down, till they came to a halt. Jasper’s eyes tried to comb through the darkness, waiting to hear if any guards were near - nothing but the owl's cries were hallowing through the air. From the distance they could see torches alighting the insides of the castles, the guards wouldn’t rest till they found the two.

“I thought you left me there to die,” the confession flooded from her lips, eyes following his gaze. Only as Jasper reached for her jaw, pulling her face towards him, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, “I promised that I would help you out of there. I would never break an oath like that.”

Once again their lips met, sharing a hungry kiss, letting go of all their pent up frustration, the crippling fear that had plagued (y/n). Her hands grasped the linen fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him even closer, “Come, we can’t lose any more time, I want to reach the ocean by sunrise.”

The scent of the forest seemed unfamiliar to her, reminding (y/n) of times no living man had been fortunate enough to live through, her bare feet could feel the wooden ground beneath them, moss was growing on the trail, moss that grew warmer with every step she was taking. Her hands longed to touch the white flowers she could see growing in the distance but the calling of her name forced her to keep up with his pace.

As the sound of horses neighing in the distance found the two, they momentarily faltered in their step, guards were getting closer, following them into the dark forest, “Run.” Jasper urgently pushed her forwards, trotting behind her. Her hands had to lift her dress off the ground, body no longer able to keep her fast pace, she had been locked in her cell for too long, no stamina left to carry her through the night.

“I can’t,” her throat burned, just like her eyes, tears glistened on her cheeks, tears of fear and exhaustion. “You have to, we can’t rest.”

But Jasper seemed to realize soon enough that (y/n) couldn’t make it without giving her feet a few hours to recover. They had to find shelter, had to hide, using the forest to their advantage, at least as long as darkness was their friend. He tugged her into the thicket, careful not to step onto any wood that would hurt her, they couldn’t risk (y/n) scratching open her skin, attracting the predators near.

No longer could they hear the guards nor their horses, but the false sense of comfort that stretched itself through (y/n)’s body soon was ripped away from her as rain began to fall from the sky. Within a few moments her dress was soaked through, hair clinging to her features, washing away the mud and blood that had been sticking to her skin for days.

“We should be safe here, try to rest, I will stay awake.” His words were short and clipped, clearly annoyed by the interruption of the weather. The trees did little to protect the two, not making it easy for (y/n) to find any sleep. She was desperate for any kind of distraction, body aching to be touched. Her hands danced up his thigh, eyes watching his every move. Jasper was sitting next to her, legs stretched away from him, giving the kneeling woman enough space to reach his crotch.

“Let me thank you for helping me,” her sultry voice got drowned out by the clashing rain, but the way his body reacted to her touch seemed to push her further against him. Skillfully she undid his pants, pulling his hardening cock out, hand wrapped around his girth, “We shouldn’t.” Jasper’s words got stuck in his throat as she stroked her thumb over the tip of his cock, scooping up his drops of precum.

“Fuck,” (y/n) wanted to scold him for cursing, but the sight of Jasper pulling his lip between his teeth silenced her, making her cunt flutter in anticipation. She wanted to feel his tongue between her folds, how she had imagined him to taste her, something her husband had never done to her, only set on his own pleasure. Jasper couldn’t stop his hand from reaching for her scalp, pushing her head towards his cock, silently asking (y/n) to wrap her lips around him.

A surprised groan left the man as her wet tongue brushed along his sensitive skin, his musky smell tangled itself around her body, he was pulling her into him. Jasper was glad for the darkness, not even the moon managed to break through the thick forest, keeping the sight of his blushing cheeks from her. (Y/n) tried to take all of him, choking on his cock with her hands placed on his thighs, keeping her balance.

Her muscles ached, begging her to stretch, to rest till they’d leave their camp, but the sound of his silent moans distracted her from the uncomfortable feeling. God wouldn’t be proud of the young woman, but at that moment (y/n) didn’t even care if he’d let her into his realm, to pass the pearly gates the bible had told her about. It was Jasper and her, against the rest of the world.

