#well his wives gloves

[just-a-girl-with-a-pistol]

Something simple for a ref study I mentioned not that long ago :> Fuckin around with my shading methods because why not?

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion. 

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission. 

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky. 

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely. 

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath. 

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down. 

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble. 

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle. 

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting. 

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.” 

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer? 

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence). 

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture. 

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.” 

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.” 

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502

[scribendis]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Aemond Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, dry humping, p in v sex, semi-public sex, newlyweds being horny, little bit of profanity, breeding kink if you squint really, really hard Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~3,500

Summary: Upon returning to camp from a hunt in the Kingswood, Aemond looks for a way to keep his wife warm on a bitterly cold night.

A/N: Serendipitously conceptualized ages ago but written (very late!) for the first week of the @hotd-bigbang winter word prompts challenge - Fire | Furs | Forest

Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link

The setting sun cast long shadows across the small city of tents that made up the hunting camp in the Kingswood. While the men had spent the day combing the forest for boars, stags, and other game, the women had occupied the main tent. They gorged themselves on cakes and other sweets, all the while indulging in gossip that ranged from the salacious to the downright treasonous. 

And, much to the chagrin of the new wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, they pestered her endlessly about the burgeoning love life of her and her husband. She quickly learned that, to be a woman in the king’s court meant sharing every last, excruciating detail of one’s “wifely duties” so that the others could compare them with their own. So that they could all know whose husbands fucked them the best and complain about their own lackluster experiences. 

They questioned her until she was beet-red in the face and one of the older women finally called for an end to her torment. Still, it would taste a lie for her to say that all their titillating conversation about lovemaking had not made her ache desperately for her husband. 

But by the time that night finally claimed the sprawling camp, the men had still not returned from the hunt. It signaled to the waiting wives that their husbands would come back without their prize, frustrated and exhausted - and that they would later fall into their beds reeking of wine. 

The call of horns and the distant sound of barking hounds was their cue to don their furs and exit the tent to greet the arriving men. The prince’s wife was glad for the fur-lined cloak that her husband had procured for her for just such an occasion as this. She was even more grateful for the garment as she exited the tent only to be met with the sting of the cold night air on her cheek. The women elected to wait for their husbands by the bonfire that raged in the middle of the camp, its light their only source of warmth as frost began to settle on the Kingswood. 

It was easy for her to spot her husband among the group of riders, his long silver hair unmistakable in the light of the rising moon. Whatever otherworldly quality his Valyrian features gave him seemed amplified tonight - and it made the sight of him astride a horse even more odd to her. Were her husband any other lord of the realm, his approach on horseback would not have seemed out of place. But Targaryens were no horse riders. Still, Aemond effortlessly commanded the steed beneath him, his mastery reminiscent of the way he would handle a dragon.

As the crowd of riders began to disperse, her eyes remained fixed on her husband. Amid the thundering of horses’ hooves and the raucous laughter of the noble lords, Aemond's attention, too, was solely focused on her. The intensity of his gaze only intensified her excitement, eliciting a gentle flutter in her belly.

With grace and ease, Aemond slipped off of the horse’s back. A waiting servant took his leather riding gloves from him, but Aemond could very well have let them fall to the dirt for as little attention as he paid to anyone but her. 

Aemond was always loath to indulge in any public affection, aside from the occasional hand at the small of his wife’s back or a brief touch upon her cheek. Even now that he was reunited with her after such a long day apart, his restraint came in the form of a soft kiss brushed against her temple and nothing more. But the way that his arm wrapped around her and his hand dared to wander much lower than her waist - and the way his eye held hers so intently - told her just how much he had missed her. How much he needed her.

Given Aemond’s usually stoic demeanor, she had never thought that he would be needy, but he had proven to be just that in the few weeks since they had been wed. They had already made love in the depths of the palace library more times than she could count, and discovered countless other hidden places throughout the Keep where his hands had found their way up her skirts and his lips had left marks on her neck. Some mornings, he would forego training altogether to stay in bed with her with his face between her legs or his cock buried inside her. 

And he had not heard a single complaint from her yet. 

“Ābrazȳrys, your skin is cold to the touch,” Aemond commented, a hint of concern lacing his soft voice. His lips lingered at her temple for a moment longer before he withdrew, taking one of her hands in his. “As are your fingers.” (wife)

She smiled. His own hand was as warm as ever. “I am no dragon like you, dear husband. The cold night air chills me to the bone.”

“And the furs I gave you do not suffice?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She shook her head. “Nor the bonfire.” 

Aemond hummed, his displeasure at such an assurance quite clear. He brought her fingers to his lips, blowing warm air on them before kissing them. “Come, jorrāeliarza. I have another idea for how we might offer you some warmth on such a cold night.” (beloved)

Still with an arm drawn around her, he swiftly guided her around the bonfire and, to her surprise, past the royal tent where food, wine, and music awaited them. She glanced over her shoulder questioningly at the entrance to the tent, from which poured an inviting golden light, but Aemond seemed determined on his path. 

“Aemond, are we… not going inside?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eye as they passed a flickering torch. “I thought I would spare you any further conversation with the ladies of the court.”

“And I thank you for that, dear husband,” she said with a laugh, her words falling from her lips in fleeting clouds of mist that looked like she was breathing smoke. “But I do not think–”

Aemond stopped them in their tracks and turned to her, staying any further words by sweeping in to press his lips firmly against hers. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

Once freed from his bruising kiss, she stood, dazed, for a moment before any further thoughts could come to her - something that her husband had certainly noticed given the grin that spread across his lips. She pushed him away playfully with a little scoff and an over-exaggerated look of annoyance that drew a rare chuckle from him.

