#getting ready for the blood bath that will be the men's even in a few hours

[writersdrug]

COD men period comfort? 🥺

The way my period started right as I finished this... also, I have Endometriosis, so I wrote this with the idea that periods are very heavy and painful for the reader, sometimes making them bedridden. Shit's rough 🙃

CoD Headcannons: Comforting You While You're on Your Period

Fluff, slight nsfw, mentions of cramps and blood, mentions of fingerings, no "period? What's that?" behavior, these men are all educated, mentions of food anxiety, female anatomy

Captain John Price

If this was a competition, Price would be the winner. He doesn't need to look at your tracker app to know it's around the corner, he recognizes the signs immediately. As soon as you begin to dissociate for more than a minute or two, accompanied by your grumbles of how you've been craving junk food lately, he knows it's coming.

He's very intuitive when it comes to your needs. He knows you'll want to call out of work the first few days, so he does it for you. That way, you won't be stressing over it the night before. He plugs in your heating pad (leaving the setting on off, for now), so it's ready when you need it. He fills your water bottle with cold water, he fills the nightstand drawer with iron and protein laden snacks, and he puts a fresh box of your preferred pain medication in there as well. The bathroom is stocked with pads/tampons, and he even makes sure that the remote to the telly is on the nightstand.

He forces you to stretch every morning. It's the one time he ignores your protests and drags you out of bed, insisting you would feel much better - and he was right every time. He'd have you sit with your feet pointed forwards, bending your back until you could touch your toes.

"Gonna join me, John?"

"Psh, you know I'd snap like a twig, love."

Then he'd have you on your hands and knees, kneeling beside you and slowly guiding you to stretch your arms and arch your back, keeping your bum in the air (let's be honest, he doesn't kneel behind you for this because he'd be keeping you in that position for a different reason). He'd have a hand on your lower back, whispering small praises as you groaned from the relief. Once you were in that position, convincing you to get up was another hassle.

He understands that you can have mood swings - he always reminds you that communication is best, and even if you aren't sure what you want, you should still talk to him. Let him know if you're feeling too overstimulated, if his presence is a bit too overbearing in that moment, or if you want him there - whether that's sitting in a chair next to the bath while you take a soak, his hand running over your hair, or if he's cradling you in bed, hands gently massaging your abdomen/lower back.

You feel a bit silly, sometimes - being treated like a porcelain doll. As you promised him you would, you communicate with John that you feel bad that he's pampering you so much, and that you can't exactly return the favour at the moment. He'd listen, never shushing you or interrupting you, and at the end of your venting, he'd assure you that not only is this his obligation as your partner, but it's also something he enjoys doing - looking after you when you need it most.

As for making it up? "We'll explore what options there are when you're feeling up t' it" (He's talking about ovulation week).

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You tell Gaz when your period is coming. He's not as intuitive as Price, but he appreciates that you let him know, and he helps you plan for the next few days. You go shopping together, stocking up on snacks, meds, and Liquid IV (Gaz had originally introduced you to it, and now it's an essential when you're on your period).

He once bought you a period massager that you found online. You thought it was the best invention ever, with both a massage and a heat setting, but it never could compare to Gaz's hands. You eventually ended up putting it on a shelf in the closet after telling him through tears, all while he massaged your stomach, that it felt like you were replacing him, and you hated it. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, but he convinced you that you might change your mind later.

Gaz treats this time of the month like it's the most normal thing in the world. Of course, he pampers you, giving you cuddles when you want them and helping you through the emotional shipwreck in your mind, but he knows you don't like feeling like you're helpless. So he does it all in the most nonchalant way possible. He'll play video games with you as the both of you lounge in bed; whenever you want a snack, he grabs one for himself (partially because you mentioned once that you don't like eating by yourself, partially because he's always hungry).

He refers to your period in different ways each time it comes around. "Is it shark week?" "I got you some more tampons, babe, for the ritual." Or, his favorite, when he sees you scowling at your period tracker app: "Ya got mad cow disease again, luv?"

He'll watch true crime with you per your request, but he's not thrilled about it. You've had to correct him multiple times that it's not about the killing, it's about the mystery of solving each murder that intrigues you. More often than not, you'll look up from where you're laying on his chest, and he'll be watching the telly with a grimace.

"What's wrong, Kyle?"

"It was the landlord - guy looks fishy, and his alibi is shit."

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Johnny understands what a period is - he's a smart man. However, when it comes to your cravings and raging emotions, he's like a devil on your shoulder. If you thought you were impulsive during this time of the month, he only adds fuel to the fire.

He comes back after a trip to the grocery store, announcing that he purchased everything you need for the next few days. The "everything" in question? Crisps, wine, and candy (your favorite candy, sure, but not much chocolate). You don't have the heart to tell him that, while you enjoy all the snacks and alcohol he bought, it's not necessarily the best food for your period - although, the part of your brain that was craving it was thanking him over and over.

You would be lying on top of him on the sofa, the telly playing a show that had been neglected by the both of you. He'd be rubbing your lower back with one hand and massaging your scalp with the other, listening to you as you tearfully explained how much you missed your childhood family dog, a husky named Janet.

"- and she was so cuddly and protective- *sniff*- and she- did I tell you, she used to howl when I cried, like- like she was crying with me? God, I miss her-"

"Sweetheart, why don' we just get ye a pup, eh? A husky, just like Janet, and ye can both howl together whenever ye feel like it."

"No- *sniff*- no, Johnny, we shouldn't-"

"Why not? It'll keep ye company when ah'm away. Ah've always wanted a pup myself, y'know."

It really didn't take much more convincing than that. The next day, Johnny was walking into the flat, holding a husky pup cradled in one arm, and a bag of dog toys and food in the other. You had already forgotten his suggestion to get the dog, and would have scolded him for being so impulsive, but the cuteness aggression had already set in. You squealed and ran over to Johnny, crying happy tears between peppering his face with kisses and cooing at the puppy. He had the proudest smile on his face, seeing how much happier you looked compared to the day before.

Oh, and if you tell this man your breasts are sore? He's running across the room, fast enough to break the sound barrier, to offer you a helping hand (or two).

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has to remind himself that, when you're on your period, you don't always think logically. He's extremely patient with you, but he isn't the best with words. Or, rather, he isn't well-versed in the backwards rationality that comes with your period.

"Simon, can we get Chinese?"

"Sure, luvie, if you want it."

"Will you eat some?"

"Honestly, 'm not really hungry. But we can get what you want."

"... no, I'm ok. Nevermind."

"Wha'? Why not?"

"I don't need it."

Simon still doesn't understand why you won't eat without him, but he knows not to question it. He does, however, order your favorite takeout anyways, and he'll feed it to you if you still insist that you don't want it. He may steal a bite or two if you let him.

Like every good partner, he understands what a period is, and he understands the pain and frustration it causes you. He's still never entirely sure of how to help you, and he often doubts that he's being helpful at all. But that's where his military experience came in clutch: you tell him what to do, and he does it. You want to cuddle? "Scoot over f' me, luv." You want time alone? No worries, he can do some of his own work, just shout if you need him. You're running low on tampons and medication? He'll drop whatever he's doing and run to the corner store for it.

Massage KING, and he doesn't even know it. He huffs and says you're just trying to flatter him when you tell him how good at it he is. He treats you like you're in a spa, too: he dims the lights, he makes you wear an eye mask, he'll turn on the fan because he knows you love the white noise... he'll kneel behind you as you lay on your stomach, and this man will deliver the most tender, slow, and soothing massage of your life. His hands are already so huge and warm, and he somehow flawlessly works you into a drooling puddle each time.

He can't lie: seeing you there, passed out and snoring, no longer complaining about your aches and pains, fills him with just as much pride as it does relief. He's happy you're feeling well enough to rest, and that he's the one to get you there. He'll slowly get up, covering your lower back with the heating blanket, before leaving to replenish your thermos with tea.

König

Whenever you mention that your period is coming soon, he always panics a little. König is a strong soldier, not bothered or phased by much. But when it comes to you, he hates knowing that you're in pain, and that he can't do anything to fix it (despite how often you assure him that he's helping).

This man goes all out. He fills the fridge with healthy, colorful fruits and vegetables, meat, and a pitcher of your favorite drink. He has your heating pad ready to go by your bedside, along with two thermoses, one of hot tea and one of ice-cold water. He sets up a small tray in the bathroom with tampons, pads, fresh underwear, and even a few pairs of shorts. He has a fan in the corner of the room, pointed at the bed and ready to go if you need it. He even takes off work for a few days - he refuses to leave your side when you're in pain.

Like Ghost, he likes being told what to do. If you ask him to turn on the fan, to turn off the lights, or to refill your thermos, he's up and doing it before you can finish your sentence. He hangs on your every word like it might be your last (you'd think with how he acts while you're on your period, you might be dying). He snuggles you every second you're in bed, and despite it being a bit warm, you don't mind the constant affection.

He cooks for you no less than twice daily, and this man can COOK. In no way, shape, or form does König skimp on seasonings and portion sizes when it comes to you. He carries you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter so he can keep an eye on you while he prepares you a hearty, nutritious meal (he needs to make sure you're eating well, schatz, but he'll let you scrounge for lunch, if that's what you really want). Sits with you at the dining table and holds your hand while the both of you eat, listening to you talk. If neither of you have anything to say, or if you're dissociating, he'll just sit and enjoy the silence with you, occasionally brushing your hair from your face and leaning over to kiss your cheek.

Sometimes, he'll do some of his work in bed with you, if he absolutely can't put it off any longer. You were once snuggled up to him, half asleep in the crook of his arm as he typed away on his laptop. He would occasionally rub his large hand over your lower stomach if he heard you groaning in pain from your cramps.

"Schnuki?"

"Mm?"

"Do you want me to finger you?"

That just about made you bolt upright like a rocket. "What?!"

He pointed to his screen. "Everyone says it makes you feel better, no?"

"König, um..." You didn't hate the idea, but didn't he? "I thought you were working?"

"C'mon, liebe-" he closed his computer and put it on the nightstand, rolling on top of you. "Relax for me, I'll make you feel good..."

Please just let this man take care of you and tell him he's doing a good job, it's all he wants.

[pokechbi]

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you. 

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small. 

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you. 

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk. 

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping.  The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time. 

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near. 

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival. 

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger. 

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands. 

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more. 

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask. 

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you. 

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh. 

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most. 

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you. 

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm.  As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you. 

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand. 

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda. 

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin. 

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound. 

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze. 

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his. 

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings. 

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

[beatrixstonehill2]

"This was me at nineteen versus now at twenty-one..... This sucks so bad! My transition was going so well, I was so pretty, my cock was tiny, my tits were big and full. Men absolutely adored me, I could hardly keep them off me. I miss having so many cocks rammed in my ass every day against my will, it was so hot! Ughhh..... I went to the doctor like normal, they tested my bloodwork and stuff. The doctor remarked that my cock was extremely small. I said I was fine with that and wanted SRS, but he smiled and said he thought I'd prefer it if I got to experience real orgasms with my cock before resorting to something extreme like SRS. He also told me I was very skinny for a trans girl my age and asked why I didn't want to be curvier. I told him I wouldn't mind a big butt and bigger boobs, and he put me on some crazy high dose of estrogen.

I rolled my eyes and agreed, because I'm a true submissive. Well..... after about a month I packed on twenty pounds and my cock was already five inches fully erect and I couldn't keep my hands off it. My balls finally got big and plump. It was so fun to jerk off. I used to need a cock ramming my prostate to cum, and even still, my cock would be flaccid, one inch, and barely ooze out one shot of clear cum. Now I was jerking off eight to twelve times a day, shooting rope after rope of milky white cum like a boy. I loved it SO much! Men loved it, too. They had a nice toy to play with as they fucked my ass. My cock became so red and swollen all the time, I posted pics of it on social media constantly! My parents were also thrilled by all the fun I was having with my cock, encouraging me to masturbate all day and go out to get fucked way less.....

I kept packing on more weight, at least twenty pounds a month. I tried to rationalize that it would taper off, that I wouldn't keep getting heavier. Plus in the short term I was so thick and sexy, and men found me even hotter, despite the fact that I had this huge cock now. Or because of it..... Six months on the new meds and I was about 210lbs, almost doubling my weight, and my cock was about a foot long, thick as my wrist, with two extremely generous testicles, both the size of a lemon. They were so hard to sit with and even walk with at times, but I could cum so fucking hard. Fifteen to twenty huge ropes of cum every orgasm. I'd moan like such a slutty princess every time, whether I was getting fucked at a party or at home, covering myself and my computer area with so much glorious cum, I never bothered washing it off. I loved stinking of it, sitting there, my fat belly jiggling, my boobs bouncing, my thick thighs pushing against my oversized balls.

But it kept getting worse. I got fatter and fatter every month. Now I'm so disgusting. You'd never know I was so sexy a couple years ago, barely any cock at all. Now I weigh almost 600lbs, and I can't stand it. I feel so gross and unsexy. Men want nothing to do with me, I'm just another smelly, fat trans girl who turned into a slob. I'm so fat I can barely walk, I just sit home, never bathing, never doing makeup or trying to look good. My cock is about sixteen inches, buried under loads of fat, my balls feel ready to burst all day. But my doctor recommends I don't jerk off, since my health is so bad and my blood pressure is through the roof.

The medication blew me up like a balloon, I wasn't even overeating, but now I stuff my face since it's one of the few pleasures I can still indulge in, even if it makes me feel even grosser knowing I'm just getting fatter. My cock is so hard all day but my doctor tells me all that excessive masturbation I like has put me at a very high risk of heart attack. Sometimes I'm naughty and push my belly down on my cock as I watch pretty girls on Instagram dance at parties like I used to. Their big tits bouncing, their bellies full of kids as they take shots and get fucked all night. I'm so jealous. My favorite is when I follow a trans girl who's nice and petite, getting fucked every night like a good girl, rubbing her tiny cock, only for a few months to pass, and I see her little cock grow to six inches, shooting thick ropes of cum suddenly. Her boobs get bigger, her thighs and butt get super thick, and she gets a cute belly to form, her pretty face getting round, with a double chin, looking so perfect and sexy. I push my giant gut on my cock knowing in a couple years she'll be just as fat and disgusting as me. I crush my huge cock, as my heart pounds through my chest, I moan and pant, and I finally cum, my chest gets so tight, my pulse feels impossibly fast and I make the biggest mess between my legs. Rope after rope after rope. I'm covered in sweat, feeling like my heart might finally give out, and slowly I settle down, my parents scolding me for cumming, despite how they used to encourage me to jerk off all day.... I know I'm so unhealthy and my heart can't take these heavy orgasms of mine, but it's soooo worth it, even if I am a disgusting pig now. I'm so glad my doctor put me on these meds...."

[avastrasposts]

Rosemary & Lavender

Plot: The victorious army is in town and Pero feels he deserves some R&R at the local tavern; a hot meal, a bath and a bed. And you just happen to be there to administer that bath. Lucky you!

Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, dirt, blood, scowls and time period typical attitudes to safe sex. No use of y/n and the reader is pretty much a blank slate.

Word count: 4.5k

So @nerdieforpedro informed me about her Pero soon being in a tub in the fic she's working on, and that sparked a whole idea. She is wholly responsible for the below spa session. I can't believe I haven't written Pero getting a well deserved bath before! Thank you for the inspiration, Nerdie!

Also, huge thank you to the lovely @lady-bess who whipped up the banner in about five minutes flat when I twisted her arm with sweet words about Jack Daniels. Love you!