Jasper’s grip on her tightened, cock twitching inside her mouth, ready to fill her cheeks with his cum. (Y/n) stayed put, greedily waiting for his orgasm to clash through him, like the waves they’d soon find themselves hostage of. His moans had to be silenced by his hand, covering his mouth as his eyes fluttered shut. She swallowed every drop of his release, letting go of him while his cock began to soften.

Just as Jasper wanted to return the favour, hand pushing her back into the soft moss the sound of a horse pawing the ground ripped them apart. “They should be close,” the words hallowed through the forest, reaching the panting couple, forcing them onto their feet, “We have to run, follow me.”

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

[euphoniumpets]

Baby Bump | Corpse Husband x reader

Summary: In which, Corpse can’t keep his hands off from your baby bump. 

A/N: this is the small fic that i had posted on my blog before. Hope y’all like this one. I thought write a headcanon about this one but then, i changed my mind to write a small blurb about this one. anyway, enjoy this! Also, I had some problems tagging and i don’t know why i can’t tag you! and, this lovely header is made by @impala-1979​  💓 go and follow her blog because it is amazing. Hope it was okay to use this one. 

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Taglist: @toasted-crispy-emo27 @weallneednamjesus @chanelle-jackson​

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy. 

‘‘Please, y/n?’‘

Corpse begged you to sit on his lap while he was going to play Among Us with the rest of his friends. You sighed with annoyance since you knew that he was a stubborn arse. 

Ever since you had announced that you were pregnant to your husband, he couldn’t be more thrilled. He was of course afraid that he would mess up and that he wasn’t gonna be a good father. But you knew deep down that he was going to be the best father that you loved. 

You had announced your pregnancy first to your friends and family, and they supported both of you. Especially when Felix, and Sean couldn’t keep their mouth shut or when they couldn’t stop fighting against each other that you guys were gonna name the baby Felix or Sean. 

Then you took the next big step. It had been a nervous state wher eyou and Corpse decided to announce that you were pregnant to his followers. You were just a normal girl where Corpse had met and then he had fell in love and got married. But Corpse was a public faceless person and he had some good and bad fans. 

Who knew what could happen when the whole world was gonna know that you were pregnant 

But surprisingly, they took it well, well, some of them. 

‘‘You know that it would calm my nerves besides, I think that our baby is missing his daddy,’‘ He replied as he approached you as he placed his hand on your stomach. The baby felt his father place his hand as you felt him kick. You rolled your eyes. 

‘‘I told ya,’‘ He told you with a smirk on his face. ‘‘Alright, Fine,’‘ You sighed in annoyance. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. 

‘‘Oh, shush, I know you love it anyway,’‘ He said as you followed him to his gaming room. You let out a sigh as you sat on his lap while he was preparing his stream. 

You sat comfortable in his lap as you leaned into your body with his. He pressed a kiss on the side of your head while he had his right arm on the stomach. 

‘‘Corpse! My man, how is baby Felix Jr?’‘ You heard Felix greet him on the discord call. You saw out of the corner of your eye that Sean, Toast, Poki, Lily, Rae, and Greaseball. 

‘‘Hey, back off, mate, his name is Sean Jr, asshole,’‘ Sean sassed back. You rolled your eyes.

‘‘Hey, no swearing in front of the baby,’‘ You said as you made your presence known. 

‘‘Sorry, mom.’‘ They said in unison. 

‘‘Where is Sykkuno?’‘ Corpse asked them as he noticed that they were missing them. Everybody was already there except for Sykkuno. 

‘‘Aww, Corpse, are you missing your husband?’‘ Rae teased him as you chuckled while you knew that he rolled his eyes. 

‘‘Hi, guys,’‘ Sykkuno’s voice came in. ‘‘Sorry I’m late,’‘

‘‘It’s okay, mate,’‘

The game started and you stared at Corpse’s computer as you saw the red bold text in front of you. You watched as he killed Sykkuno and then Lily as he went towards the Electrical area where you saw Felix and Sean was there. 

Suddenly, a body was found.

The others started to argue about who’s the imposter. Corpse had his mic unmuted but his attention was on you. He was in love with your big baby bump and he also loved when it grew bigger every day. 