“I am not one of your Targaryen dragons,” she protested, drawing her furs tighter around herself. “Those… dragon commands won’t work on me.”

Aemond leaned in to meet her at eye level, offering an arm to her that she took. “But it did work, did it not?”

She was still none the wiser about their destination as her husband quickly guided them beyond the boundaries of the camp and toward the treeline. The leaves had taken on stunning hues of red, orange, and yellow, a sight that she had marveled at from within the wheelhouse on their way into the Kingswood that morning. But in the cover of night, that beauty was lost to the pitch-black darkness. Not even the light of the moon could permeate the thick canopy of trees, leaving the forest an endless void. 

She did not fear the darkness, only the occasional sound of a twig snapping or the call of some unknown creature. As husband and wife disappeared from the sight of the camp, she found herself clutching onto him more tightly. 

“Aemond, where are we going?” she whispered as though speaking at full volume would topple one of the mighty trees. 

“Patience, jorrāeliarza.”

“What if there are wolves out here, Aemond–”

“There are no predators in the Kingswood. And, if there were,” Aemond turned to her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “do you think that I would let them harm even a single hair on your head?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “Do not worry. We can stop here.”

She glanced around, seeing the pleasant glow of the camp in the near distance and nothing but darkness everywhere else. “Here?” 

“I thought, perhaps, you would want to be a bit further from camp…” he purred. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him lean in. One of his hands reached up to pull her furs aside and his lips found her neck, warm and soft as they began to kiss her skin. She felt his hum vibrate against her pulse point, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly. “Given how loud you can be, dōna ābrazȳrys.”

A gasp left her and her head tilted away from his lips, begging silently for more. Tomorrow would call for yet another dress with a high neckline, she thought. 

“I’ve… I’ve not heard that one before…” He regularly called her all manner of names in High Valyrian. She often found him muttering to himself in his ancestral tongue. One night, he had even spoken it in his sleep. She knew a small handful of words, but only those few. “What does that mean?”

“Sweet wife,” Aemond breathed against her neck, leaving a bit of warmth behind before his lips captured hers once again. “You taste sweet tonight, too.”

“It must be the… the wine, I think,” she gasped. “Or the lemon cakes…” 

But the growing hunger inside him was not for the sweetness of cakes or Arbor gold. 

He kissed her more deeply this time, lips coaxing hers apart to taste her tongue for himself. His hands fell to her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh to draw her body against his. And, in doing so, he finally offered her the warmth he had previously promised her - one that not even the hottest bonfire could provide. 

As his fingers began to deftly ruck up her skirts, she felt her skin prickle. At the same time, an entirely different kind of heat began to spread through her until it found its familiar place between her legs. Moaning softly into their continued kiss, she dropped her hands to the closure of his trousers, where his obvious arousal strained against the dark fabric. 

“Gods, Aemond, you're so hard and I've barely touched you," she breathed against his lips. “Did you miss me?” But she knew the answer, and how pleasing it was to know just how badly she had been missed that day. 

His only reply was a grunt that rose in his throat as his hands slipped beneath her smallclothes and all but tore them from her. Despite the rough, calloused spots on his palms and fingers, his warm touch was a balm against the cold night air. In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lifted her by her arse so that she had no choice but to envelop his hips with her legs. It taunted her, the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her wet entrance. His trousers were a tedious, unwanted barrier between them. 

Their passionate embrace only became more heated as Aemond pinned her to the trunk of one of the trees and his body pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed, inadvertently causing friction between her clit and his still-clothed hardness that was too delicious to keep a moan from stuttering past her lips. 

“It would seem that you missed me as well, jorrāeliarza,” he rasped with a playful smirk. Teasingly, he rolled his hips against hers to coax another one of those sweet sounds from her. “Come on. Take what you need.”

She needed no further convincing, as great as the ache between her legs had grown. Her grip on the collar of his longcoat tightened and she took over, rocking her hips against his at a slow, but steady, pace. Each gasp and moan that left her lips billowed from them in a smoke-like mist, until she tucked her head into the crook of her husband’s neck and the sounds became muffled against his throat. He smelled of horse and sweat and, if she searched for it, the soap he had used the night before. But he tasted divine as her lips began to pepper open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Judging by the trembling breaths that she felt against her hair, this teasing was just as pleasurable for her husband as it was for her. His own grip on her arse tightened, as though he was fighting to hold on. Knowing him, he wanted only the satisfaction of spilling himself inside her. 

But his own torture would not go on for much longer, as her rutting against him was quickly bringing her to the brink of release. Her pace quickened, desperate as she was to reach it. Finally, the pleasure inside her began to unfurl and its warmth spread through her. From head to toe, it enveloped her completely as though she had been submerged into a hot bath.   

It was exactly as Aemond had promised. In the grips of her climax, the frigid air mattered little, if at all.

Gasping for breath as she came down again, she pressed her lips to his and he received her kiss greedily. No doubt he was desperate for his own release after watching her come apart - and how could she refuse him?

“You know,” she began as her hands fell to his trousers once again. Only, this time, her fingers made quick work of the closures. “Earlier, all the women wanted to know how good you are in bed.”

Their gazes locked and, even in the darkness of the forest, she could see the almost animalistic desire in his one good eye. But as desperate as he was to be inside her, he seemed almost equally as intrigued by her words. She freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and took it into her hand. Her simple act of stroking him once was enough to draw a low groan out of him.

“Fucking gossips,” Aemond replied huskily. His lips drew close to hers but did not quite meet them. “Do I wish to know what you told them?”

She grinned. Her fingers guided his cock to her slick entrance but stopped there momentarily. “I told them–” Her words were cut off by a moan as he buried himself inside her quickly and without warning. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, fuck?” Aemond repeated teasingly, raising a brow. “Am I so bad at it, jorrāeliarza?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face belied any attempts at fooling her into thinking that he believed that to be her true confession earlier that day. 