The soldiers were loud and triumphant as they rumbled into town, the victory had been resounding, the enemy thwarted and a much larger conflict avoided. The people of the town were out on the narrow streets, cheering the men as they marched onwards to the camp that had been erected on the other side. The victorious officers led the improvised parade, grinning at the boisterous men. The line of soldiers seemed to go on forever, but eventually the line trickled out and you closed the window to the upstairs room in the tavern your brother ran and hurried down to the kitchen. There would be a lot of work to be done when the men came in search of ale and revelry in a few hours. 

At the back of the long line of soldiers came those who didn’t really care what side won or lost, as long as they were on the winning side and got their payment, they were the mercenaries. Among them was a tall, dark haired Spaniard whose deep scowl kept most people at bay, Pero Tovar. He scanned the houses of the town as he followed the men walking past them, keeping his eyes open for a tavern who also offered rooms to stay in. He was still expecting his pay from the commander, but he’d found a few coins and valuables as he lingered on the battlefield after it was all done. His body ached, he was covered in grime, blood and mud, and he had no intention of sleeping in a tent tonight. The coins he’d found would buy him a bath, a bed and a hot meal away from the rest of the army. 

The tavern sign swung in the wind and he recognised the sign for lodgings. Taking no notice of the other mercenaries, he ducked his head and stepped through the low door, into the gloomy room inside. The innkeeper caught sight of him and raised a hand in greeting as he approached. 

“Welcome, and congratulations on your victory, soldier!” he boomed, “You’ve all done us a great service by keeping our border safe.” 

Tovar scoffed, his scowl deepening, he had no patience for the locals who were too cowardly to even attempt to defend their homes. 

“I want a hot meal, a bath and a bed for the night, in that order, innkeep,” he growled, tossing the coins on the nearest table. 

“Of course, sir, of course, take a seat and I’ll make sure your bath is heated while you eat,” the innkeep waved at the serving girl in the corner, who hurried through a door leading to the kitchen. Tovar sank down at one of the trestle tables as the innkeeper disappeared up a creaking staircase. Out of sight, he could hear him call to someone to prepare a hot bath in the available room, and then the stairs creaked as the innkeeper made his way back down. 

“Sir, my sister will make sure your bath is ready for when you’ve eaten, please let her know if you want more hot water or need anything else.” 

Tovar grunted and gave a short nod in reply, picking up his short knife and beginning to clean the grime from underneath his fingernails with the sharp tip. 

Not many minutes later the serving girl reappeared with a large bowl and a flagon. She set both down on the table in front of him and he inhaled deeply. Whoever the cook was, they did a fine job with the stew. It was thick and rich and he could see a bone or two sticking up. While the serving girl fetched him bread, he fished the longest bone from the bowl and sucked the marrow from it with a loud slurp before he tucked into the stew. 

It didn’t take him long to finish the bowl and mop up the remains with the last heel of bread. He pushed the bowl to the side and drained the flagon. 

“Girl, which room has my bath?” he called to the serving girl in the corner and she all but jumped out of her skin at his bark. 

“U-up th-e stairs and to the right, milord,” she stuttered, “l-last r-room.” 

He ignored her incorrect title for him and pushed to his feet, making his way up the creaking stairs and finding the room at the end of the hall. 

You straightened up as the door was opened and the lodger walked in. 

“Your bath is just about ready, sir,” you said, pouring the last of the hot water into the large wooden tub and checking to make sure it was hot enough. The delicate fragrance of rosemary and lavender filled the room, the sprigs floating in the water, the air warm from the fire burning brightly in the stone fireplace. You’d set aside a couple of your softest linen sheets for drying and a pitcher of cider was sitting on the small table in the corner together with bread and cheese. 

The man grunted in response and stepped through the door, his large frame taking up much of the space between the door and the tub. He was still wearing his armour, what little could be seen under the grime that covered it, two viscous looking swords equally splattered by dirt and blood on his back, and a knife in his belt. You couldn’t even see much of his face, most of it covered in mud, although it looked as if he’d attempted to wipe it off, patches of tan skin peaking through.

He sniffed the air, nodding approvingly as he saw the lavender floating in the steaming water and began to pull at one of the straps. 

“Do you require assistance removing your amour, sir?” you asked, putting down the jug and stepping to the side to make room for him by the tub. 

“Tovar,” he muttered, his hand dropping from the heavy looking belt around his waist, “don’t call me sir. And yes, if you’re willing, a helping hand is welcome, but I won’t pay extra for it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his curt reply, but stepped closer, reaching for the first strap. 

“I won’t charge extra for it, we’re all very grateful for your service in defending the land around our town.” 

He only grunted at that as he stood still, watching your face as you unbuckled a piece of his armour. He hadn’t been close to an ordinary woman in months, only the whores that followed the wagon train, and he’d made sure to stay well away from them. He knew from experience that the easiest way to get something unpleasant festering in your cock was to share the same cunts as the rest of the army. But here was a real woman, clean by the looks of it, the shining hair uncovered, marking you as unmarried, skin clear of any blemishes, round cheeks and soft curves, was it any surprise that his cock twitched as you moved around him? Delicate hands unlatching and uncovering more of him with each piece that you removed.  

The pieces of his armour were placed nearby and he stood in his sweat drenched shirt as you worked on the last part. He could feel the foul smell coming off himself, but you didn’t flinch. He had a clean shirt in his pack, this one he might need to discard. Looking at the perfect swell of your ass cheeks under the dress, as you bent down to place vambraces on the floor, he wondered if he could offer you enough money to stay and bathe him, if he had enough coins to tempt you to do even more for him. His eyes were glued to you as you stood up straight and turned around. You felt his gaze slip over your body, greedily taking in each dip and curve, especially where your chest strained against the fabric of your dress. 

Without a word, you continued your task of undressing him, pretending to just keep going now that the armour was off. Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, and pushed it upwards, feeling his hard muscles under the warm skin as you caressed him under the guise of removing the last layer on his upper body.  

Tovar’s cock slammed to attention at the feeling; soft, warm palms, fingers slowly trailing over his chest, and sides, lifting the shirt over his head and dropping it down on the floor. Without stopping to ask, your fingers moved to the lacing in his breeches, and he toed his boots off as you looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes without hesitation. 

“You’re covered in all manner of grime, sir,” you said, glancing down to loosen another loop, “will you let me help you get clean?” 

“Pero,” he muttered, following your gaze down to where your hands were deftly working their way closer to the evidence of his arousal, his cock tight against the leather of his breeches. 

“Pero,” you echoed, slipping your hands around his waist and pushing his breeches down over his hips, curving your hands over his rear, grabbing it a bit more than necessary. His cock bobbed free, quickly growing harder as your hands caressed over his hips, sliding up along his sides, finding his shoulders and slipping down his arms, your fingernails leaving goosebumps in their wake on his skin. Finally your hand closed around his and pulled him towards the tub. 

“Get in before it gets cold, Pero,” you said, keeping your voice in the same low tone he’d given you his name in. 

He stepped into the warm water and let out an involuntary groan as his muscles first seized up and then relaxed, letting him slip deeper into the tub, the fragrance of rosemary and lavender all around him as he sensed your presence next to him. 

“I will smell like a well roasted side of pork when you’re done, are you bathing me or cooking me?” he mused as he sniffed the air, pushing away a sprig of rosemary. 

“You look like a very tough side of meat, I’d need to keep you simmering for days to get you tender and soft,” you said, laughing softly as Pero raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Tough side of meat,” he huffed, his hand coming out fast as a viper and swatting your behind as you bent to pick up the washcloth, “come here and finish what you started, mujer, or I’ll show you how tough my side of meat is.” 

You smiled at his crude humour, his hard erection clearly visible beneath the water, underlining his meaning. 

Rubbing down the wash cloth with sweet smelling soap you kneeled behind his head, “Close your eyes, Pero,” you said softly, “let me clean your face and hair first.” 

He could only grunt in response as you began to gently wipe at his face, tracing each line and angle, wiping weeks of grime away with every delicate movement. You’d guessed that he was a handsome man, even the dirt couldn’t hide that, but you were taken in as you rinsed the cloth in a bowl and reapplied it to his face, wiping gently. His skin was golden, a smattering of freckles over his nose, long dark lashes rested on his high cheekbones and the full lips were soft and plush looking under his scruffy facial hair. It really was too long, and his hair had begun to curl over his ears. 

“Pero,” you asked softly, “can I trim your beard and hair a little, keep it from getting in your eyes?” 

He only gave another low grunt in response, not even opening his eyes. You stepped away for the cutters, and then kneeled back down, using a small comb to untangle his locks, cutting until it was all even, revealing more of his handsome face. 

Rubbing the hard soap between your hands, you began to wash his hair, running your fingers through it to lift the grime and dirt. Under your hands, Pero moaned, an almost obscene sound, as your nails scratched at his scalp. 

“Mierda…” he groaned, “that’s good, keep doing that.” 

With a smile you continued, longer than necessary, to rub his scalp, massaging all the way down his neck and the tightly corded muscles holding his head up. Pero tipped forward, exposing more of his broad shoulder to you, and you soaped your hands again and worked through every inch of flesh you could reach, digging your thumbs into the knots and tight spots. Pero was breathing heavily, groaning every time you found a new kink to put pressure on.

“Señorita, I would pay good money to have you do this to me every night,” he mumbled, his head lolling from side to side as you worked your way up again, scratching at his scalp and rinsing his hair. Gently you pulled his head back and rested it on the small pillow at the lip of the tub. 

“If you pay better than my brother, I might take you up on that offer,” you smiled at him, even though his eyes were closed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you moved to the side of the tub and picked up the washcloth again.

Pero peeled his eyes open as you began to gently rub at his chest and arms, rinsing away the dirt. 

“And he won’t come after me if I steal you away from this place?” he asked, letting his free hand reach out and trace across your shoulder, down your side, barely grazing the curve of your breast before he let his hand fall. 

“He’ll probably only see it as one less mouth to feed,” you said with a smile as Pero shifted his gaze to where your hand was now washing his leg. You moved the washcloth methodically, rubbing circles on his foot, his calf, then on his knee, moving to his thigh and letting your hand disappear under the water. Pero hissed as the cloth grazed against his erection. It had simmered down while you cut and washed his hair, now it was growing rapidly, and he bucked his hips as you nudged it again. 

“Mierda….” he muttered under his breath, tipping his head back, anticipating your hand closing around his hard length. But instead, you pulled your hand out of the water and began to work on his other leg, the same methodical motions, circling over his wet skin. His foot…his calf…his knee…his thigh…it seemed you moved at a snail’s pace. When you finally let your hand sink below the water again, he all but held his breath as your hand moved. The washcloth brushed over the tip of him, sending a shiver through him, as you rubbed the very top of his thigh, cleaning the crease where his leg met his torso. It was agony, pure, sweet agony, and he had to bite his lip, his breathing laboured. 

“Cariño lindo….” he finally mumbled, putting his hand in the water and finding yours, “stop tormenting me.” With a firm grip he made you drop the washcloth, letting it float away forgotten in the tub, and brought your hand to his aching cock, your hand closing around it as you met his dark eyes. He let go of your hand and it stayed, wrapped around his thick length, an impressive girth from what you could feel. With a sigh he tipped his head back again, and you felt his cock twitch under your fingers, prompting you to slowly drag your hand up to the tip, your thumb slipping over the fat head. Pero bit down on his lip, air escaping his mouth, and beneath heavy lids he watched your face as you moved your hand. Your tongue peaked out, the tip resting on your bottom lip, and he could feel you grip him firmly, the soft pad of your thumb caressing his slit again. The sensation made his hip jerk up and he wondered if you’d let him pull you into the tub. Or even better, let him toss you on the bed that stood by the window, pull your skirts up and see if you were as wet as he thought you must be. The thought of sinking his cock into that wet heat made him jerk his hips again, fucking up into your tight hand. 

The water lubricated your movements, Pero’s heavy breathing and almost pained moans egged you on, and your hand stroked him firmly. His eyes were glued to you, half closed and he was mumbling under his breath, his hips jerking his cock up into your hand. He was heavy under your fingers, smooth and hard, and so thick that your hand couldn’t really close around all of him. Through the now murky water you could make it out, jutting out from between his strong thighs, a dark thicket of hair surrounding it. You pulled down the foreskin and let your thumb slip around the smooth head again, making him gasp and curse, pleading with you to go on. The water splashed a little over the edges as you slipped your hand down, picking up the pace, Pero’s incoherent mumbling replaced by heavy breathing and groans. He tipped his head back, his eyes squeezing shut, your hand moving faster, lighting a trail of fire through his spine, the familiar tightness building in his heavy balls, his fingers were gripping the sides of the tub tightly, his knuckles white. 

“Please….” he groaned, a loud gasp escaping and you felt his body freeze, only his hips jerking erratically into your hand as you continued to stroke him, white liquid shooting out from his cock into the water. 

“Mierda…” he hissed, grabbing your hand under water, closing your fingers even tighter around his still pumping cock, making you rub him through the length of his climax, milking every drop from him. 

Eventually he slowed down, making you slow your pace to a stand still too. His head lolled back and his muscles relaxed, only his chest moving now as he drew long, deep breaths. 

“Cariño lindo,” he muttered, taking your hand under water and bringing it up to his mouth for a slow kiss, “tell me, are you as wet as I am?” 

His question, and the sinful look on his face, made your cheeks heat up, but arousal flared in your body too. 

He pushed himself up, hanging his arms over the side of the tub, water dripping to the rushes on the floor. With a sly grin and his eyes on your face, he pushed your skirt up, his hand slipping under and up, finding the inside of your soft thigh. With practised ease he navigated your undergarments and found the apex of your thighs. He found you dripping, the slick liquid coating the lips of your sex, and with a pleased groan, he pushed a thick finger inside. Your body convulsed and you had to grip his shoulders to stop yourself from falling into the tub. 

“Pero…” you gasped, his finger deep inside, curling back and making your cunt tighten around his digit as he gave you a pleased grin. 

“So wet, cariño,” he praised, “I had a feeling you would be.” 

He slipped his finger out and quickly pushed in another, stretching you as his thumb found the pearl at the top of your slit, swirling around it with his rough pad. Lighting shot out into every limb and your grip on his shoulders tightened, your breathing suddenly laboured as he began to drive his fingers in and out, the slick dripping down his hand. You whimpered and dropped your head, leaning against his shoulder, and you felt him turn his head and nip at your neck, adding to the onslaught of your nerve endings. 

“Come on, querida, let me ruin you for whatever slow farmer tries to fuck you when I’m gone,” he muttered, his hot breath in your ear as he curled his fingers again, grinning as he heard you whine at his words, or maybe it was the way his thumb changed the pattern on your aching bundle of nerves. 

Your teeth were leaving marks on his shoulder, your nails digging into them too. The breathy moans you were panting made his cock twitch and fill again, he felt blood rush to it as your cunt clamped down hard around his fingers. 

“Fuck it,” he suddenly groweled, water sloshing over the floor as he pulled his fingers from between your legs and stood up. You gasped in protest but he didn’t let you gather yourself, pulling you to your feet he stepped out of the tub and pushed you backwards onto the bed. He gave your behind a swat, urging you to shimmy up it, and followed you as he eagerly pushed your dress up around your waist again. His grin was hungry, and you saw his heavy cock swollen between his thighs again. With an impatient shove, he parted your legs and sank down, his wide shoulder holding them open. 

His first lick through your folds made you cry out, grabbing on to his damp curls as he opened his mouth to fuck his tongue as deep as he could inside you. The feeling made you dizzy as every inch of your skin seemed to burn under him, your arousal ramping up as you heard him growl into your cunt, his tongue lapping at you. He moved above you, pushing your legs further apart as he moved his hand up and mumbled something into your flesh. You tugged at his curls, pulling his face up to look at you and he gave you a grin. 