Whenever something it would make him nervous he would often stroke his thumb against your belly. It would calm his nerves down and he would smile when the baby would respond to his touch. 

However, the others did not had their suspicion on Corpse. 

You pouted because you were feeling hungry and you silently hoped that Corpse would let you go. ‘’Babe, I’m hungry,’’ You replied as he chuckled and kissed on your head.

‘‘Fine,’‘ He whined. You kissed him on the lips before you patted him on the head as you made your way to the kitchen. As you were minding your own buisness, you started to feel some light cramps in your stomach.

You thought it was nothing as you shrugged it off before you felt something wet. You widened your eyes before you let out a small groan as you made your way back towards Corpse’s room. 

‘‘Uh... Babe?’‘ You asked as you leaned with your arm towards the door frame. Corpse turned around as he took off his headphones. 

‘‘The water just broke,’‘ 

[idv-sunsxin3]

may I ask you for general melly plinius relationship hcs?

Melly Plinius Relationship HCs

Header source via Identity V Official Twitter

{Scenarious/Headcanons}

Gender Neutral! S/O

___

In order to be in a relationship with Melly, she has to know that you are the type of person who won’t focus on a person’s appearance- Nor try to compliment their physical appearance merely to flatter them or do it out of pity.

Being Melly’s lover means that she respects you just as how you respect her interests, her goals, and her abilities.

You must be mature and wise enough to talk to her, or be humorous and clever in a pure, pleasant way.

The entomologist is not the kind of lady who would reveal a lot of intimate PDA, but she won’t mind if you start the hugs and the lingering kisses in public. ♥️

Melly enjoys to stay in quiet places where there are plants and insects nearby.

So the majority of your dates and hangouts consist on doing outdoor activities.

She loves it when you join her to have a quiet moment as well.

You both have some kinds of sitting positions for certain areas you sit in.

When she sits under a tree while reading, you would sometimes lay on her lap to take a nap/while talking to her or lay on her shoulder to read what she’s reading.

When you sit on grass with nothing to lay on, Melly would use your back to lean on with hers to have a comfortable sitting angle as she reads. You do the same to her 🥺✨

You often sit next to each other and hold hands on top of the table. She often likes to squish your hand lightly, in hopes that you’ll escape safely at the end.

If you both have to sit separately, that’s alright! That way, she would watch over you from her sit as you become distracted by the strange, spider-like creature from the window.

She sometimes sends you a butterfly or two towards where you seat as a way to wish you good luck.

Melly doesn’t often talk about her studies to anyone, besides her former husband.

After few months of talking to you about insects, she starts to sound much happier and livelier, as she tries to find more flying creatures in the garden.

I swear, the way she talks about bees, butterflies, and ladybugs is very appealing to listen to :’3

If you’re not comfortable in having physical contact with bees, do not worry! Melly has a spare mask for a reason!

While you two are waiting for the match to start in the lobby, she would help you wear a mask that is similar to hers.

That way, the bees won’t affect your skin during the match!

After fixing your mask, she sometimes does the ‘helmet-to-helmet’ boop 🥺✨ (if you know those youtubers Corpse and Sykunno having their moment, you know what I mean-)

Melly// *Adjusts your mask, making sure your hair is not showing*

Melly//

Melly// *boops your mask with hers*

Melly// 💚

When your teammates are not around, she would call you “love” or “butterfly” in a gentle voice.

When others are around, she would talk to you in her neutral voice but never does a harsh tone on you.

Other survivors usually see her helping you around with kitchen duty or carrying your supplies. If they don’t see her nor know where you are, that means you both are in the garden (having some tea and biscuits as you both talk about your day and other topics).

If you are dedicated in learning more about pterygota insects and you like to help Melly more with her studies, she would delightfully accept if you ask her to be her assistant.

At night, Melly would wake you up at 2 am so you can help her catch fireflies to study.

Melly// pst, love… Wake up, time for firefly catching… pretty please, pstpstpst- 😚

Not to mention, she often likes to ‘pstpstpst’ you like a bee when calling you out. Whether is playfully or lovingly. x’3