Too impatient, he began to move his hips against hers - and she met each of his slow, steady thrusts with movements of her own. Misty air surrounded them amid their shared panting, both of them relishing in the sensation of becoming one again after such a long day apart.

She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, where strands of her hair began to tangle in its rough bark. But she hardly noticed or cared at all, especially as her husband’s lips reclaimed her neck and his hot breaths swept along the contours of her jaw. 

“Ābrazȳrys.”

She became so lost in the carnal pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of her that Aemond’s voice barely reached her. It did not help at all that his pace began to quicken as the heat between them grew to a simmer. The cry of pleasure that left her mingled with the sounds of the forest, joining the nighttime symphony of hooting owls and the rustling of the crisp underbrush.

“What did you tell them?” Aemond pressed. His own composure was starting to fail him and his words came out strained. 

A breathy laugh left her. He always purported to care little about what the members of his father’s court thought of him. But, evidently, that sentiment did not extend to his wife and her opinions. 

She placed a hand on his cheek to pull his lips to hers, kissing him deeply as pleasure began to coil inside her anew. “I told them,” she panted, her eyes opening to meet his, “that my husband is not the one riding the largest dragon in the world.”

Whatever Aemond had expected her to say, it clearly was not that. For a moment, his hips stilled and he looked as stunned as the ladies had been when she had uttered those same words that morning. One of them had even spilled a full cup of wine down her pale blue dress as she stared at her like some startled animal. 

“My, my…” he purred.

But his look of shock fell away just as quickly. Replacing it was a ferocity that she had never seen from him before. A hunger that her words had awakened inside him which only she could satiate. There were no more soft words of love, or the usual names he called her while making love to her. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips and he resumed his movements against her. 

Aemond quickly built up a brutal pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Any thoughts or complaints about how bitterly cold it was outside had been long forgotten, drunk as she was on the intensity of the pleasure he was fucking into her her. Even her moans began to leave her in choked gasps and broken mewls that, if anyone in the hunting camp heard her, would have sounded no different than the calls of some creature of the forest.

She could feel it, the straining of her muscles and the tightening of her insides. The tremble that overtook her as she hurtled toward the edge along with him. She felt like a handkerchief being squeezed of water, and he would not stop his tightening of her until he had wrung her of every last drop.  

Her eyes fluttering, she leaned in to capture Aemond’s lips in a kiss that he did not reciprocate in his own carnal pursuit of release. “Aemond…” “Mm-mm,” he chided, his tone gruffer and far lower than she had ever heard it. “I want to see you.” 

One of his hands released its grip on her arse and moved to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly and ensure she could not look away. As he watched her, he groaned deeply in his own fight to hold on until he could get precisely what he wanted. 

And it only took three simple words from him to finish her at last.

“Cum for me.” 

Like a dam breaking, all the building pleasure that had been twisting inside her released. Coaxed by the continued pounding of his hips against hers, it spread into every extremity as her body shuddered and her cries of ecstasy filled the dense, frosty air. The fluttering of her walls around him soon spelled the end for him, too. With a few more ragged thrusts, he found his release inside her.

His eye squeezed shut. His lips, kiss-swollen, parted. And then, a certain look of peace overtook him.  

Although still lost in her own haze of pleasure, she watched him closely - and she decided that he had never looked more beautiful. 

They remained in their loving embrace, neither one wanting to pull away from the other just yet. Her, with her legs still encircling his hips, and him, with one hand holding her up and the other at her neck. Aemond pressed his forehead to hers and his thumb began to caress her cheek tenderly.

She hadn’t spoken of these moments to the women of the court that day. About how her husband could fuck her within an inch of her life and, immediately thereafter, treat her with such affection and softness. With such devotion in each caress of his fingers and every soft word he uttered.

Their breathing soon began to slow once again and the world around them finally came back into view. Smiling, she brushed the tip of her nose against his before kissing him so deeply that he hummed in surprise. But he reciprocated earnestly, slowly setting her back down on the ground but never quite letting her go.

“We should return to the camp,” Aemond said as he re-adjusted her furs on her shoulders. “I would not have you catch your death out here in the cold, jorrāeliarza.”

A sweet grin spread across her lips, but something wicked glistened in her eyes. “Oh, but my husband has already given me all the warmth I require.”

[thedevilsoftruth]

Soo I have a request. Hehe. Specifically about Kyojuro 😍

Idea:

Tengen and Rengoku are sparring and rengoku is a little tense because of how his mission went last night. Tengen notices his frustration and stops the sparring session to see what his deal is. When Rengoku tells him he’s frustrated Tengen is understanding and he decides that theyre done sparring for the day. Tengen says hes on his way home to his wives but Rengoku says hes going to stay out for a little longer so he doesn't go home to y/n, angry. That's when Tengen gives him the idea to "take it out" on you.

Obviously Kyo thinks he meant hitting you to which Uzui quickly clears up when he rephrases and explains to release his frustrations sexually. Careful not to spare any details when telling Kyojuro of all the positions to put you in.