“Your taste is driving me wild, hermosa,” he panted, his short beard glistening with your slick, “I want to feel you come on my tongue, can you do that for me?” He gave you a mischievous grin and held up his hand, wiggling two of his fingers as you nodded weakly. His fingers slid down through your cunt and easily into your heat and he watched your eyes slip closed as you moaned, your head dropping back down on the bed. As you panted out his name, he picked up the speed of his fingers, bending down to close his mouth around your swollen bead, flicking his tongue over it before he lapped at it. Your cries, your fingers tightening in his hair, let him know he was working you the right way and he doubled his efforts. His cock was aching beneath him, hard and swollen, as you tried to close your legs around his head, your body arching up from the bedding. Panting hard you began to moan his name, rocking your face against his mouth with your fingers in his curls, he could feel you beginning to unravel, your legs shaking. With a final effort, he clamped his mouth around your sensitive pearl and sucked, pushing a third finger into you and curling back. 

“Pero…” you moaned loudly, “p-please…” A gasp escaped you, your breathing erratic and he felt your body go taught under him, your cunt going impossibly tight around his fingers. He felt his scrotum tighten at the thought of feeling that around his cock, as you cried out, your climax washing over you in wave after wave. He kept his fingers moving, flicking his tongue over your core and pushed your pleasure as high as he could. You were all but sobbing as he finally felt your legs begin to relax around him, gasping to catch your breath. He caressed your thighs, pulling out his fingers and pushing himself back up to sit on his haunches. His cock was painfully hard, bouncing back against his belly as he looked down at you, spent and sated beneath him. 

There was something predatory in the way his gaze roamed over your body now, your bottom half exposed to him, your top half still covered by your dress. He put his hand out and tugged at one of the ribbons. 

“Take it off,” he commanded, pushing aside the first layer. With trembling fingers, still shaking from his ministrations, you undid the fastenings, pulling the dress apart and wiggling out of it until it lay beneath you and you were as naked as Pero still kneeling between your spread legs. He was watching you with heavily lidded eyes, stroking his cock with lazy movements, the head red and weeping. 

“I want to fuck you,” he said, his voice low as he leaned forward and moved up over your body, “I won’t come inside you, but I need to feel this tight cunt around my cock tonight.” 

You nodded dumbly, you’d do anything to have more of him, he’d already given you more pleasure than you thought possible, and you ached to feel him inside you. 

His rough hand came out and grabbed your soft breast, teasing the nipple and watching it pebble under his finger tips. When he was satisfied, he let his hand slip down your cushy belly, noting how you shivered as he grazed your sensitive core. He grabbed your thigh and pushed it up, making space for himself. When he was satisfied, he closed his hand around his cock and placed it at your opening, watching as he caressed it through your folds, coating it in your slick, and then pushed in, sliding through your swollen cunt in one fell swoop. It made you gasp as Pero groaned, both his hands grabbing your hips and he pulled you onto his cock. 

“Cariño, so tight…” he growled, eyes transfixed at the place where his aching hard length disappeared into your wet cunt. He pulled out, and slid back in again, groans escaping through his clenched jaw as he began to fuck you. His fingers dug into your flesh as he held you in a vice, snapping his hips, chasing his rapidly approaching climax. 

You watched him, your own body spent and pliant under him, only there to let him use, to sink his cock into, as he growled like a feral animal, snarling when he felt your cunt tighten and clamp down around his cock. His newly cut hair was damp from sweat and bath water, he smelled of rosemary and lavender and every scar on his hard soldier’s body stood out on his flushed skin. 

He groaned, his eyes closing, squeezing them tight and his mouth hung open, his breaths coming out in short bursts. Suddenly he pushed your hips away, pulling out with a hiss and fisting his cock, furiously stroking himself. It took only a few seconds, and then his hot spend shot out, coating your belly and thighs as he snarled and moaned like he was injured. With fascination you watched the thick liquid burst from the shining head of his cock while he squeezed, his face screwed up like he was in pain. He tugged at it, milking it dry before he finally gasped, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. 

Looking down at you, his eyes softened as he regarded you for a few long seconds, his hand still wrapped around his softening cock. With a sigh he crawled over you, dropping down on your side and pressing a kiss, wet and soft, to your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, hermosa, but I think we need another bath.” 

[00ops1e]

taskforce 141 + könig x sick! reader

warnings: emetophobia trigger warning, mentions of puking/being sick, fluff, hurt/comfort maybe??, not proofread a/n: omg here it is. the first cod thing ive written! but not actually theres some filth hiding in my documents. this is totally lowkey a self insert. geared towards female! reader but if you squint at the petnames could be gn. i've been so so sick lately and tbh scares me a lil but what cant be fixed by fictional men?? nothing.

Ghost

 A little bit of a germaphobe

Will take off his mask, but replace it with a medical mask

Only so he can still hold you, just with a peace of mind

He does NOT want to get sick too

Because then how could he take care of you?

Always has a puke bowl at the ready

Orders your favorite takeout, even if you don’t feel like eating

Because hes a firm believer in leftovers.

Which may just be the cause of this

But you'd never tell him. poor man would get so guilty he had forgotten to throw it away.

Puts on a movie and lets you fall asleep on his chest

I feel like he’s a cold-blooded type of person, doesn’t generate much heat

but makes up for it in comfort

so many blankets

so so many. 

Checks your temperature in your sleep

Lowkey counts respirations just to be sure

Makes sure you keep hydrated

Will bring you to urgent care if he’s really worried

No matter how much you protest!

Soap

Squeamish when it comes to throwing up

Will try his very best to stay with you, but sometimes ends up running from the room

Because the last thing he'd wanna do is gag at you

While hes ran away he gets a cold rag to press on your forehead, and clean you up a bit in the process

"yer hidin? awh bonnie i wasnt meanin' to embarrass ye" he says while taking your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes

"sickness and health yeah? i wanna take care of you"

Insists on rubbing vicks/ vaporub on you

Not because hes a little perv (he is)

But because he loves you and the sniffles break his little heart

peppers kisses across your collarbones, vicks smell clogging his nose

but he’s too focused on the goosebumps that rise on your skin, your little shivers

“Awh, my poor sick lass,”

Constantly checking for a fever

Forcing you to stay in bed, even after you feel better, “not takin chances, rest up.”

this man on the other hand is a human space heater

throwing a blanket on and off the two of you, getting too hot and then shortly after too cold. 

not as convenient when it’s hot out lol

head rubs 

head rubs

Gaz

Tries to bring you to a doctor/ urgent care immediatley

Will try to call an ambulance over a slight fever

Stocks up on pedialyte/makes sure youre hydrated

Cuddles constantly, does not care if he catches anything

loves being the big spoon so he can lay in the crook of your neck and still hold onto you tight 

Has extra blankets on deck

entertains you with silly little jokes

but then apologizes while giggling because you laughed so hard it hurt a little. 

Will feed you cold medicine/tums

teases you when you complain about taking them

“i don’t need you gettin any grumpier love”

Will hold back your hair/ stroke your back while youre getting sick

gets offended when you get embarrassed about it

“are you judging my girl?” he teases you

Tries his best to cook, but lowkey fails miserably

Resorts to cup of noodles and lipton packets. 

Price

Such dad vibes

Will make soup or other comfort foods from scratch

And his cooking skills are unmatched

Runs you a shower/bath and washes your hair for you

back rubs and massages

pressing small kisses to your shoulders as he works

also a human heater but not too hot, just the perfect temperature 

also just the perfect shape to spoon you, cradling every inch of your body

“I hate it when my baby’s sick,” he says, rubbing soft circles into your side

Doesnt even have to make a pharmacy run because hes so well prepared

Feeds you medicine, on the dot, every few hours after it wears off

(he totally sets reminders in his phone. [typing like an old person with reading glasses on])

Will stay in bed all day with you, quietly typing and mumbling to himself while you nap at his side

occasionally leaning down to kiss your forehead while he works

the computer goes away as soon as you wake up

"how're you feeling princess?"

loves having you in his arms, pulled close to his chest

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch (bridal style ofc)

Will hold your hair back, refuses to leave your side

“Of course youre not gross darling, we all get sick,”

Konig

rubs your back as you're hunched over the toilet

will sit down with you on the floor, back up against the bathtub when its too much of a risk to leave the bathroom

just wants to keep you company :(

"take as long as you need, liebling"

fills up the tub while still convincing you to get in

he promises you'll feel better after

caves and offers to join you as a last resort to get you cleaned up

Long baths, cuddling in the warm water

Letting the steam clear your sinus

Brushes and braids your hair

when you start feeling better but are still running a fever, hes worried.

but youre dealing with a burst of energy and simply must start with the housework

konig will put you over his shoulder and escort you back to bed

will paint your nails in bed to entertain you, anything to keep you still and in bed

Lets you put your cold feet on him, but only when you dont feel good

totally unprepared because i feel like this man has an immune system of steel

makes a quick pharmacy run, but has to call you for the shopping list bc oops he forgot 

depending on how sick you are, lets you come along for the ride

“promise you’ll stay in the car ja?”

always returns with a sweet little treat or small gift/toy for you

“gesundheit!” as he chuckles at your sneeze 

jokes that maybe he should put a mask on you

[rrking]

Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Monster!Soap x human!Ghost AU

Part 1?

Tw. Blood, lot's of it, violence

When Soap got accepted into 141 by Price, the Captain promised him that he wouldn't have to ever use his supernatural abilities on missions if not strictly necessary. Price knew what he was, how dangerous and terrifying he could become. He knew that Soap has strength that should not be used without considering other options, without thinking, reckless.

It's not like Soap wasn't capable of controlling himself, it takes a lot to throw him of balance. His previous CO didn't know a limit though. The moment that bastard found out about Soap's other side he made sure to use it whenever he could, making every mission an easy win- for himself.

For Soap it was bloody exhausting not only physically but mentally. It wasn't even just that, that he started to lose himself more easily but the faces of his teammates whenever he unleashed his rampage? The scared faces of his friends? The fact that after the first time his team saw his true self they never looked him straight in the eyes again. They never talked to him like they used to, holding themselves stiff and ready to bail. Terrified.

So Soap grew to hate using his abilities on field, near other soldiers. When he joined 141 he made sure to keep that part of himself hidden away even though Ghost and Gaz were informed about the fact that Soap wasn't human, but they didn't know the details. Werewolves, vampires or even shapeshifters- those were seen often at military bases in comparison to his kind. With how the scot carried himself and acted they probably assumed he was a werewolf but he was something else entirely. He would rather keep it the way it is especially that he took a shine to his new lieutenant.

He was able to go like this for months and in that short time 141 became something so much more than just a task force.

Everything was great until the absolute blood bath he is in right now.

They were supposed to retrieve important information from a building supposedly guarded only by a few humans eventually a vampire, in and out. But when they reached the office in which the files were supposed to be hidden, Gaz's radio cracked with Price's voice who was over watching the building.

Armored cars swarmed the building, they got surrounded and outnumbered in a blink of an eye. When first few gunshots flew by their heads he knew that there is only one way of getting them out of there in one piece.

He clicked his radio.

"Price! Permission?!" He screamed, looking over at his teammates trying to hold their positions against the enemy.

"... Granted. Keep them safe son." Prices voice sounded through the speaker.

Hell broke lose in mere seconds. Screams filled the building as well as the subtle dull sounds of bones being broken inside bodies. Dark navy flames consuming bodies, surrounding them and pulling of their limbs as if flames were solid body. John himself now *several* feet taller, hunched over a group of men desperately trying to shot at him, the bullets flying through him and into the wall behind him. He tore into them, blood splattering across the room.

.

.

.

"Johnny! They are all dead, quit it!"

A voice, familiar, deep and raspy- Ghost's. Soap suddenly felt like he could see again. Like the vision was blurry before but now it was clear. He saw his dark, burning claws covered in blood and- A pile of... Fuck when did he blacked out? Did he hurt his friends?

He can't breathe suddenly.

"Mate? You with us?" Gaz. Gaz stood beside him, on his eye level. He must have turn back, he feels sticky. Gaz is ok.

He felt hands on his shoulders.

"Johnny say something" Ghost said, concern seeping into his voice. He has to answer.

"Yeah, Fuck- I sorry-" Soap cringed at his own voice cracking. This wasn't supposed to happen, not around them. He wasn't supposed to scare them.

"Mate you have nothing to be sorry for." Gaz huffed relieved. "You saved us" the other sergeant smiled at him like he never saw what he just did.

Ghost squeezed his shoulders. "Come on, we gotta get you cleaned up sergeant. We have to get to Price and then to the extraction point. Is any of that blood yours?" His voice was calm, grounding - like nothing changed.

"No, No Lt. I am good"

And just like that Ghost gave him a pat on his shoulder and signaled to follow him to the exfil.

It left Soap surprised, the fact that his friends acted just as always. Like they didn't see what he was able to do.

But it's probably just shock.

The scot already felt the dread of loosing his friends after they would process what they witnesses. It never ended differently.

I am losing sleep over monster Soap

[marthawrites]

Hello friends! My name is Martha and I'm a wife, mom, and nerd about a whole lot of things. I'm officially in my 30s, a libra sun, aries moon, and leo rising.

• Aemond Targaryen simp

• Cryptid and monster lover

• Wannabe writer

Archived here will be an assortment of writing resources I find useful, fandom stuff, fandom writing, (maybe one day) horror writings, and things I generally enjoy. So, a hodgepodge! I try to tag most things - look in my search bar! Followers better be 18+ due to adult content on this blog because I am gross and shameless.

Requests OPEN for Rhaenyra Targaryen (wlw) and Harwin Strong (fem reader)

Check out my tag #other peoples writing for all the fics I've read and LOVED ♥ Huge shout out to all the wonderful, talented, and unhinged writers on this platform! MWAH!

Masterlist beneath the line! 

Any and all errors and mistakes are my own. I do not use a beta reader. All of these fics, unless otherwise stated, are non-descript female readers. All of these fics are based on my own interpretations of characters and events from the show, House of the Dragon, and the book, Fire and Blood. Any likeness or similarities to other author's fics is unintentional. I am open to private constructive criticism as I believe there is always room for improvement. Each fic is marked with the month and year that it was completed.

Aemond Targaryen:

One shots:

12/ 22 Knees:  (aemond x wife 18+) during a dinner you witness a Lannister relentlessly flirting with a young lady who’s clearly uncomfortable. Taking matters into your own hands, you begin flirting with him to steal his attention away. Aemond, your husband, only plays along for so long before he dismisses both of you and takes things into his own hands.

12/22 Greed: (aemond x wife 18+) Aemond just really likes eating his wife, even when there’s a servant knocking on their door to wake them up to get ready for a mid-morning event.

12/22 A Surprise in the Library: (aemond x wife 18+) Aemond’s wife surprises him with something that the morning’s kitchen staff was talking about. So much for peaceful studying in the library!

1/23 Darkened Corridors: (aemond x fem reader 18+) After avoiding Aemond for what he deems too long, he finds you to remind you what you’ve been missing out on.

1/23 A Lady’s Thrill: (aemond x wife 18+) A stressed Aemond returns late and his lady wife helps him de-stress.

5/23 Teaching A Dragon New Tricks: (aemond x fem reader 18+) You and Prince Aemond have been giving each other eyes for some time now, and he finally makes the first move. After that, you feel comfortable showing him a few things. His drive for knowledge extends beyond books.

6/23 A Dragonkeeper's Secret: (aemond x fem reader 18+) After being disappointed by a fellow dragonkeeper, an event in the dragonpit makes you think: perhaps not all men are disappointing.

6/23 Leather and Silver: (aemond x wife reader 18+) There's something about your prince husband's belt that successfully drives you mad with lust.

7/23 Only A Scratch: (aemond x fem reader 18+) Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

10/23 Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

10/23 To Break The Tension: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) You and Aemond have a no strings attached relationship. He has a surprise for you and you are more than excited to go see what it is.

12/23 Morning Lovebites Lead To Sweet Dreams: (aemond x wife reader 18+) You and Aemond share a morning bath and the lingering sensations last with you all day. When he returns to your marriage chambers later than usual, you're sad you might sleep through his return. Once in for the night, however, he makes up for it.

1/24 Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood: (aemond x niece reader 18+) Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

1/24 Red Lions and Hidden Dragons: (unnamed male x Lannister!fem reader & aemond x Lannister!fem reader 18+) Close kin to Jason and Tyland Lannister, you arrive to King's Landing with a party of fellow lions to celebrate the birth of Prince Maelor Targaryen. You weren't expecting to catch Prince Aemond's eye, but once you do, neither of you can forget it.

3/24 "Vok" (Perfect): (aemond targaryen x sister reader 18+) You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

6/24 Bloodlust: (aemond targaryen x wife reader 18+) Aemond, unable to leave you behind in King's Landing on his way to Rook's Rest, returns to you after a successful scouting mission.

Mini Series:

3/23 (pt 1) Pretty Girl: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) There's been some weird stuff happening in the woods and your boss buys top of the line security cameras. You definitely weren't expecting to hit it off so well with the tech guy who is much more than a tech guy.

4/23 (pt 2) A Game of Chase: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) You and your best friend go out to a local event. While there, Aemond, surprisingly, makes an appearance. With quick wit you pretend like it's your first time meeting. Equally quick and curious, he plays along. A game of chase ends up with some unexpected aftershocks.

3/23 (pt 1) Midnight Passage: (aemond x fem reader 18+) Despite the Prince Regent seeing to his royal duties, Aemond's lover is insatiable and seeks to find him late into the night.

4/23 (pt 2) Beneath the Prince Regent: (aemond x fem reader 18+) After your little disturbance in the Prince Regent's study, Aemond finally comes to bed.

7/23 (pt 1) After The Closing Shift: (modern aemond targaryen x fem reader 18+) You and Aemond have been best friends for years. The time is finally right for him to admit his true feelings. In the process of doing so, your cheating ex appears back in the picture. Unexpected events follow.

8/23 (pt 2) After The Study Session: (modern aemond targaryen x fem reader 18+) Through the chaos of college and work, yours and Aemond's friendship continues to shift in a new direction. Jason can't seem to accept he's lost you. You and Aemond take matters into your hands to make sure he knows it.

10/23 (pt 1) Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

5/24 (pt 2) Between the Covers: (modern aemond x fem reader 18+) During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Series: On Hiatus

1/23 The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter one, Betrothed :  A realm upon the brink of war. Alicent reaches out to your father, Lord Redwyne, to marry Aemond Targaryen to you. If the union officiates, the green Targaryens will receive the aid of Lord Redwyne’s fleet. You sail to King’s Landing to meet the young prince, to weigh if this is a marriage you truly want.

2/23 The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter two, Discovery :  After the official betrothal, you learn more about Aemond with each passing day. You're unsure to be scared or excited with these discoveries, but he always leaves you wanting more.

2/23 The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter three, Experience : (18+) As promised, Aemond takes you for another ride on Vhagar. This time he shows you a hidden place that he’s always loved. New experiences unfold.

6/23 The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter four, Moonlight: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Daemon Targaryen and Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Mini Series:

12/22 (pt 1) A Gift for the Queen:  (daemon x rhaenyra x fem reader 18+) It’s Rhaenyra’s birthday eve and Daemon surprises her with an unexpected gift.

5/23 (pt 2) The Gift That Keeps Giving: (daemon x rhaenyra x fem reader 18+) You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

5/24 (pt 3) The Post-Flying Gift: (daemon x rhaenyra x fem reader) A rare fully sunny day beckons Daemon and Rhaenyra to fly their dragons above Dragonstone for hours. You are more than happy to watch them in flight. When they return, their dragonblood runs hot.

Daemon Targaryen:

One Shots:

6/23 Punishment: (daemon x poc wife reader 18+) Just because you're in the honeymoon phase with the Rogue Prince doesn't mean you can escape a proper punishment for disrespect.

8/23 A Day in the Life: (modern daemon x fem reader 18+) It's barely dawn and you want to have a little fun with Daemon before work. Your job unexpectedly calls and plans change. Flirty and risque texts on the clock leads to him picking you up in both your favorite car.

9/23 Sand and Sky: (daemon x poc fem reader 18+) Upon arriving to King's Landing with your cousin, Criston Cole, you meet Daemon Targaryen. Little time passes before desire of the flesh overtake both of you.

9/23 The Night's Conquest: (daemon x fem reader 18+) It's Daemon's last night in King's Landing and he seeks one final comfort at the Blue Pearl.

6/24 Devour: (daemon x wife reader 18+) The early days of your moon's blood are always the worst. During your suffering, your husband, the Rogue Prince, takes it upon himself to help ease you.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

One shots:

9/23 Honeyed Promises: (rhaenyra x fem reader 18+) While visiting your great uncle, Lyman Beesbury, at King's Landing, you weren't expecting secondhand stress to affect your lord husband so. Princess Rhaenyra takes notice and is happy to steal moments away with you.

2/24 A Not So Hidden Secret: (modern rhaenyra x fem reader 18+) Rhaenyra discovers something in the bedroom that you, admittedly, forgot about, but didn't want her to know about!

3/24 Beneath the Blooming Branches: (rhaenyra x fem reader) Spring has officially sprung. You and Rhaenyra enjoy a quiet afternoon strolling and picnicking in the gardens.

3/24 A Tale of Two Moons: (rhaenyra x fem reader) At the end of a long day Rhaenyra shares a tale with you, and then offers to share more.

Harwin Strong:

One shots:

12/23 Harrenhal Butterflies: (modern harwin x fem reader 18+) Sparks flew between you and Harwin before slinking off together during a work dinner, and they continue to fly afterwards. Unprompted, you both slink off together once again during an elective work trip to Harrenhal. Tension ends up breaking in a most unexpected place.

2/24 Matinee Delight: (modern harwin x fem reader 18+) While on a cinema date, the movie ends up being something you don't like. You try to talk your boyfriend, Harwin, into bailing early for something more fun.

Harwin Strong and Rhaenyra Targaryen

8/24 A Shared Bed: (harwin x betrothed fem reader x rhaenyra 18+) Harwin gets into an arranged marriage to stop the rumors about him and Rhaenyra. He really likes his betrothed but he loves Rhaenyra. He tells his betrothed, "I can't choose between you and her." She says, "I don't want you to choose. I want in, the bed is large enough."

Helaena Targaryen

One shots:

6/24 Visions in the Garden: (helaena and kids) After breakfast, Helaena takes her twins for a walk through the royal garden.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Rewrite the stars *Smut*

Summary: The day came to marry Aemond with end in sight, however after enough time with him even if he couldn't always calm his strange urges..... You seem to have grown fond of him and his weird ways.

Word count: 4.1k

A/n: Part 3 of "My sweet Y/n" but can be read as a stand-alone, Enjoy~

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Once in the safety of your private chambers, you couldn't stop thinking over Aemond's question even as you got ready for bed "You do want to marry me, right?". Sitting in the bath longer than used to simply because you couldn't stop yourself from thinking of all the different outcomes of marrying the prince, trying to fight against it still but dealing with more punishments that Alicent seemed fine putting you through or actually giving in to what the prince wanted. Once a fortnight had passed the wedding was ready to take place which helped as Aemond eased up even if only slightly, but you had a much better time talking to him even if he was still glued to your side or banned certain people from even just looking at you or how often Alicent would be staring you both down looking angry but say she was fine. Having been separated from Aemond for the last few days once everything was done and over with it would be more special when you both finally saw each other even as Alicent and Helena helped you get ready for the wedding. Helena tried to be ever helpful as she spoke softly to keep you calm but couldn't help as she spoke in her riddled way of what she saw happening once you married Aemond as if knowing something nobody else did.

You stared at the mirror as the maids finished dressing your hair in braids and wrapping your head delicately with a headdress of flowers. Aemond walked down a carpeted staircase and into a large room. He was wearing a black doublet, embellished with silver embroidery. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. At the other end of the room, you were waiting for everything to start in your wedding dress. The dress was made of white velvet, with lace trimming along the hems. You looked like a vision of beauty. Aemond looked at you with awe and tenderness once you started walking down the long aisle. He knew he would soon make you his wife. He could not wait to take you in his arms. There was a hush among the crowd as you made your entrance, Aemond's eyes solely on you. You were taken aback when he looked at you with nothing but pure awe. You rarely had men or most people look at you in this way. As he approached you, you gently took his hand and held it tightly. His warmth and tenderness were both comforting and exciting. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you at the thought of finally being with Aemond even if things were still very difficult between you both.

Aemond slowly made his way down the carpet-lined room, taking in the beauty that was you. You looked like a vision in your wedding gown, your beauty rivaling that of the Seven themselves. Aemond couldn't wait until you were finally and officially his wife, to hold and kiss and love you with all his heart and soul without hiding it anymore. "You look beautiful," he said softly, handing you the bouquet of flowers. "I can't wait to marry you, my love." He looked over at the Septon waiting nearby. "Shall we?" You took the bouquet of flowers. "Thank you, Aemond." You looked up at your groom, smiling. "Yes," you said softly, "let's do it." You looked at the Septon with a nervous smile. "Let us be wed, ser." The Septon stepped forward. "Dearly beloved…" Aemond squeezed your hand as the ceremony began. In his heart, Aemond was already married to you. He had loved you since the very first day you both met.

You smiled softly trying to stay calm even with all the eyes on you and Aemond who seemed used to this. Aemond and the Septon took their positions. "Do you, Aemond, Prince of the Iron Throne, take Y/n to be your lawful-wedded wife, to love and cherish, from this day forth?" the Septon asked. Aemond nodded. "I do." The Septon turned to look at you. "Do you, Y/n," the Septon asked, "Take Aemond to be your lawful-wedded husband, to love and cherish, from this forth?" You took a deep breath in and out, your heart beating quickly, your mind racing with thoughts of Aemond and what suddenly life would be like now. You slowly nodded your head, and your voice trembled slightly as you replied quietly, "Yes." As you repeated your vows, it felt as though your chest was expanding with pride, joy, and love. This was it, you were getting married even if it was to Aemond, the man you had fought against, the man you had understood was different than others and was now standing in front of you. It was like a fairytale come to life except it was very real.

The Septon spoke. "Then, by the authority vested in me by the Seven Who Are One, I hereby pronounce that Aemond and Y/n are one flesh and one body, now and forever." Aemond and you leaned forward and gently kissed for the first time as husband and wife. Aemond's hands remained on your hips. Aemond smiled. The Septon looked pleased. The guests cheered and drank champagne. "My wife," Aemond whispered into your ear. Aemond smiled at the Septon. Then he looked at you. His expression turned serious. "My wife," he said in a quiet voice. He took your hand and kissed the ring. "You are mine, now," he said lowly. "And I am yours." His eyes darkened as he looked at you enjoying that now no matter what you were only his no longer even having to work under his mother.

Truly feeling like his property, even if you didn't understand if it was in a good way or a bad one. No one else would ever be able to touch you, love you, or call you 'wife.' This moment was truly a dream come to life. As Aemond kissed the ring on your finger, you felt a rush of warmth flush over your body that only added to the fire of nerves. You knew now that you belonged to him, you belonged to him completely and he belonged to you in turn. No one could take Aemond away, and that gave you such a sense of peace and comfort it felt like a burden lifted off your shoulders. You felt complete. You were no longer you, you were Aemond's, his one true love, and you would have to wear that title with pride.

You and Aemond turned to the guests who attended the wedding as they clapped and cheered. Your body burned from embarrassment as you fiddled with the flowers you were still holding. You felt like your whole body was on fire after everything was settled and set in stone Aemond took your hand. "Let's go have a meal and celebrate," he said. Leading you to a feast table, filled with delicious foods. On it were roast fowl, baked capon, sweetbreads, lamprey pies, and lemon cakes. "My love," Aemond whispered. "I promise I will protect you and your honor. I will be faithful to you and love you and cherish you." Aemond was smiling. He looked deep into your eyes. "With all these wedding festivities, I nearly forgot that we shall soon bed, to finally consummate our marriage," Aemond smirked. "Are you ready for that, my wife?" You felt slightly embarrassed but happy by the applause and the cheering of the guests. You smiled at Aemond as he led you to the feast table filled with delicious food. You took in the sight of the feast table before you both, full of delicious foods. You couldn't wait to dig in. As Aemond whispered in your ear and promised to protect you and love you, you felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over you. Your stomach turned just slightly at his next remark, but you tried your best to ignore it and focus on your new husband. Then he mentioned consummation. You cleared your throat a little at his words but felt yourself nod nonetheless. "I am," you said softly. It was a big night for you both and there was nothing better than to consummate your marriage, to finally be one in flesh and hearts.

Feeling a rush of butterflies at his words, your cheeks hurting due to the smile you couldn't get to leave your lips as you nodded your head. You were ready, you only hoped you could satisfy your new husband. You both had been so close to each other, but never truly together. Now you would be in the most intimate way imaginable. You nodded once more, your chest burning as if you were on fire not knowing what you were doing. You couldn't believe that the moment you had prayed for just to marry and be happy beside someone for the rest of your life for so long was finally here, and it felt like a dream. "I am," you replied softly. Your heart fluttered at your now husband's words. Both of you would no longer be separated by this night. Your bodies would finally be intertwined, with your souls bound together forever. "I have waited a lifetime for this moment," you softly confessed, "so you better be ready."

Aemond felt the blood rush to his face. His body was alive. His whole body felt warm. His heart pounded. "Ready?" He said. "I am more than ready." Aemond stared at your lips. "My beautiful, sweet, and chaste bride." Aemond was grinning widely. "Tonight," he said, "my chaste bride will be mine." Aemond gently pulled you closer. "Tonight we will consummate our marriage." Aemond looked at you with a lustful smile. "My love," he said, "I have been waiting for this moment since our first meeting. You have no idea how much I want you." Aemond was blushing. This wasn't like him at all being so open but at least he wasn't telling you all the things he did behind your back, but he somehow couldn't restrain himself around you. Aemond caressed your cheek with his thumb. "Y/n," he said, "let's go back to my chambers. We need to consummate our marriage."

You could feel a fire in your blood. Aemond's lustful words were making you feel things you never thought you could feel. You were becoming more and more excited by his advances, but part of you was scared and nervous. This would be the first time you truly made love, and you wanted it to be perfect. "Take me," you said softly, meeting his lustful gaze with your own. "Take all of me, my love," you whispered gently like you didn't want others to know as you leaned forward, your kiss lingering on his lips. You could feel his warmth coursing through your body. "My lady," Aemond whispered, "I will gladly take you." He softly leaned forward and kissed your lips fiercely. It was not the romantic kiss you had given each other at your wedding. This kiss was different. The hunger and lust in Aemond's eyes, the way he squeezed you firmly, and the way Aemond's kiss did not want to end, showing you a passionate side of your new husband you had not yet known.

Aemond felt a rush of emotions. Lust, love, and desire for you overwhelmed his body, coursing through his blood like wildfire. He had waited a lifetime for this moment, the moment when his beloved would finally be in his arms. He leaned forward, his kisses more passionate than any he had ever given before. He pulled you closer into his arms, his hands exploring your body and pulling you tighter against him. His lips searched for your neck, and he kissed your neck passionately. His movements were not gentle now. They were aggressive and passionate. Your body was trembling with excitement, feeling that same fire coursing through your body. You couldn't help but moan as Aemond's hands explored your body, and kisses rained down your neck. You were losing your mind, your desire taking over in a way you never would have imagined. You were becoming a woman that night, your body, your mind, and your soul belonged to Aemond, and no one else your blood raced through your veins, the rush of excitement, lust, and desire being too much for you to handle as your hold tightened on Aemond. You kissed him back hungrily, tasting his lips and feeling his hands as they ran over your body. The aggression of his movements made you feel like he was claiming you with each kiss. Each caress brought you two closer together, your souls and bodies intertwined. Your lips and bodies met together, creating an explosive passion.