(Rengoku is pretty vanilla with sex so he doesnt do much other than missionary or eating you out)

So imagine your surprise, when he DOES get home, and after asking “do you trust me” he goes full throttle on you, his oblivious wife. I'm talkin backshots, full nelson, a mean locked in mating press, choking, spitting in her mouth, ass slapping and despite his rough manhandling his words are still so sweet. Like calling her his "perfect little flame" for taking him so well. 😍😍😍

and when they're done? shes so squirted and fucked out that she finally asks him why he was so angry and after all of that, he doesn't even remember. 🤣🤣🤣

HOLY FUXKITY FUCK NUGGETS WITH A SIDE OF BOOB SWEAT HOLY SWEET MOTHER OF KYOJURO YES QUEEN I AM ON THAT SHIT 🫡

Now I have not written any like actual HARD sex scenes since Marc Spector in like. March. But, I will try my best. I am sorry if it is not what you expected, some things you asked for I sadly did not incorporate into the fic because I wasn't comfortable with it. However, this is by far one of my LONGEST fics like. Ever. So please enjoy! ♥️

ᥫ᭡•-Wildfire-•ᥫ᭡

Rengoku Kyojuro x afab reader

Summary: After having a really bad mission that ruined Kyojuros mood completely, Kyojuro spars Tengen but it becomes very apparent to Tengen that Kyojuro is upset. Tengen tries to comfort Kyojuro, but the conversation steers off into a long discussion of Tengen explaining how Kyojuro can take his anger out on his wife sexually. So, Kyojuro goes home to you ( his wife ) and does exactly as his old friend suggested.

W/c - 7k

Warning: Lots of sexual humor, mentions of violence, Tengen and Kyojuros amazing friendship, mentions of Tengen being a lifestyle dom bc fuck you that's why, strong language, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, dom! Kyojuro, reader is kinda shy and VERY submissive, tabletop sex, crying during sex, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, and Kyojuros filthy mouth. Not beta read!!!

[ Minors dni! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet! ]

Kyojuro Rengoku was a very patient man. A patient man that was never without a smile and was almost never angry. He was good with masking his anger and swallowing his issues. What's the point of holding onto negative emotions? If something bad happens to you, take it and move on with your life.

But he just could not seem to shake this cloud of pure frustration and sense of failure that was looming above his head. Why didn't he perform his best during his last mission? Why didn't he use the new techniques he needed to practice in his last fight? Why wasn't he training hard enough? Why wasn't he good enough?

His body was seething with anger. He was sweating badly from the stress he was feeling and his limbs felt as though they were on fire.

It was almost like an out of body experience. Like he wasn't even himself in that moment when he let out a blood curdling yell as he charged at his partner with his most powerful technique. His hands were gripping his blade so tightly that he was sure they would never be able to let out of it.

That was until the blade was flung across the field by a gloved hand.

" What's up with you, man? You trying to kill me? " Tengens familiar voice filled his ears, the tall man standing in front of him with an expression he had never given him.

Worry.

Kyojuro was suddenly pulled back into reality. His chest felt tight. The clothes on his body were starting to feel loose due to his fatigue. He looked around and took in his surroundings. The beautiful green trees rustling in the wind around him. The soft brown dirt below his feet. The tall man in front of him who he considered to be his best friend. But still, even through the whirlwind of intense emotions in his head, he was still able to put on his signature smile.

" I am sorry, lord Tengen. I suppose I got a bit carried away, didnt I? " Kyojuro said with a gentle laugh that filled Tengens ears. Tengen found himself staring at his best friend blankly.

" Oh you mean when you tired to cut my head off? " Tengen said bluntly.

What???

Kyojuros eyes went wide and he suddenly felt very embarrassed. He had never had a moment like that in sparring ever. He was usually on guard. He usually didn't let bad missions like that get to him, but today he was just constantly on edge, and that sparring round proved it.

" No more swords for today. " Tengen said, dropping his weapons and sitting on a soft patch of grass. " Come sit. Talk to me. " Was all he needed to say for Kyojuro to immediately go on a tangent.

Kyojuro was very open to people about how he felt about things. If he had an opinion, he would make the opinion known no matter what. He was a very emotional man who had a lot of empathy in his heart, so he tended to take things a bit harder than most people would. Kyojuro was a talker, and so was Tengen, but Tengen was able to lend a listening ear when it was needed.

" I suppose i was a bit overwhelmed. " Kyojuro started, picking at blades of grass beneath him. " My last mission didn't go too well. There were some techniques I wanted to try in battle that are new to me, but was too chicken to try them. " He explained to the man sitting next to him.

Tengen stared at him for a very long time. He blinked a few time, and then his face twisted into a look of pure and utter confusion.

" You're mad you didn't use those techniques?!! Did you forget that you are a literal demon slayer?? My man, you still have like. Five million other future missions where you can use those techniques in. " Tengen told his best friend in a loud voice, his hands making weird gestures as he spoke. Kyojuro chuckled.

" I know. I know. I guess I'm just mad that I didn't practice them enough. " He sighed. Tengen rolled his eyes and groaned.

" Come on, dude. Loosen up a little, won't ya? You still have all the time in the world to practice them. Plus, tomorrow Is a new day. You will have a better mission tomorrow. " Tengen provided the most comfort to Kyojuro that he could. He had his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently and smiling at him. And Kyojuro had to admit that he was feeling a bit better, but he was still tense. He smiled back at him, but Tengen could tell by the way his shoulders were tense that he was still mad.

" You sure you're gonna be alright? " Tengen asked him as he stood up and grabbed his water bottle. " I need to head back home to my wife's. I've spent a long time away from them already, and I'm sure they're worried sick for me. " Tengen chuckled, picking up his swords, the metal of the chain making a nice clanking sound against the steel of the swords. Kyojuro looked around thoughtfully, his hands gripping his pants in frustration.

" I think I'm going to stay here and continue to train. " He spoke with a heavy sigh, standing up and picking up his sword. Tengen was in the middle of seething his swords when he suddenly stopped at his words.

" Why? " He asked simply.