Aemond sighed happily as the passion between him and you grew. The kiss was intense, hungry, and filled with desire. The two had slowly but surely making way to the privacy of your now shared bed chambers, away from the feast and people who wanted to talk to you both and meet you someone who was just a lowly servant now married into royalty. Now in the bed chambers. You were lying on his large, king-sized bed Aemond's face was flushed. His body was warm. You could feel his breathing become heavier Aemond stared you in the eyes, his voice becoming raspy. "Your husband desires you," he said, "more than he has ever desired anyone for the past two years." He pulled your body closer. "My lady," he said, "I must have you." Slowly, Aemond peeled your dress down, revealing your figure to his heterochromia eyes. Aemond's eyes were filled with a lustful gleam. He hungrily kissed your neck, leaving marks with his lips. He looked into your eyes. "Are you ready?" You felt yourself shiver as Aemond's lips kissed your neck, leaving behind marks as if he were claiming you as his own which in his mind he was. His words ignited a fire within you, one that could only be satiated by your husband. "I am, my love," you whispered gently as you felt his hands on your body, your heart was beating rapidly, your mind racing. All of you belonged to him, forever. "Take me," you whispered softly, unable to wait any longer. Your words were filled with passion and desire. You moaned softly as Aemond's kisses traveled down your neck again, sending a jolt of desire through your body. He was aggressive and passionate, and you were loving every second of it. As his lips touched yours, you let out a muffled cry of pleasure. You wanted him to take you right here, right now. You were married now, and this was finally allowed. You couldn't stop yourself from feeling this way and your body wasn't helping as it all but screamed at you everything you needed to know.

Aemond's hands explored every curve of your body. His fingers traced your curves, touching every inch of you. Aemond could feel every little gasp and moan of pleasure that you were making. Aemond pulled you close to him. He could feel his blood boiling. He was becoming hungry for her. Aemond's face was flushed he kissed your shoulders, your neck, your tummy, your hips. He kissed wherever his mouth could reach. Aemond slowly kissed down your body all the way to your thighs. He could hear you moaning softly under your breath. Aemond looked up to see you looking at him with lust in your eyes. He let his voice whisper seductively "We shall be as one," he teased, "as husband and wife." Aemond's heart was racing. He looked at you with a wicked smile on his face. "My love," he whispered, "you are as beautiful as a goddess." Aemond looked at you with unrivaled passion and obsession. Your beauty was enough to render him powerless. He caressed the curve of your hips. Aemond smiled. "So soft and supple," he whispered enjoying how you felt under his fingertips without shame or guilt like he used to.

You moaned softly as he kissed all over your body, his mouth wandering over every inch of you. His words only served to further fuel your passion and desire. The passion and lust between you both were palpable. You let out another moan as Aemond kissed your thighs, your breath growing heavy and your heart beating quickly. You knew what was about to happen. You couldn't wait much longer. "Please," you whispered softly, letting him know that you were ready for more. Your lips continued to moan softly. You were feeling so much pleasure, your whole body shaking. You felt Aemond's hand move to your thighs spreading your legs open, slowly working way up to a more intimate place as his fingertips teased your pussy. Aemond kissed your thighs slowly. He kissed your hips. He kissed your womb, gently, teasingly. His mouth slowly licked at your skin. Aemond smiled. "The moment we have long anticipated is finally here," he said. "I am going to take you." You were experiencing something you had never felt before. It was intense and overwhelming, but Aemond's attention and love for you felt so blissful. He seemed so dedicated to worshipping you. Aemond's tongue entered your cunt slowly with a groan at the taste of you on his tongue.

Aemond watched you closely taking in your reaction. He was gazing at you with complete and total adoration. He was obsessed with every part of your body, every inch, every curve, every part that showed your dripping pussy. But, above all, he was addicted to your sweet lips and your breathy voice. Your legs buckled and shook as you tried to endure the pleasure of Aemond's tongue teasing you as his nose bumped against your cilt. Your body was a blaze, and all you could feel was the overwhelming sensations of Aemond's touch. You were so close, and the feeling would only increase as he worked his way deeper inside you. "Aemond," you whispered softly as your head tilted back, feeling your body quivering in his embrace. "Oh, Gods." You could not remember the last time you felt something this powerful. Your mind was all but gone, and your body was nearing the edge.

Aemond smiled as he heard Y/n's voice become more desperate. She likes this, my sweet lady, Aemond thought. She is mine. The moans of yours fueled Aemond's love and passion for you tenfold. He was eager to give you pleasure, and he did not want to lose this opportunity as he continued moving his tongue inside of you letting you grind against his face, holding on to your thighs as he groaned before feeling the spasm as your legs shook while you came hitting all over his face. Causing him to pull away shocked at what just happened before grinning as he moved to hover above you still teasing you as he roughly spoke in your ear "Such a good little wife for me aren't you? gonna let me take you again and use you."

You were lost in the pleasure you felt at the touch of Aemond's mouth and hands. Your body was shaking with desire, your words becoming lost as you felt yourself reaching your climax. Your eyes widened in shock, a blush creeping across your face as the words he spoke left you breathless. Was he joking? You didn't have time to think, not with the way he was teasing you and looking into your eyes with a gleam of passion. "Take me," you begged softly with a nod of your head, your voice filled with need and pleasure.

Aemond's lips continued to tease you, and your moans kept flooding the room. Aemond finally gave you what you both wanted. He gave you his entire body, in every way possible. His body was warm and tender as if he had become one with you like he had been waiting. His fingers, his tongue, his lips, his voice, every single one of his senses existed to please you. Aemond felt your body trembling and shaking with the pleasures you were having. Aemond was loving every moment of it. Aemond looked at you with a content, blissful expression. He moved his hands to your hips and pulled you close. He wanted to savor this moment, to savor the loving feelings his wife was giving him finally after all the pining and waiting paid off. "Oh, Y/n, you are mine now," Aemond whispered seductively in your ear. Aemond kissed you softly as he lined up his cock that was leaking and thrusted into you slowly as he laced your fingers together holding your hands up by your head.

Closing your eyes as he slowly lined up, your eyes meeting just for a moment. As he thrusted into your warm pussy, you let out a soft moan, your body filled with a sense of pleasure and satisfaction that you had never felt before. "My love," you whispered. Your eyes remained closed as your bodies moved together. "Please fill me with your love." Your words were filled with passion and joy, the moment of your coming together was the happiest moment of your entire life. Aemond was in bliss. Your love, your soft, sweet lips, your warm body, all of you. Aemond loved you which he felt he had proven enough times since knowing you. He loved you so much that his thoughts were filled with you. This is what you mean to him. You are his happiness. Aemond was grunting with every thrust as he started snapping his hips faster. His hands slipped away from yours and were gripping your hips firmly. It was as if Aemond was a beast with a fiery passion inside him. He couldn't stop. He wanted to give you more love.

"You are mine," Aemond whispered, his voice becoming more and more sensual. "I have been dreaming of this moment," he said softly. "I have wanted you as my wife since I first saw your beautiful face two years ago." Aemond looked at you hungrily as he thought of all the depraved things he did before being with you. He was your husband now. You were now Aemond's lover. Your paths were intertwined and your destiny was to be together forever. He kissed your lips passionately. You were in total bliss as Aemond's body moved with yours. You felt the love flow through your body, filling you, and all you could think of was the man on top of you. You felt his love and felt every emotion he felt. Your hands grasped onto him, holding onto him tightly as you continued to make love with him. You let out another moan, your legs wrapping around his waist as he groaned and swore under his breath each time you tightened around his cock. Your eyes were closed as you felt your whole body shudder with pleasure and satisfaction. Love filled every inch of your body. You had never felt more connected to another being.

Aemond kissed your neck. He moved his body at a fast pace letting his cock slam in and out of you. He kissed your lips again. He kept doing this again and again, his kisses becoming more and more passionate and rough. Aemond's heart was pounding. Your moaning was driving him crazy. He was close to the edge. His body was moving faster and harder. The moment was quickly approaching. Your moans were louder and more passionate as you practically screamed his name. His body was trembling. Suddenly, he released deep inside of you. You could feel Aemond's body become more intense as his kisses increased in passion. Your own body trembled as your breathing became faster. The moment was approaching and you could feel your body prepare itself for the climax again. As your bodies moved faster and faster, you felt his kisses on your neck become more and more possessive, as if he was claiming you in every way possible. You let out a loud, satisfied moan as you felt pure ecstasy throughout your body. Your body trembled and your blood raced through your veins. It was the greatest moment of your life as you saw white in front of your eyes.

With that, Aemond made you feel things you had never felt before in your life. All in all, it was an incredible experience for you which was better than any fantasy he had ever had about you. When the two of you were finished, Aemond held you closely. Aemond's face was flushed, and he was breathless from their love-making. He whispered to get your attention, "You are my true love." He spoke while dragging his fingertips across your body. You held onto your husband tightly as you lay together on the bed, his words making your heart melt. You enjoyed his closeness for once, listening to his breathing, and knew that this moment would forever be etched into your mind. "I am yours, my love," you whispered back to him. "I am yours right here, right now, and forever." You brought your hand up and caressed his cheek, smiling softly as you looked into his eyes.

"I love you, Aemond," you murmured gently but honestly about the words he had been waiting to hear from you.

[mxtxfanatic]

Book of the Week: Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage

Author: Qian Shan Cha Ke (千山茶客)

Genre: ancient setting, josei

Rating: M (very mature, dark themes but not too graphic of depictions)

My Synopsis: What happens when a girl gets tired of being nice and decides to go apeshit? You get Shen Miao, our adorable 30+ year-old protagonist recently stuffed back into her 14-year-old self and ready to eat the flesh and drink the blood of her enemies! Using this new lease on life, she’ll methodically and maliciously ruin every antagonist’s life using the tools in her versatile skillset, including: knowledge of the future, a psychological understanding of assholes, weaponized gender stereotypes, and men. And lest we forget our love interest, Xie Jing Xing: the boy/man (cause god forbid the author know how old anyone BUT Shen Miao is…) who thought he had it all figured out until he discovered that Shen Miao is a horny drunk. See just how far they’ll go to bathe in the blood of their enemies while keeping their loved ones safe in this very long but extremely satisfying novel.

My Actual Review: It’s so satisfying to see a previously downtrodden character scheme her way into a happy ending, and Shen Miao fucking deserves it. Some reviews that I’ve seen have claimed that the LI eventually takes over her revenge schemes, but I didn’t see it. They just partner up and she uses his manpower to do what she wants. There are also places where their separate goals intersect, so it just makes more sense for him to do the cleanup. The thing about Shen Miao is that she has no issues with letting others do the work for her, especially if it’s against people she wasn’t invested in putting work against to begin with. It’s the empress in her, I fear. As for the main pair as a couple, I loved their every interaction, and their descent into romance felt natural and gratifying. Greatest thing about this romance is the fact that it truly kicks off because Xie Jing Xing did not know to guard against horny drunk Shen Miao lmao!

The translation is pretty good outside of some clunky grammar, but once you train your eyes to glaze over the the five-millionth time the translator inserts directly into the story to complain about how often the LI is described as hot (unlike every other character, I guess???) as if this book is their early 2000s fanfic, it gets even better! Another thing that may or may not be here nor there is that this author is really weird with age consistency. Like, “MC is forever un-aging while everyone else ages 2 years every few months” weird. Shen Miao is forever 14 until the time skip in which she is forever 16, while Xie Jing Xing goes from “the same age as the students” to “17/18ish” to “vaguely in his 20s” during the same course of time where we literally never see Shen Miao acknowledge a birthday in any year. As for more serious content warnings, this story involves underage relationships (including non-explicit sex, marriage, and pregnancy), rape as a weapon, (assumed) incest between cousins, child abuse, and described but not explicitly shown torture. Though there are some humorous parts, this is not a lighthearted story. Read if you want something dark with an ultimate happy ending.

Translation: complete

[gripefroot]

Drabble request: Elain & Azriel getting ready and going on their first official "date"/outing that's not in hiding. Canon complaint or modern au, doesn't matter. Thank youuu 💙🌸

“Are you ready?”

The words were whispered against the nape of her neck, where a necklace had just been clasped. Smiling to herself, eyes closed, Elain teetered backwards into his tender kiss until Azriel’s hands caught her shoulders to keep her upright. Tickling shadows skated up her arms, left bare in the style of gown, and made her shiver. Or was that Azriel’s nose tucking into her hair? 

“I’m ready,” she said. 

Was ever a more obvious lie spoken? All day long something had buffered between the present and what was to come. Now those buffers were gone. Nothing to step between them and fate, nothing to cushion the landing. 

But Azriel didn’t point out the lie. He soothed her nerves with his presence, with his warm hands and lips pressing tiny reminders of love on her skin. When he peeled away, Elain sucked in a sudden breath. No more lingering. Anxiety pounced, claws tearing into her belly. 

“We can do it.” The words were quiet from her lips: Azriel walked around her to bow low. She didn’t curtsy, because her knees might give out with how badly they were shaking. He smiled as he lifted his face. Shadows stroked his face, wreathing him better than any crown. 

Her nerves quieted. 

He held out a hand. “My lady.” Amusement made his lips twitch. “May I escort you to dinner?”

As if she’d be able to eat a thing. Elain placed her hand in his offered once, his scarred fingers giving hers a comforting squeeze. 

“Yes,” she said. “Please.”

“You can lean on me, if you need to.” Azriel tucked her arm through his, keeping his eyes on her face as he straightened to tower over her. Elain put her opposite hand on his wrist for the added support. 

“I know.” 

She could live his smile. Revel in it, bathe in it, never look at anything else again. He was so generous with his smile, when it was only them. And soon it wouldn’t be only them. Soon the evening would snatch that smile away from him, and her, and she didn’t know when she’d see it again. 

One evening. One more evening. Perhaps not even that long. Perhaps an hour, and it will be over. 

To the door he walked her, while shadows snaked up to fuss with the latch. It opened with a click, the hinges moving silently as the door swung open. 

The wards Azriel had placed to keep her chambers quietly burst open, bathing them in what had been held at bay for the last hours: reverberating peals of bells, shouts and cries echoing up and down the open-air corridors. A few steps out of the chamber took them to a swinging rope ladder to the next tree; bonfires had been lit on the forest floor, surrounded by shrieking fae beating their chests. Elain peeked over, though Azriel hummed a warning. Both men and women cut their hair in shades of browns and reds and blacks and golds, throwing the offerings onto the fires and making the air stink. 

“Yes,” she said, dizzy from the height and leaning back into Azriel. “That is what I saw.” The reminder of the sickening vision made her blood rush with surety, and nausea. It was less pleasant to see with her physical eyes. 

“I’ll find that comforting, then.” Azriel covered her clenched hand with his. “We are meant to be here, my love. And to me, that means we’re meant to leave here.” 

Yes, they would leave. Neither would die in this place. But Elain hesitated to find comfort in that notion that Azriel did; not being destined to die didn’t mean undestined to be mortally wounded or maimed. She kept that to herself, stepping cautiously onto the planks of the ladder. Two weeks and she hadn’t become fully accustomed to walking a hundred feet over the ground. Even with the certainty that Azriel could catch her before she’d fallen ten feet, if a plank were to give out. 

The typical sentinels at each tree and each wooden room built among the branches were absent. Planked walls kept most of the noise out as they strode through the towering room to the next bridge; she could hear her skirt swish-swishing on the crinkled leaves strewn over the floor. 