" Because I don't want to return to my wife angry. The last thing that I need is to make her worried because I am upset. " Kyojuro spoke with a strange expression on his face. Tengen couldn't read him. It was an odd night for him. Kyojuro had been acting not quite like himself the entire night, and it all started when after they shook hands before sparring. But still, Kyojuro was his friend, and he would do anything he could to give him comfort.

" Listen, you're not perfect, dude. Your woman has to see both sides of you to really understand who you are. " Tengen spoke, moving closer to Kyojuro. " I know you're a perfectionist and want your woman to think nothing but good of you, but trust me bro, flaws are a great thing. Especially in relationships because that is what helps them grow. "

He finished off with one more quote, " If she can't handle you at your worst, than she doesn't deserve you at your best. " A gentle pat was laid onto Kyojuros shoulders, and he felt like he was almost starting to understand his old friend. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to process it yet.

Tengen was getting ready to turn his heel and part ways with his friend before he remembered something. His face twisted with a devious grin that just told Kyojuro he was up to no good. Tengen clicked his tongue and pointed his index finger at him, lightly wiggling it in the process.

" You know, if you're still a little bit tense when you get home... Hehe... " He leaned in, his voice a whisper as he draped his arm over Kyojuros shoulder. Kyojuro didn't like the look on his face. He was definitely about to say something dirty.

" You know how I'm a lifestyle dom.. yada yada, whatever, nobody fucking cares, they've all heard it before--but there's this thing I do with my ladies, alright? How do I put this.. " He took a deep breath, his marron eyes scanning the floor as he searched for the right words. " Whenever Im having a hard day, I like to ' take it out ' on my beautiful wife's. " Tengen said casually, almost as if it was any normal conversation.

What??!!

Whatever Kyojuro was expecting to here from him, it was not that. He knew his best friend was into really hard sex, but he didn't think it would involve that sort of stuff! He stared at him with wide eyes, not blinking for several seconds.

" You hit your wife's?! " Kyojuro blurted out very loudly. Now it was Tengens turn for his eyes to go wide in shock.

" What the fu--no!! What kind of fuckin animal do you take me for?! No I don't hit my wife's!! Why the hell would you think that?! " Tengen demanded, shaking Kyojuros shoulders violently as he shouted at him.

" You said ' take it out!! ' What does that mean, lord Tengen! " Kyojuro asked loudly with curious eyes and an uncanny smile. Tengen took his hands off of Kyojuro and sighed, bamboozled by his friends lack of sexual knowledge.

" Well you have a wife. You guys have sex, right? " Tengen asked as if the question wasn't completely obvious.

" Yes, but it's not as uhm... Flamboyant as the kind you have. " Kyojuro told him, his wide smile never flattening. Excitement arose within Tengens body, and he clapped his hands together and grinned.

" My man!!! " He exclaimed. " Okay here are some pro tips coming from big daddy Tengen okay-- "

" I am not calling you big daddy Tengen. " Kyojuro blurted. Tengen blinked a few times.

" Okay...I didn't ask you to--what? And I'd hope not, dude, you're married-"

" Is that what you have your wife's call you, lord Tengen? It is Flamboyant indeed!! " Kyojuro said in an uncomfortably loud and enthusiastic voice. Tengen could not believe what he was hearing, and he pushed his best friend to the side in an act of pure disgust.

" What??! No--okay, we're getting off topic. Point is-- "

" So the key to having better sex with my wife is to have her call me big daddy Rengoku? "

The silence was so loud.

Tengen lowerd down into a squatting position and put his elbows on his knees and heald his face in his palms.

" Somebody shoot me. " He muttered, his voice dripping with pure misery. " There is no way I just heard you say that. "

Kyojuro was having a very good hearty laugh. Tengen was drowning in utter despair. Kyojuro patted his friends back very hard and laughed even more.

" I am only joking around with you, my friend! Head up. I will allow you to speak now. " He told him, patting his back once more in reassurance. Tengen slowly rose back up and sighed dramatically. Kyojuro stood in silence, waiting for his friend to speak.

" I don't know how I will recover from that, but I suppose I can offer you some words of free advice. Your starting point is telling her what you will do to her, ask her for her permission and then go all out. " Tengen started. " Women like it when you're gentle and loving with them, yes, but they also can find it enjoyable when her man is a bit more rough and crazy in bed. It's way flashier than normal, vanilla sex. "

Kyojuro looked at him weird.

" ...In my opinion. " Tengen added, awkwardly averting his gaze.

" But you, my man, have been having a rough day. So be a bit more rough with her in bed tonight. Spank her, bend her over something, pull her hair, bite her. Let her feel what you are feeling inside, and let me tell you, it will be the best sex of your life. " Tengen felt kind of excited to be sharing this with his friend. Sex was his passion, and being able to share it and his ideas with people made him the happiest man on earth.

Kyojuro felt his mouth going dry at the thought of it. All of the ideas flooded his mind, and he felt his heart racing uncontrollably.

" You said uh... Bending her over? I've never done that before. " Kyojuro repeated, a lump forming in his throat as he spoke. Tengen took a sip of his water and raised his brows.

" Is that what got your attention ? " He grinned. " Chicks dig that shit, man. There's so much more than the classic missionary. Find a countertop, table, foot of the bed--anything and then bend her over it and go at it. Would you like to hear of more positions you can use? "

" Yes. " Kyojuro responded immediately, wanting to know everything he can do to relieve the stress he was still feeling.

" Enthusiasm. That's what I love to hear!! " Tengen laughed before he continued. " Now, of course, you can also do it standing with her legs wrapped around your waist if you're confident. You can also have her bent over with her hands to the ground for a bit of support and deep penetration. There's the flatiron position, the sandwich position, yada yada. "

Kyojuro listened deeply, taking in each word as a mental note as the sound hashira spoke to him. He sure was in expert in this sort of stuff, he was kind of like an encyclopedia for all things related to sex.