One more bridge and they’d enter the dining hall. 

No time left to fret. No time left to fear. The hardest part had already been done. Elain’s hand dropped from Azriel’s arm, clutching at her skirts as if the sheer fabric would dry the damp sweat from her palm. Immediately cool shadows wrapped around her arm, swallowing up her hand as if to give it icy kisses, to freeze away her hot nerves. 

This was not the first time she didn’t want to attend a dinner party. With eternity stretching ahead of her, she doubted it would be the last. 

No sentinels to the great doors of the dining hall, either, but they didn’t need them: shadows nudged the doors open, inch by inch, while golden candlelight inside spilled out and blinded Elain’s eyes. She kept her chin high. Azriel’s forearm tensed beneath her hand. 

The hall was empty. 

Compared to their first evenings in the court, the hollowness made the giant space eerie. Echoing and cold, though warm light flickered from candles on the walls and in the chandeliers large enough to embrace thirty bodies or more in the iron circle. Red and orange leaves, twisted into garlands, were draped all the way through. The tables were set, too, though no dishes of food had been brought. 

If Elain were still human, she’d find the entire scene chilling. A well-dressed table, empty of life and sustenance. 

But they didn’t stop to stare. Azriel escorted her straight to her seat near the head of the table, releasing her only to pull out the chair. The legs scraped on the planked floors. Elain gave him a smile, as best she could under the circumstances, and sat. 

“How long will we wait?” she whispered when he took the seat next to her. He should have sat across; that was where he had been placed at the welcome feast and remained ever since. But that night…that night was different. The trees themselves howled. 

“Long enough,” was Azriel’s response. 

“You want them to know.” Elain had thought they would be concealed in secrets. By the lazy twist of smile he cast her, she knew she was right. 

“There is no way they couldn’t.” 

How could he be so calm? So assured? Her feet tapped in her slippers against the floor to relieve some energy. Her fingers twisted her skirt in her hands, eyes darting from each of the doors that led into the dining hall. Everyone must eat, after all, even on a day like that. Guests couldn’t be entirely forgotten. Although being able to slip away into the shadows without anyone knowing presented a mighty temptation…

It was too late to act on it. Thundering footsteps sounded, clattering the rope bridges as they drew nearer. Elain stiffened, and Azriel’s hand flew to her lap to cover her hand. 

It will be alright.

He didn’t say the words aloud, and he didn’t look her way. Hazel eyes trained on the west door, where smoke was visible rising from the bonfires below. 

This was how it was meant to be.

Cold comfort. ‘Meant to be’ did not include best possible outcome or most painless experience.

She’d scrubbed her hands for hours. Flaking off blood from beneath her fingernails, soaking it out of the folds of her knuckles. She still felt the itch of drying blood, still felt the way it had flowed over her skin. She shuddered. 

The door flew open. 

“Pardon us for not standing on niceties!” Eris’s welcome was more of a roar. Could Elain see licks of flame lashing up his fingers and through his hair? Or was that her imagination? He strode in with the fury and rage of wildfire, smelling of ash. His boots left sootprints. 

Behind him, the court. His mother, a brother or two, distant relations and fae of importance (true or believed) scuttled around for their chairs, looking harassed. More than one individual had not dressed for dinner; several had burned patches of clothing and one female still had curlers in her hair. Chair legs scraped the floor, the room heady with new, sweltering warmth that made sweat break out on Elain’s bosom. Eris was the only one that remained standing, beside his father’s chair at the head of the table with his hands clasped behind his back. 

He may as well have been a dragon from a fairy tale Elain used to fall asleep listening to in her father’s voice. Liable to burst into flame, or to rain hellfire down on the table to melt his guests. His eyes flashed piercing, painful light: she looked away. 

“Dinner will be served presently,” Eris said, his tone taking on some formality. His posture said otherwise. His posture said fight. “I appreciate the patience of all gathered here today.” 

It was quiet as a grave. Which suited. 

“All I can say for what has occurred this day,” his voice began to shake. “Is that the perpetrator will be found and brought down by the laws of the Autumn Court.” His searing eyes drifted across the table. Elain’s mouth went dry when they paused on her. But they continued to Azriel. “I had hope, Shadowsinger,” Eris continued in a carrying, sardonic tone, “that you might assist with our investigation. As that is where your particular skills lie.”

“I am gratified to hear you think so much of my…particular skills.” Azriel’s voice was lower than thunder, darker than night compared to the enraged prince. “But you hope in vain.”

“Ah.” Eris’s eyes twitched. “And may I ask - why?” 

Politics at the dinner table. Elain tired of it. It had been that way the entirety of their stay; courtiers humiliated and dragged and messy court business brought to Beron while he ate and others attempted to. 

“Certainly,” Azriel said. “I will not assist because I already know.”

Eris blinked. Hushed whispers traveled up and down the table, mouth to ear to mouth to ear with sleeves rustling. Only the Lady of the Autumn Court remained impassive. 

“You know,” Eris repeated. Some of his fire winked out. “You know who slayed my father, the High Lord of the Autumn Court?”

“I do,” Azriel said. 

Frost and flame met in a bridge, nearly visible, so thick was the tension. Eris puffed out his chest, drawing himself taller. Shadows flitted around the hem of Elain’s skirt, some seeking solace around her ankles as if she might spare them from the prince’s wrath. 

“Well?” Eris prompted. “Will you share with his grieving court, the party guilty of his death?” 

“Certainly,” Azriel said again. Elain noted the mirth hiding in the corners of his mouth - he was enjoying this. How he could tolerate these court games, she could only wonder. But his amusement made her want to laugh, too, and nothing could possibly make the situation worse than for her to laugh. 

He drew out the moment longer, taking his time to look up and down the table much as Eris had. Power pulsated from him, reminding everyone present of who he was and what he could do. Elain wanted to kiss him. To kiss that wry mouth and hold his taut jaw until he sunk and relaxed against her. 

“Beron,” Azriel said, the very name a curse between his lips “was killed by my wife.” 

Her ears rang with silence. Mouths fell open, gasps halted in crowded throats. Eris stared. Then, inexplicably, began to laugh. 

“You have no wife!” he claimed. “Even that gossip would have traveled from your sacred city. The only Shadowsinger in this land, the famed torturer of the Night Lord. Do you confess, then, that you killed my father? I might remind you that such action is a violation of all treaties between our lands! You have no right to enter our court and kill its people, let alone its Lord.” 

“I did not kill your father,” Azriel said. Calm as ever. And smiling. Not the smile he’d graced Elain with only a half-hour earlier, but something that hinted at a quiet death before dawn. “I really feel quite clear, Eris. I did not kill Beron, though I would have found it satisfying. I will repeat one more time, and only once: my wife killed your father.” 

The heat rose. Beads of sweat cascaded from the back of Elain’s neck to soak into the neckline of her gown. She hadn’t thought to bring a fan.

“And not only did she kill him,” Azriel’s voice rose a fraction, wings spluttering behind him as shadowy fingers gripped the edge of the table, spreading black. “But after the killing blow she stabbed him again and again. Do you hear me, Eris? Do you know what your father did?” 

Eris, sweating himself at the temples, was paler than the center of a flame. His lips lost all color. His mother stared into her lap. 

“Lord Beron, High Lord of the Autumn Court, attempted to kidnap my wife, who is not part of his court, to take her forcefully to marry your brother. Do you understand, Eris?” 

The last words were a whisper. No one spoke. 

Finally Eris’s gaze slipped to Elain. “She cannot be your wife,” he said, though his voice lacked surety. 

“Then you knew of the plot.” Azriel’s smile was cold. “Does Autumn Court law outline punishments for accomplices?” 

Eris’s lips peeled back, a sign of predatory danger. For all of Azriel’s tenderness since the morning, for all of his understanding and serenity and patience, Elain sensed how ready he was to snap. Eris, too, though for a different reason. 

They’d had enough. Enough time to spit and strut and do whatever it was that made male fae so…so brash and possessive. Elain stood from her chair, keeping Eris’s attention - and indeed the rapt interest of everyone in the hall - on her. 

“I will extract no punishment for your knowledge of your father’s intentions,” she said. Her voice rang clear despite her knees knocking together beneath her skirt. “I prepared a written testimony for whatever legal considerations you may have, as has my husband as a witness.” 

Elain had little stomach for the intrigue. She could air out the entirety of the situation for the guests to hear; to explain how Beron had bound her with magic while she was in the garden after dawn and tied her to his horse to cart to the nearest temple where he claimed Lucien awaited her. Undignified work for a High Lord, and wildly underhanded, and she’d desperately wanted to tell him so. 

Azriel had found them before they’d gone more than a few miles. The companionable shadows that tickled her ankles now had rushed to him and wakened him in her chamber. He’d tracked them, concealed himself, and broken the spells on Elain. 

After that had been a confusing mess, ending with Elain covered in leaves and stabbing Beron with his own knife. More than once. And then she’d cried for quite a while after that, while Azriel plucked every leaf from her body. 

“I should have killed him for you,” he’d said. 

“No,” she’d said between gulps. “It is my right to extract retribution. Not yours.” 

At least, as it made sense to her. But she knew nothing of Autumn laws and little of Night laws. 

“You,” Eris said. “You, who were mortal last year?”

“Four years ago,” Elain said. “But I understand the passage of years means little to you.” 

“You cannot have the power to overcome a High Lord,” Eris said. 

Elain said nothing. She wasn’t Nesta, acid and biting, nor was she Feyre, passionate and sensible. She was only Elain, and she had no desire for any of this. She wanted to return to her chamber with Azriel and lock the door and return home to the townhouse for a reprieve. 

Because soon, she’d have to face down Rhys and she wouldn’t be able to fall back on a written testimony. And Eris might bluster and kick on Lucien’s behalf…but it was a show. A show like the flames curling around his fists, a façade of smoke issuing from his doublet to convince his court that he was riled up and saddled for revenge. Not that Elain and Azriel hadn’t gone straight to him after Beron’s death. 

The courtiers shifted in their seats, more openly whispering as they studied Eris, Elain, and Azriel. 

“Leave,” Eris said, echoing from the gleaming ceilings to the dusty floor. Elain swayed, relief that it was over making her limbs weak. “Now!” he roared, and Azriel seized Elain’s elbow before she could fall. She sent Eris one grateful look, to which he gave the slightest nod. And the Lady of the Autumn Court smiled. 

Chatter broke out before they’d even made it through the door. 

“See?” Azriel chuckled into her hair as he practically carried her over the rope bridge, one arm around her waist and the other clasping her hand. “Simple as anything. And now we don’t have to sit through dinner.”

Elain could have cried, but she laughed instead. She laughed and laughed and laughed. 

“Many here will not see your defense as just,” Eris had warned them. “Males have the right over their mates. What my father did was justified, according to our laws.”

“But,” he’d added, smirking at the blood on her dress. “If you were married…you would have a shield against my brother's claim.” 

Azriel had told her, before dinner, that he’d never expected to thank Eris for anything. But now he was in the princes’s debt. They both were. 

Elain buried her face into Azriel’s shoulders, whisked away by his cool, steady strength. Eris had offered deliverance. That was one almost-High Lord taken care of. 

The other would come soon enough.

[thatmadshifter11]

The Shadowsinger and The Mistress of Love and Lust Pt.2

As the first rays of dawn break over the horizon, I finally allow myself to rest, leaning against him, our bodies entwined. His once bloody and torn wings are now starting to heal, the skin slowly knitting itself back together. There's still a long way to go, but we've made it through the night, and that's a victory in itself. I let myself relax against the man who I had loved for centuries the one who is now my mate, we haven't even gotten to talk about it the way we are bound to each other. To be completely honest I don’t know if I should even be sleeping beside him since he has said nothing to me other then “Mate” that doesn't mean he accepts it but it also doesn't mean he doesn’t.

I close my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to take over. But even as I drift off, I know that when I wake, I'll be ready to face another day, to continue the fight, to heal and protect my mate. I also know that he will do the same for me even if he doesn’t accept the Bond because that is just the type of man he is one with a heart. You may not be able to tell under all the brooding and shadowy exterior but he is one of the kindest most genuine men I have ever met.

His soft whisper rouses me from my sleep, "Thank you, Cici," and I squeeze his hand in response, and blush lightly noticing our proximity and the way we are both covered in his blood. “uh how about a bath?” I ask easing up from the bed moaning my exhaustion taking over me. Before my pain fully takes over I could’ve swore he said something about how he’d only take one if I joined him. I feel my old scars they are sore and my eyes are slowly lose their sight. I think quickly and using the last of my strength I winnow to Cassian and Nesta’s tent. “Cass? Nes?”

I stumble in blindly bumping into a wall- wait not a wall my best friend, Cass! “Cia are you alright?” he asks shaking me lightly and looking me over. “Where's Az is he ok” he asks frantic. “H-he's fine but I need help,” I say shakily. “My powers are weak and without anything to refuel them before I'm done with Az….” My eyes are welling up with my bloody gold tears and I let them fall.

Cass scoops me into a warm, brotherly hug. I hear Nesta approach, “What do you need to refuel?” she asks me and I can’t help but assume she is crossing her arms like I have watched her do for years when she gets curious. I smile, my senses and skills really show when I'm blind it almost makes me want to stay this way, but I will miss colors and glitter being able to see my family's smiling faces.

“Blood,” my voice shaky as I say it. Nesta huffs and hear footsteps shuffling around next thing I know I loose the presence of my best friend and I'm left myself. I can’t help but let my tears fall. I hear them again and Nesta approaches me grabbing my hands. “Eris said he’ll help he said he's done it before,” she says in a hushed tone.

Which brings me back to the time I spent with Eris camped in a cave hiding from threats, as he survived on animals we killed and my powers keeping him afloat as I kept myself replenished with his strong High Fae blood. He was the first High Fae I had ever drunken from. He allowed me to keep drinking from him as long as he stayed strong and healthy we survived 4 months out in the wilderness that way.

“Where is he?! I need it now,” I say agitated wanting to get back to my mate. “He is going to the healing tent to gather supplies,” “Alright thank you so much Nes,” I said leaning up to give her a kiss on the check which ends up rather sloppily on her ear. She laughs, a sound I haven’t heard from her in awhile. Eris helps me and gives me a few bags of fresh blood so I don't have to wonder around like that again. I rush back to Az fully recharged and ready to help him as much as I can.

[cheegu3]

Hello, do you write for lsrfm because if you do can you write one about how they would react to you cheating on them (if you can't do all its ok at least do my wife yunjin please, and if you can't do it's ok)

yes to more girl groups !!! 🫡 I was excited to write this, couldn’t just stop at Yunjin 😭😭

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, cheating, violence, possessiveness, jealousy, unhealthy relationships, non-con voyeurism, depression, guilt-tripping, sex, murder, blood, crying

Le sserafim - reaction to you cheating on them

Chaewon

She would completely lose it. Would find out on her own and not because you told her. Since she stalked you, she knew right away and connected the rest in her head.

When you came home she was already waiting for you. Things laid on the floor; smashed and ripped up, some were yours and others were just random things.

But she was ready for round two when you came home. Immediately, she'd scream at the top of her lungs and tears would flow down her face as she started hitting you, letting her anger out.

It would be impossible to get a word out until she had worn herself out a bit. Her makeup was completely ruined, the mascara had left streaks down her face and her eyes looked puffy.

'' I'm so sorry, '' was all you could say, hands up by your face in case she'd attack you again.

A few gasps of air left her trembling lips, '' No you're not! '' she managed to scream despite not having much energy left.

'' I am, Chae. Please, let's talk about this. ''

Your begging didn't make her sympathetic, her eyes only narrowed as she glared at you openly.