" Those certainly are some interesting choices, lord Tengen. Now what is the flatiron? " Kyojuro asked curiously. Tengen smiled.

" Another position where you are behind her. You get on your knees behind her and she leans her face into the mattress and warps her arms around the backs of her knees. It's simple. " Tengen explained. Kyojuro nodded, gathering all the information he was given into his mind and coming up with a plan for exactly what he wanted to do.

" Of course, if you still want to have a missionary but make it more interesting, you can bend her knees back to her chest or hook her legs over your shoulders. Just a few options. " Tengen continued. He stood back up from his squatting position and dusted his pants. He felt around his pockets, and checked himself to make sure he left nothing behind before patting his thighs and giving Kyojuro a large smile.

" I'll be on my way now, my friend. I wish the best for you. " Tengen told Kyojuro, bringing his hand out in a fist for a fist bump. Kyojuro did the same and their knuckles joined together, Tengen making a fake explosion sound as he dramatically uncurled his fingers from a fist. Kyojuro laughed like he always did when they fist bumped after long meetings together like this.

" Till the next time we meet, lad. " Kyojuro nodded at his friend as he began to walk away. Tengen turned to face him and saluted him.

" Have fun! " Tengen yelled before he ran off, quickly disappearing into the distance.

------

The sun was starting to set. The walk back home was excruciatingly long, and the longer Kyojuro spent away from you, the more he began to get irritated. Why couldn't he just magically be with you in an instant? Why did he have to walk through town where it was loud and bright just to get you you? Why don't people ever pay attention to where they are walking? Why did everything have to be so damn irritating?

It was already pitch black outside when he got home. When he entered the house, he was about to shout your name like he usually did when he got home and announce his arrival, but he found you coming out of your bedroom as he closed the front sliding doors.

" You're home. " You remarked, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He noticed you were in the red silky robe that you usually wore when you went to bed. He pulled away from the kiss to comment on it.

" Were you just in bed, my love? " He asked, his hands gliding up your sides and feeling the soft familiar fabric under his fingertips.

" Yeah I just woke up. I figured you would be back later so I wanted to cook you something. Are you hungry, should I still make you something-- " He cut your babbling off with a rough kiss, his hands moving to your jaw as he tilted his head and took your breath away with his kisses. You let out a surprised gasp at the contact, but you were not complaining.

" Why would I need you to make me something with I have my meal In front of me? " Your husband grinned wickedly, picking you up by your thighs and throwing his mouth back into yours, giving you absolutely zero time to react. You were so taken aback by the action, that you almost fell out of his arms from not wrapping your legs around his waist quick enough.

He didn't usually come home this way or say those kinds of things to you, so you were a bit shocked as you kissed him back. Of course he was a bit more forceful with it when he did it than you were, but that was because you were so shocked that it was like you had forgotten how to kiss him completely.

" Breathe. " Kyojuro said, setting you down on top of the kotatsu table in your dining room. You weren't used to this happening at all. You felt dizzy, especially having all of this happen just couple minutes after waking up.

" You okay? " He asked, his gentle calloused fingers reaching out to brush a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He gave you a smile, his golden eyes soft as he stared at you lovingly. You looked up at him with a curious expression, still trying to catch your breath from the previous intense kisses he had given you.

" Are you okay? What's all this about? " You asked him with a nervous chuckle and smile. He felt a pang of guilt stinging him by seeing how shocked and anxious you were. The last thing he wanted was for you to fear him. He hushed you with another kiss, his hands gripping your hips harshly. He had this look in his eyes that you had never seen him with. It felt dangerous.

When he pulled away, his hand turned your body around so that you were laying on your stomach on top of the table. You yelped in surprise, feeling your husband's strong hands on your ankles and pulling your legs off the kotatsu table, your knees pressing against the floor beneath you. Kyojuro was not a weak man. None of the hashira were. They could all take you out with one single smack to the face, so the amount of strength that Kyojuro put into moving you made you feel like you would definitely have bruises where he grabbed you.

" Kyojuro! What has gotten into you? " You demanded, looking at him from behind your shoulder. His hands suddenly released most of the pressure he was putting on you, almost as if he sensed your discomfort. Sensually and slowly, Kyojuros hands ran a long your sides and stomach, feeling anything he could touch. He moved your hair around your neck, exposing some more of your skin to his hungry gaze, allowing his lips to latch on your soft skin.

You were starting to ease into his arms, but you were confused by the position. His lips pecked the sweet spot of your neck slowly, his left lands slipping down to your thigh and his right hand coming up to cup your breast through your robe, causing a little moan to escape your lips. He gently parted your legs and eased your body back down onto the table. You looked at him with raised brows as one of his hands went to touch the knot of your robe.

" I had a tough day at work, so I'm a bit irritated right now. I also know you're nervous, but do you trust me? " His voice was low and quiet against your ear. His hands stilled in place, not moving until otherwise told. " I will not proceed without your consent. "

Your cheeks were a light shade of pink. You were curious to see what he was planning exactly.

" I trust you. "You responded. Kyojuro had a tinge of a smile on his face, and he nodded his head and carefully undid the belt of your robe. Strong hands ran down your arms, stripping them bare of the clothes that acted as a barrier between you both. The actions were so gentle despite the things that he had planned for you that you had thought this was just going to be another regular sex session.

But it was something far more than that. The only reason Kyojuro was even being gentle with you in the moment was because he wanted to at least show you some sweetness before he would absolutely destroy you.

He unbuckled his belt with one hand, the other one keeping him busy as he began to rub your already dripping cunt through your panties. He slipped two fingers beneath the red lace of your panties, his other hand slipping his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring loose.

Kyojuros fingers felt through the silky, warmth of your wet folds. His other hand was pumping his pre-cum lubricated cock as he did this to you, looking at your form as your hips ever so slightly lifted off the table. Your lips parted, and a soft moan escaped your mouth as his fingers gently rubbed against your clit. His fingers rolled again the tiny bud in time with his other hand pumping his cock. But soon, he got tired of it, and he withdrew his fingers from you and hooked them onto your underwear and pulled them down to where they fell at your knees.

Your flesh was now completely exposed to him, your pussy already sensitive and oh so wet and welcoming for his hungry cock. His gently hands undid the clasps of your bra.

" Lift your arms. " He said. You did as told with no opposition. He rolled the straps of the bra down your arms and threw the garment off somewhere into the kitchen. You felt a familiar sense of adrenaline rushing through you, and you were excited but nervous.

" Am I not doing this on my back? " You asked him sweetly, looking over your shoulder where your gazes met. Your eyes were filled with innocence, and the thought of his sweet wife being so oblivious to the things he was going to do to her turned him on harder than anything else.

" Not tonight. Just relax. " He told you, rubbing his arms up and down your back. You took a deep breath and allowed him to do whatever he needed to because you trusted him. Kyojuro wrapped his hand around the shaft of his dick, bringing his cockhead up against your entrance before slowly inching his way inside you. The sensation stung a little as he worked his way past the tip, stretching you out almost painfully. Once he was in enough, he stopped for a moment to allow you to adjust to his size.

" Feel good? " He asked for reassurance. You looked at him and nodded. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. He set a slow and steady pace at first, grunting while he pushed his cock in and out of you. You had never had sex with him before in this position. It was all new to you but so incredibly exciting. And Kyojuro was enjoying it too, in fact, he may even have been enjoying it too much considering how he was mapping out in his mind the amounts of positions he was going to put you in.

" You know, " he trailed off, running a long finger up your spine and making your skin rise with goosebumps. " I can go on for hours if you'll let me. The only question is, can you keep up? " Even with him being behind you, you could just hear the smirk in his dark tone. You gulped hard at his words, your pussy fluttering against his cock as he slowly began to pick up the pace.

His hips rolled against yours, his cock dragging across your velvety walls and making your hips lift off the table once more. Your face scrunched up in pleasure, and your fingernails scratched the maple tabletop of the kotatsu table. You tried to lift yourself up by bracing your arms on the table, but Kyojuro was quick to splay his hand on your back and force you back down. You grunted, biting your lip in frustration as you fell onto the table. He grabbed your hips with both hands, his hips snapping against yours harshly and leaving you breathless.

" Not fair. " You whimpered, your eyebrows quirking up as you tried to find a comfortable way to lay your head.

" What's not fair? " He teased, knowing full well what you were referring to but wanting to hear you say it.

" You're... You pulled me back down. A-and going fast. " You answered, your legs shaking beneath him.

" I'm sorry, is this not your speed? Would you prefer me to be gentler? "

Kyojuros pace slowed and you whined at the lack of friction. Although, he did not intend for his words to come off as teasing, thats what you took it as and you were becoming very sexually frustrated.

" Why'd you.. ahh.. " you couldn't even finish your sentence from the amount of embarrassment you were in. Your face was bright red, your brows furrowed and your arms already feeling numb.

" See? Now you're a whimpering mess. " Each word was punctuated by a very harsh thrust that sent you screaming each time. You gripped the table beneath you, your face lifting off the table for a short while so you could moan and breathe.

" Is this what you want, sunshine? Huh? " He grunted in your ear, thrusting into you at a pace he rarely ever used. You were so shocked, so consumed by the pleasure that you couldn't even respond to him. Kyojuro twirled a thick bunch of your hair around his fist tightly and harshly pulled your head back so his mouth could meet your ear. You gasped at the pain, your shock only increasing.

" Where are those words, huh, sunflower? Just a moment ago you were all sassy. Is it that good? " He said in a sweet, almost even condescending voice. The emotions you were feeling were too much to handle. Who was this man? Had someone swapped out your loving husband for a more mean version of him?

Kyojuros hand raised and struck against your ass, the sound of the intense impact echoing off the walls. You bit your finger, a yelp escaping your lips from the smack. He had never once did that to you in your nearly 4 years of being his wife.

" Use your words, little flame. " He spoke, his tone genuine this time. Your lips parted, a string of saliva disconnecting your mouth from your finger as you pulled away from your hand. All you were able to get out was a shy whimper.

Kyojuro could sense your shyness and let out a dark chuckle that gave your pussy butterflies.

" Does my little flame like it rough now? " He purred straight into your ear, his lips pecking your neck. Your eyes became wide when one of his hands reached around you to mess with your clit. You felt like you were on fire, his cock ravaging you mercilessly and using your body. Your mouth was open in an ' o ' shape, endless moans and gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure engulfed your every essence like wildfire.

He was panting into your ear, grabbing your breast harshly as his cock slammed into you with brutal force. You bit your lip and your breath came out in short shudders. His fingers were circling around your clit sweetly, the duo sensation of his cock penetrating you and his fingers stimulating your clit making you shake. There was no doubt that you were about to cum.

And then Kyojuro got a sickeningly twisted idea.

He could sense your impending orgasm. Your walls were squeezing him as if he were a damn pencil, and you were becoming so incredibly wet. But he had other plans for you that night, plans that could prove just how mean he can be during sex. Of course, he always enjoyed giving you exactly what you wanted. He was a people pleaser, and he wanted you to be happy and satisfied even In the bedroom. But not tonight. Tonight, Kyojuro was a burning fire of rage, and he was going to show you just how angry he was.