'' You'll get much worse than this tomorrow. '' she laughed manically, ready to drag you into a room.

Sakura

She seemed nice at first. Slowly her smile upon seeing you come home faded the more you talked, letting the harsh truth settle in.

But after some silence, she said that she forgave you. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off of your shoulders.

In the next few days, she made you feel guilty about cheating on her. Although she was a psycho girlfriend that you didn’t really want to be with; her kindness made you see her in a different light, therefor you started to feel horrible at the pain you’d caused her.

She made sure to show you how much she loved you, being more willing than ever to take care of you. She cooked for you, fed you, even dressed you and made baths for you.

One night you came home a bit later than usual. You were preparing for her to be angry and suspicious, accusing you of cheating again. But when you walked into the bedroom, an entirely different scene greeted you.

Your girlfriend laid sprawled out, naked on the bed. Both men and women surrounded her, taking turns to kiss or touch her while lewd noises left her hanging mouth.

It didn't take long for one of the people sitting on the bed to spot you in the doorframe. The shock had frozen you, so they didn't have to struggle to tie you down to a chair in the corner.

Then they went back to her. Sakura's eyes finally drifted towards you, the corners of her mouth stretched into a sadistic smirk.

'' How does it feel? ''

Yunjin

Without a word she pushed past you and left out the door. When you were frantically texting and calling her for the next few hours, she ignored it all.

Only when she came home in the middle of the night could you relax - but not for long of course.

As soon as the door opened, you ran over to give her a hug, hoping that it would calm her down since you had imagined she left to cool off with a walk.

You were way off. Your arms started stretching out to hug her and that's when you spotted the scarlet dots decorating her jacket and smeared streaks across her face.

'' Y-Yunjin? ''

She stepped forward, causing you to take one back. You were terrified now, not recognizing your girlfriend in front of you. Her face was blank and pale, the only color being the blood.

Your hand got grabbed in quite a hard grip and you were dragged to the bathroom and pushed in. At first, you thought she was going to lock you in there. Somehow it was worse; she got in after you as well and then locked the door, when she turned, her lips twitched and her eyes bore into yours.

'' What are you doing? ''

She walked past you and next you heard the shower turn on somewhere behind you. The next second, you could feel her cold fingertips start to pull at your clothes while skillfully removing her own at the same time.

'' I'm not letting you out of my sight, now's your chance to make it up to me. ''

Kazuha

You thought you were dreaming when she kicked you out. The last thing you saw before she slammed the door in your face was her furious expression.

In the silence that came next, it finally hit you that you got what you'd wanted for so long, to get away from her and be free. A smile spread on your face and even a small laugh slipped past your lips.

You went home the happiest you'd been in months, looking forward to the future now that it was looking much less bleak.

However, your euphoria didn't last long. About two weeks into your separation from Kazuha, you had a sour revelation - she was right all along, you couldn't live without her, she was all you had.

The money had started to run out and your apartment's lease was ending soon too. Worst of all was that you had no friends to turn to for help, because Kazuha had made you stop talking to all of them, convincing you they were horrible people.

In the end, you stood outside her door again feeling lonelier than ever while hesitating to knock on the door.

It seemed the universe made the decision for you anyway; you didn't have time to turn back and go home before the door swung open.

Your ex came out, hands full with trash. You weren't sure if you wanted to curse fate or thank it that she just happened to leave just as you were waiting outside her door like a puppy.

She didn't look angry like the last time you'd seen her, in fact her eyes had a slight sparkle to them when they spotted you - she still loved you.

'' I knew you would come crawling back. ''

Eunchae

She left you stunned and at a loss for words when she burst into tears. You weren't sure what to do. The pain in her crying voice almost made your heart twist in pain, even if you knew she was a bad person.

It would continue to do so for the next week when Eunchae rarely left her room. During the few times she opened the door, you dove in to clean up. It was always messy with the blinds being pulled all the way down and a bunch of things were stacked on top of each other.

A small seed of guilt had been planted inside you the first time you went inside the room and saw her laying there, staring blankly at the wall. It grew any time you were back in that place and even more when she'd look at you as if you had ripped her heart out. She was so empty, you felt hopeless and didn't know what to do.

Maybe you shouldn't have, but you started sleeping next to her, to give some sense of comfort and support.

It started with a few nights here and there, which then turned into every single night. The moment you'd turn away from her fake crying she'd smile, but you never noticed.

'' I'm sorry, '' you mumbled in the dark, closing your eyes while grimacing, you knew she wouldn't respond.

Of course it was all part of her plan. Yes, she did felt like shit after the heartbreak you'd put her through, but why was it so wrong of her to manipulate you into feeling bad for her because of it?

'' Thank you, '' she finally whispered back tenderly during the eight night in a row that you'd spent by her side.

Eunchae needed you to understand her pain by making you feel guilty so you could share some of it with her. She hoped it would soothe her feelings and make you become a bit nicer to her in the future.

So far everything was working out exactly the way she wanted it to.

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 3k Warnings: swears, talks of death, blood, talks of period blood in particular, someone being shot.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

(Red Right Hand by Arctic Monkeys)

JAX.

The night was heavy with the dread of oncoming death. But whose? That was still undecided.

Guns had been aimed, with triggers ready to be pulled. Even though the meeting was supposed to be weapon-free.

    “So much for reliability and transparency,” Jax uttered. His heart may have been pounding but with adrenaline over fear.

This meeting with a potential partner in Cara-Cara, was deemed somewhat reliable by Bobby. So, hell it was a surprise to find these gentlemen so gun happy. Bobby wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the club. Both Sons knew that, so what the fuck was with these guys.

If it were truly up to Jax, he wouldn’t be looking for another partner, but with Nero desperate to pull out, he had no other choice but to look at other investors.

   And fuck, this guy wasn’t one to wait. This meeting was set for two weeks and now it was suddenly rushed to today.

  Oddly enough, everything had seemed to be alright, until the bald-headed Russian asshole took a joke too far. The girls at Cara-Cara were treated with respect. It was a non-negotiation. Women were constantly mistreated in Charming, Jax had seen it with his own eyes, hell, Gemma and Tara had been assaulted in the past. Jax never wanted that to happen, let alone in a company he owned.

  Chibs’ eyes flickered from his president to the exit, and Jax subtly shook his head. Like fuck he’d let Chibs risk himself. They looked at each other, truly looking and almost in silent communication Jax said, ‘we get out and we get out together.’

   Chibs’ jaw ticked.

  “So, boys. What’s it gonna be?” The Bossman with a shaved head said.

  “I think I’m gonna have to go with … go fuck yourself,” Jax said with a smile. He wanted to rile this fucker up. Was it the right move? Maybe…maybe not. But you never knew when a man would back down – over respect, intimidation, or approval.

ZO.

(Night Creeper by the Blackwater Fever)

You awoke with a knot in your stomach. One that you couldn’t get rid of. No matter what you did. Stretching, hot baths, hot water bottles, and then you saw the blood, and everything made sense.

   Of course, you were in your period, it sucked but it was also … a bit of a positive. You definitely weren’t ready to have children. Not now, not yet.

 As you boiled the kettle for what seemed like the hundredth time, you crouched down and rested your head against the kitchen bench, groaning.

     “Fuck, I feel like I’ve been shot,” you moaned, one hand holding your stomach, rubbing ever so gently. This month was one of the worser ones. Like a pattern, your body either gave you a light easier period or a heavier harder one.

   When your kettle finished boiling, you emptied your hot water bottle and filled it. A few drops missed the opening and landed on your hand.

    “Fuck!” You yelled, already irritated, and nearly gave up. But your stomach lurched again, and you pushed on. “Not fair,” you mumbled, and slumped to the couch, where a bunch of snacks lay ready for you. The tv was flicked on and laid down, curling onto your side.

 You looked at the clock and frowned, usually Jax would call around this time, but there were no notifications on your phone.

JAX.

The big-bellied boss laughed and lowered his guns. As he did so, all of his men followed. The dread was slowly starting to leak from the room. But all the doors and windows were pulled shut, so it was taking its time to leave.

  “I like him,” the man said. His Russian so thick it was comical.  

Winking at Chibs, who came to stand to Jax’s right, he angled his body between the most guns and his president.

The fat Russian continued to speak. A lot of bullshit tumbled from his mouth, but still, Jax and Chibs were on high alert. As they always were.

   That’s how the Sons of Anarchy had survived so long under Jax’s rule, never let your guard down. And never let the other guy see it still up.   

So, they lowered their guns too. But when Jax turned to leave, telling the Russian he would be in touch, the man knew he wasn't going to get the partnership.

And the Russian mobster wasn't used to being denied.

ZO.

(Done All Wrong by the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)

The afternoon had gone by slowly, as the pain never left. You had already told Skeeter you weren’t coming in, and when he asked why, he was absolutely awkward about it. As if he didn’t have one of the gorier jobs. What was period blood compared to dead bodies?

  Getting up from the couch was difficult, but you did it. You wanted to take your pups for a walk before they had their dinner, and it got too dark.

  Their leashes were tucked in the same spot they always were, and whenever you went near that area, even without the intention of a walk, their tails would wag.

    “Yes, walkies!” You exclaimed, clipping their collars.

But as you walked, you could feel the blood moving with gravity. Only a short walk, you thought and looked down at your two large dogs, their faces full of pure delight.

  Opening and closing the front door, you turned around to lock it, when you felt the presence of someone behind you. Whipping around, you saw a face you really wish wasn’t there.

  Gemma Teller-Morrow, dressed in black jeans, a grey top that showed her chest scar and wearing big black high-heeled boots. Ones you were sure she slept in. You couldn’t envision her in anything else. Her black and blonde hair was perfectly curled and slightly brushed, giving it a voluminous affect. She was a beautiful woman. But intimidation practically leaked from her.

  Both your dogs moved to stand in front of you.

   “Ugh, hi,” you said with an awkward smile. You, on the opposite hand, were wearing the baggiest pants you could find and a jumper, with joggers (and mismatched socks). Hair greasy and pulled in a bun from your face, you felt vulnerable; practically naked, in front of her.

  With pinched lips, she said, “hi,” and the hands that were on her hips moved to cross in front of her.

   You wanted to ask what the fuck she was doing here, but absolutely did not.

“You know Jax is away?” Her voice was almost disinterested, as if she had been forced to be here. But no one was in the car you had located behind your own.

   The boys must be with Wendy then.

“Ugh yeah, I helped him pack.”

      “Hmm, well I haven’t ugh, heard from him.” Now you understood. She thought Jax was here for some reason. And she came looking for him.

   “Neither have I actually,” you said, shifting your weight to one leg. The sun was setting, creating a slowly drifting picture of purple, pink, orange and yellow across the sky.

   “Huh,” she said, moving her hands into her back pockets and clucking her tongue, “thought he might be here.”

  Ding ding, fucking ding. As if you would be that irresponsible – or Jax for that matter. You two were grown-ups and knew how to act. Why was this lady running after her grown-ass son?

  You were doing all you could not to let your thoughts show on your face, so you shifted again. And thankfully, one of your pups whined; easing the tension.

    “Right, you taking ‘em on a walk?” Gemma said, in your mind you instantly replied with ‘fucking duh,’ but only nodded.

  “Mind if I join you?”

JAX.

(Dad's Gonna Kill Me by Richard Thompson)

Getting shot isn't the same feeling for everyone.

Jax hadn't fully felt the bullet in his right hip; he thought it had only grazed the bone.

The gunfire didn’t cease, however, and revealing his wound to Chibs wasn’t going to help. Jax wasn’t sure if the bullet was still inside his body, but thoughts like that weren't helpful right now. All he could focus on was getting the both of them out.

Holed up against the side of the bar, there was barely enough coverage for one man.

   Yelling, “cover meh!” The Scotsman knocked over a few of the bar’s table and chairs. Creating a sort of barricade.

  Even shot, Jax was a great aim. Taking out an arm with each bullet, gave Chibs more time to create their defence.

In a heated moment, Chibs picked up one of the cheap stools and threw it across the room. It landed with a loud smash, as once a glass table now lay in a million pieces.

   “WHAT IS WITH THESE MOTHERFUCKERS!” The fat Russian yelled, his face red, bleating. His blood pressure monitor started beeping; his wife made him go to the doctors to get his weight under control. And that gave the mobster a 24/7 monitor to wear underneath his clothes.

  For a beat the gunshots stopped as the beeping sounded, and the hired guns stopped to check on their boss. He had been fine, and then he watched as the Sons got up and ran.

    And then the Russian stopped being able to breathe. 

Bursting out the door and into the bright daylight, the two men covered their faces and ran toward their bikes, Jax leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

   “Almost free Jackie boy,” Chibs said as he got out his keys.

Doing the same, the blonde Son was about to shove the keys in the ignition when they fell out of his wet, red hand.

    “Fuck,” Jax growled as he bent down, but as he did so, he saw six pairs of black boots coming from the same door they ran from.

   “Jackie, what-“ And then Chibs saw the soaked through shirt, the blood on Jax’s hands and the paleness in his face.

 “FUCK,” he yelled, grabbing onto both sets of keys and jumping behind Jax. Chibs would sacrifice his bike for his president any day. And today was that goddamn day.

     The group of men were nearly upon them, as Chibs fiddled with the keys.

“Fucking put them in,” Jax said with a slight slur. Maybe it was just a bone graze… Jax was thinking and thinking and reached out a hand to touch his side and screamed.

  Punctured.

The word rung in his mind before he could even process it.

   And all the while Chibs had finally turned on the engine and revved. Leaving the men behind in a wall of dust.

   “I got you Jackie, I got you-“ Chib’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the engine. But Jax heard it nonetheless. He always would be with Chibs. But maybe this was something that no one who loved him could save him from.  

ZO.

How could you say no? You couldn’t. That’s why you were now walking side by side with Gemma, your dogs looking behind you every few seconds, keeping an eye on the ‘threat.’

   If you were supposed to say something first, then you had no idea. Your lips were clamped shut, your mind an untuned tv; fuzzy and loud.

You had walked to the end of your block in silence, until Gemma asked, “do you love him?”

   Stunned. You almost choked on your intake of air. It was a miracle that you hadn't tripped over your own feet.

How could you tell her before telling Jax? It felt like a betrayal in a way.

  “Of course, I do.”

The words left your mouth before any other thought could appear.

   The steady crunch of Gemma’s boots on the sidewalk gravel was the only noise for about a minute. Then she said, “you know he had a wife-“

“I know his backstory,” you cut in. Doing your best not to roll your eyes. Was she this far behind? This out of the loop? Should you be insulted or grateful that Jax wasn’t telling his mother about his relationship?

CHIBS.

(You're Not God by Anna Calvi)

The road was long ahead of them, the dirt and rubble kicking up where the wheel’s trekked. There wasn’t a moment for pause, not one second to spare so Chibs could look over his shoulder. Jax was nearly limp in his arms; slumped against him, barely able to keep his balance.

   They hadn’t been gone long, but soon the club would be worried if they didn’t hear anything soon. And Chibs knew Zo, Jax’s Old Lady, would be hanging on, waiting for the phone to ring. Chibs always noticed things like that. Things that the others didn’t.

Men were terrible at keeping in touch with each other, it was the women in their lives that they checked in with. Most men found it overbearing, but really they should be grateful. It made them think, kept them moving and ultimately kept them alive.

   That’s how Chibs felt about the other Old Ladies as well. Especially Tara, who had a lot on her plate, and needed to know if Jax was okay. When he was coming home. It wasn’t the only reason why Chibs would leap in front of a bullet for a brother. Whoever was in this club, was his family. That’s why he would give his life for theirs. Especially when they had more to lose than he.

  No one knew, but he felt like his life wasn’t as important as the others, whose family (or ex-family) was still close to them. The woman he loved and the only daughter he had were on the other side of the world. If he died, it wouldn’t change anything for them.

    And he could be replaced. Easily in the club.

But he’d never say that out loud.

So, like every day, Chibs pushed on, knowing his president’s life depended on him. On his next move.

GEMMA.

(Fight Like Gods by Chelsea Wolfe)

   Gemma was worried to say the least. She hadn’t heard from Jax in a while, and she thought he was over at your place, forgetting his responsibilities.

  The whole ride over to your house, Gemma’s car had been silent except for her constant monologue. (She never used her radio - the presenters were complete morons in her opinion).

   “I’m going to rip her ear’s from her head if he’s there,” her violent promises falling on no ears but her own. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel so hard she couldn’t feel them when she pulled up.

   There was a moment where she debated bumping the back of your car, just giving it a little dent. But she was thankful she didn’t when she saw you come out with your dogs.

   Gemma knew Jax wouldn’t be at your place if you were taking your dogs on a walk, especially with a shirt that had a massive stain in it. But she asked you, nonetheless, to see what your face looked like when it was telling the truth.

   Talking over coffee in a café wasn’t really Gemma’s ‘thing,’ she was used to randomly pulling up to people’s houses unannounced. It made it harder for them to turn her away. So, Gemma knew good and well that it was a bit rude to intrude on your dog walk, knowing you wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say no.

   And when she asked if you loved Jax, your face didn’t change; she knew you were telling the truth.

But every so often she could see your face screw up, not knowing that it was the cramps. Well, not until she saw the blood on the back of your pants.

ZO.

(Oui Oui Marie by Chelsea Wolfe - slow + reverb)

 Everything was fine.

Even though you were sweating, your stomach hurt and you felt like your head was going to explode. There was a moment after Gemma said something, that she stopped and grabbed ahold of your arm. Halting you, and your dogs, suddenly, Gemma said it was time to go home.

   Frowning, you gave her an incredulous look, and with nothing for her to give you to cover it up, she thought it was best not to alert you. But damn your stubbornness. You weren’t going to be told what to do.

   “We’re not finished with our walk,” you said, or rather, snapped. Another cramp squeezing your uterus; making your thighs ache and stomach lurch.

“Oh you definitely are,” Gemma said, starting to turn around, expecting you to follow.

    “They aren’t tired yet,” you reasoned, a hand on your hip. Completely unaware that your grey sweatpants were reddening.

  “Just shut up and listen, you’re leaking,” Gemma retorted, the kindness fleeing her instantaneously.

“Well fuck!” You said, trying to turn around and see.

‘Oh’ was all you said as you followed her home.

JAX.

  The Prince of Charming, also known as the Prince of Death, did not receive his latter title because of all the deaths he had endured, but the ones he had ensured.

    This life had promised violence. It had promised death, and he had stayed the course. Even if he tried to leave with Tara and the boys at one point.

  It was death that made him stay in this particular way of life.

And it would be this way of life that caused his death.

  That very thought swirled around Jax’s mind. It was so ironic that he actually found it somewhat humorous. Death and life, life and death. The two always interconnected.

  “Stay with me Jackie boy!” Chibs roared over the rumble of the motorcycle.

The sunset was a reprieve from the jostling of the bike. With each mile gained, less consciousness Jax retained. And he soon found out that not being able to use his core to sit straight, made riding a whole lot less enjoyable.

   All he could think about was the people he loved. His boys, Zo, his mother, and his brothers. What his death would bring. How much grieving there would be; it made him sick to think about it. Or maybe it was the bullet lodged in his side that was making him feel ill.

    A thumping began in his temple, a headache that drained his energy. It must be the adrenaline wearing off, he thought.  

 The bike continued to tear down the road and Jax could feel himself bleeding. He didn’t know if he was bleeding out, or just … casually bleeding.

Not daring to look; in case he fell off the bike and threw Chibs off with him. Jax knew that at this speed, it would end up killing them both. He stayed still. Trying his best to keep his breathing steady and his eyes open.

  And yet, Jax had no idea where Chibs was going or what the Scotsman was doing, only that he trusted him. And that trust was either going to kill him or save him.

[abbonation]

Lost Apprentice, Chapter I: Get Clean

Admitting you have a problem is the hardest part.

Explicit, 18+ content ~1.9k words

A/N: Welcome one, welcome all to the first full length fic of mine that isn't only smut! Blame it on the anti-depressants, blame it on the times but a bitch is needing some story goddamnit. Something with some bite to it. Which is something I've honestly never written before; that being said- feedback is welcomed and encouraged! This first chapter is shorter but I have the next few started and will hopefully update a couple times a week as I have time between work and school :)

CWs: accidental voyeurism; like 1 (one) horny thought?? It's light asf this chapter but let me know if you notice other necessary warnings I didn't include!!

Chapter I: Get Clean

A loud sight of relief escapes you upon stepping over the threshold of the combination bar and inn located— where the fuck are we? Eriadu? Ahh right, a small town on Eriadu. The jungle planet known only for its proximity to both the Hydian Way and Rimma trade route.

It had been nineteen, yes, nineteen full day cycles since your last shower, and technically you didn’t start feeling really nasty until about the seventh cycle mark, seeing as the first three were spent in hyperspace, but still. Over two full galactic weeks. No shower. And of course the Crest didn’t have even a sonic shower, yet Mando wondered why you seemed to be feeling stressed. Certainly it had nothing to do with the utter stink that was surely wafting off your body at this point, knowing full well he had the credits to install a complete fresher on the ship.

But, you were here now, a few warn down buildings, most covered in moss, but civilization nonetheless, where Mando had said We’ll refuel and rest up- then I’ll take you home.

He approached the bar where a Trandoshan man stands, wiping the counter. 

“Are your bathing stalls private?” Mando asks, hands on his utility belt. 

“Well, there are no bath stalls, but we have a bath house; it’s 5 credits a person, you get an hour. It’s public but there ain’ been a soul in there all day, so it’s all yours.” He smiles and you nod in thanks.

Mando turns to you, you can almost see the raised eyebrows on his face through the visor.

“I don’t mind sharing, I mean, if you’re okay with it.” you throw your hands up, honestly you’d wash in a mud puddle at this point if it meant feeling any less dirty than you are right now. 

He turns back to the bartender, passing him 10 credits and walking where he points, they’re just down the stairs and behind the double doors. Enjoy. You glare at his smirk.

—

“I don’t, uh, want to make you wait so you can go first,” Mando stumbles out, holding his towels. 

“Nah, it’s okay, you are the captain and all,” you respond- even if what you’d like to say is ‘Sounds great, if I have to smell like hot garbage for even one more minute I may implode.” 

“No really, I insist, it���s my fault we’re late getting back anyway.” He looks down at the tiled floor.

You think about how he insisted you stay by the treeline as the group of criminals passed by. There was no bounty catching or murdering scheduled for this trip, you were just supposed to be helping him find a pre-galactic war era ruin that was rumored to be in the jungle on this planet. Yet, there they were, and there he went. You had ended up intervening, shouting some shit like, “Oh no Mando! I’m so scared!” Trying to distract the attackers. Four armed men looked like they should’ve been a struggle, but he handled it no problem, especially with your distraction. They turned and two began running towards you, and Mando had to duck and weave between the other two to reach them. You had your dagger out and at the ready, slicing at one of them when he got you up against a tree. When he lunged towards your neck, you dropped your weight, stabbing the dagger into the meat of his thigh and pulling up, slicing through his flesh. He shrieked and fell in pain, blood dripping down your arms. You quickly removed the dagger, turning to run from him, when you looked back to see Mando stomping on his face. You swallow and stare at the boot shaped hole he was making, growling in effort, the other three men lay surrounding Mando. You hold the knife out again when he turns towards you, an unintentional move following what you just bared witness to. 

He stepped forward, “Why did you do that?” He’s angry. 

“I-I’m sorry I was trying-” you sound weak, and you hate it.

“I don’t care about ‘trying to help’. You could’ve been killed. Or worse, and you know it.” He’s closer now, still angry, but less yelling in your face.

“I thought I could help.” You say to the ground. 

He releases a breath and turns, resuming the trek back out of the forest towards the Crest. 

—

And after the small amount of back and forth, here you are. Sharing the deep stone bath, overflowing with steamy lavender and salt scented water, the stained glass inlaid in the ceiling casts a spectacular light on the room and a thin divider made of spindly, vine-like woven reed material separates you and Mando. 

You’re sure he won’t take the helmet off, that’s his prerogative, though. For now you let the hot water loosen your tight muscles and bones, cramped from the lack of moving room on the ship. There’s a tense silence between you, save for the trickling water and distant sounds of the bar beyond the doors.

“Listen, uh, about the jungle,” You hear his voice, and confirm that he still has the helmet on from the tune of his vocoder, and peek over to your right to see his blurred outline through the divider. 

“It’s.. nothing. Let’s not mention it.” You don’t want to think anymore about his over-protection despite your barely being what you might consider ‘friends’. Or the fact that you liked watching him kill the person who meant to hurt you.

“I just- don’t want to be the reason you get killed. That’s all.”

The water splashes when he puts his arms back down.

“Why did you ask me to come if you didn’t want all the help I can offer, Mando?”

“You know I didn’t ask you to come to be my bodyguard. You’re better at the, y’know, the smart stuff. And I’m better at the.. Killing stuff. They weren’t going to get the chance to mug us.”  You laugh at him then, he’s right. 

Silence overtakes you both again and you can’t seem to keep the anger at his actions at surface level when the water feels this good and he doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

You brush your fingertips over your scalp and down the front of your chest, brushing over your nipples and shivering when the chilly air hardens them. Too risky for now, though you are keyed up from the last couple weeks. You sink down until just your nose and the top of your head rests above the water, and blow bubbles on the surface.

“What’s that?” His voice turns towards you.

“Blowin’ some bubbles,” you hope he hears your smile, this really is a luxurious place, even if it came after a lot of suffering. “So, where to after this?”

You start to shampoo your hair, working the suds over your head.

“Like I said, I’m taking you back to Obroa-Skai.” 

“No pit stops this time, Mando?”

You’re rinsing your hair and smoothing in the conditioner now. 

“Well- I actually did calculate in a stop on Nevarro for some bounties, if that’s okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s on our way right? I don’t mind, nothing to do back at home except examine more rocks,” you laugh and lean towards the divider to grab the bar of soap when you inadvertently get a glimpse to his side of the bath through the divider.

His bare thighs with wet hair slicked to them stick out of the water, he’s leaned back on the same wall you were. His sun kissed stomach slopes down to a delicious happy trail, and you breathe out, blinking hard to snap out of your trance. “Sorry what?” 

“I asked if you like your job.”

“Yeah, um, I mean, as much as anyone likes their job, I guess. It’s nice to enjoy what you do even just a little bit.” You lather the bar against the sponge and begin washing your feet and legs, up towards your thighs.

“Why haven’t you been bounty hunting recently?” You knew there had to be a reason he needed your help on this trip, he hadn’t divulged it yet. 

The water sloshes on his side, he’s washing himself now too.

“Remember the uh, the kid I had with me last time we stopped on your planet?” 

“Sure, the green baby? That was a bounty though, right?” 

“Yeah, he was, he sort of became more than that though. I ended up.. keeping him.” 

Your scrubbing comes to a halt and you turn to the divider, “Wait, you what?”

“I kept him. He’s my ad’ika, my son.” 

Your eyes close and you shake your head, trying to make sense of things. “So you just kept this child? And whoever put the bounty out let you?”

“Not exactly, it’s a long story. I’ll explain eventually, but I asked because you helped me a lot- finding this remnant, it would be nice to have your help more readily available in the future… and I’m looking for him, I need to know he’s safe.” 

“So someone took him?” 

“No, just.. Okay. He’s a Jedi and he’s training with his master. I gave him over willingly, but I don’t know where he is now.”

“Mando you’re fucking crazy.” You have to laugh at the situation. 

“Excuse me?” He sounds wounded almost.

“I mean, not to be mean but we don’t talk, or see each other for like what? A year and a half? And you’ve had this crazy life changing journey, a child, new armor, new everything! It’s just.. wild. How do I know it’s even you under there? And now you want me to do what? Quit my job and surf the stars with you?” 

He’s quiet. 

“You’re- you’re right. It’s foolish of me.” 

You hear him start to get out of the water, splashing as he covers up in a towel. 

Fuck. That’s not what was supposed to happen. You stand up too, quickly reach to wrap up in your towel, and run-walk as quick as possible to meet him where he’s headed for the doors back to the changing room.

“Wait, Mando, that’s, that’s not what I meant.” You stop, and place your hand on his bare shoulder to turn him to face you. The T of his visor tilts down to look at your face, and where your hand rests on his skin. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your search for your son. It’s just crazy how much has changed since we last saw each other, y’know?” 

You look up at him and notice his adam’s apple bob as he swallows and nods. 

“I didn’t say no. Or that I don’t want to, it's just.. insane, but that doesn’t always have to be a bad thing.” You smile and look down at his chest. 

The gentle trickle of the water spouts is the only sound, and the steamy heat of the room must be getting to your head when you move your hand down his clavicle to skate just your fingertips over the hair on his chest. He shivers. “I think I might want to. Just lemme think about it.” You move just your eyes up to meet the helmet and he clears his throat before he answers, nodding “Okay.”

[syndicate-of-swing]

BLOOD AND LEAD

THE DOWNFALL OF ST. LOUIS

PROLOGUE - HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

The last dying embers of the evening cast themselves upon the western wall of Carrington Slaughterhouse. The massive double doors, usually cracked open slightly to let out the smell of death, were shut today. The chains, often left unused, were doubled.

A varied crowd stood outside the door. Their ears twitched in collective anticipation. The foremost one, a gray-furred man with an air of seniority, waited, with his Lewis machine gun at the ready, for a sign from his second-in-command.

He didn't have to wait long. A flare shrieked skyward from the opposite end of the slaughterhouse, bathing the cats in blood red light.

"Karl," the man said casually, "unlock the doors, if you would."

A thunderous crack rang out through downtown St. Louis as a thirteen-millimeter bullet rent the chains apart, the pieces scattering across the dirt. The older cat leveled his gun and walked slowly forward, nudging the door open and peering in. He turned and nodded to his men, then kicked the door open with a monumental thud. As they filed in, some with rifles and some with gasoline cans, a few men popped out from behind brick piles, pistols in hand. A cacophony of clicks came from the assembled cats' weapons, but their muzzles stayed silent.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the defenders yelped.

"My name is Jack Hawkins. I am here to burn this place to the ground," the gray cat said matter-of-factly. "If you have an issue with that, I highly suggest leaving."

"Get the hell outta here!" came the response.

Hawkins tsked. "Such a shame," he sighed. "I'd hoped you'd prove useful, but alas..." He whistled, a short, sharp whistle, and every weapon in the room barked to life. When silence fell, the few who had resisted were naught but torn fabric and various parts of bones.

"That's the end of that," Hawkins spoke, satisfied. He turned to the gasoline-wielding men. "Drench this place," he ordered. "Karl, a word, please?" He retraced his steps to the entrance, followed closely by an orange-furred cat with a scar across his face.

Hawkins had barely turned back to face Karl when the latter spoke. "I don't like it, Captain." The cat reloaded his Tankgewehr while he spoke.

"We are of the same mind," Hawkins mused, his gaze flickering from Karl to the remains of their short-lived adversaries. "It should not have been that easy..." He watched his men coat the building with gasoline. "Tell de Serre and Counzell to keep watch at the rear doors. Smithfield will take the loft until the burners are finished." He drew a cigarette from his pocket.

"I'll be outside."

A/N: My first fanfic has started! I'm gonna be posting chapters occasionally here, and maybe on Wattpad if I feel like it.