He could tell how much you were enjoying it. How cock hungry you were becoming. So, before you could get that sweet release of an orgasm, he pulled out of you and withdrew his fingers from your clit, leaving you to feel empty. You looked at him with heavy lidded eyes, panting and confused.

" Why'd you pull out? I was almost there. " You whined, your cunt aching for his dick to stuff you and make you feel good again. Kyojuro gave you a sick grin that made your knees weak.

" Oh, don't worry about that, sunshine. You will get to come. Just not now. " He chirped, though there was an underlying of dominance and promise in his voice. And suddenly, like he had been doing all that night since he came back, he ambushed you by standing up and bringing you to your feet with him. He picked you up by your thighs, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to take you into your bedroom.

" Lets get you in here where it's more comfortable. " He spoke, kissing your neck and laying you down on your shared bed gently. He stood between your legs and unbottoned the top of his uniform in front of you, his chiseled, well defined abs. You stared at him in awe, your pussy aching for him even more by the mere sight of him. His arms flexed as he pulled the shirt up and above his head. He kicked his pants and boxers off his ankles, his dick finally in full view for you. You stared with hungry eyes, desperately trying your hardest not to start touching yourself.

Your husband sat on the bed next to you and backed against the headboard. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you deeply for a moment, his fingertips lightly playing with your clit for a couple of seconds before he pulled away from your lips. He looked you up and down, taking in your body.

" Turn around. " He instructed, giving your hips a nice smack. You shakingly did as told, your body incredibly weak even though it had only been one round. Your knees were bent on either side of his thighs as you lowered yourself into his lap. You had your back to his chest, and he carefully guided your body back down onto his still-hard cock. You whimpered softly as he entered you once more, filling your needy cunt that was so incredibly desperate for you.

Kyojuros warm hand went to your back once more and forced your body into the mattress. You grunted as he slowly began thrusting upward and into you. The penetration was so incredibly deep, his cock hauling in and out of your cunt leisurely. He kept his hand on your back, careful not to let you move around that much as that was exactly where he wanted you. Your face was smushed against the red silky sheets on the fluffy mattress, your fingers digging into the sheets.

Kyojuro groaned softly, the warmth your soft pussy provided his cock making him nothing else but buck wild. He couldn't help himself. He wasn't even going to stop himself from pulling his cock all the way out if you before slamming it back into you and making you scream aloud, gripping the sheets for dear life.

" Feel good, sunshine? You like that? " You heard your husband purr from behind you. Your eyes were closed shut so tightly that you were sure they would never open again. Your mouth was hanging open widely and you were drooling all over the sheets, nothing but satisfied moans leaving your lips. He chuckled at your state and smacked your ass again, the harsh impact making you wake up more and yelp. He switched the positions a bit, shifting to his knees and bending over your back.

" I asked you a question. " He growled, his voice low and almost threatening. One arm wrapped around your stomach, but the other snaked around your throat and heald you in a chokehold. Your mind began to scramble frantically. Kyojuro was never his hard with you in bed. Like seriously, you could just feel his anger by the way he even spoke to you.

" Yes-yes. " You choked, tears pricking your eyes as he somehow found a way to fuck you harder. His arm loosened around your neck to allow you to breathe but still had enough force on you to restrict your movements." Feels so good. " You moaned, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you began to cry silently.

" Good girl. " He praised, his voice rumbling against your ear. He kissed the top of your head and let go of your stomach, rubbing your clit once more. The pleasure made you gasp and become limp in his arms.

" So, so, good for me. " Kyojuro cooed, finally letting go of your neck so he could attack it with greedy kisses. You whimpered as his fingers dragged up and down your throbbing clit, your pussy squeezing him for dear life as your orgasm was starting to build up again.

Kyojuro couldn't help but look down between your two joined bodies. The way how your perfect cunt took his dick so good and warmly was egging him on, making him want to fuck you even harder if that was even possible. It was like had had become a different person that night. The way how he took hold of a chunk of your hair from the scalp and pushed your face back down into the mattress just went to show how hard he could go.

" Come on, little flame. Show me how good it feels, yeah? Come all over me, baby. Make a mess. " He encouraged with a rather light ass smack. Your lips parted and your face contorted in pure focus as you let him take you just how he wanted. He could feel how close you were again. And this time, he was feeling generous.

" Kyo...kyojuro--ooo. " You tried to say his name in between broken moans. A sadistic smile spread across your husband's lips as he looked down at you. He reached his arm around you and played with your bottom lip. It was puffy and red, swollen from all the kissing from earlier. His thumb dragged over it before he brought his two middle fingers into your mouth, encouraging you to suck on them.

" You sound so pretty. So broken. " He purred, pulling his cock out completely before slamming if back in with such a force that sent your body shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes were filled deep into the back of your head and suddenly, you couldn't take it anymore. You bit down in your husband's fingers as you came hard onto his cock, squirting all over his lap, the hot liquid dripping down his cock and into the sheets beneath you.

" Look at that. " He laughed darkly, pulling his cock out of you so he could run his fingers over your slippery folds. You couldn't hold the position anymore, so you crawled out of his lap and collapsed onto the bed on your back. Kyojuro gave you a disappointed look.

" Where do you think you're going? "

Fuck.

You shut your thighs and backed up as far as you could away from him until you almost reached the edge of the bed. Your husband pouted at you, looking you up and down and clicking his tongue.

" When did I say I was done with you? We barley even made it to dessert. " He joked in a sickeningly sadistic way as he grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you back underneath him. You gulped hard, a cold tear running down your flushed cheeks. He lovingly took your face in his hands and wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

Kyojuro leaned in to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours in harsh open-mouthed kisses as he picked your legs up by the backs of your knees.

"Are you okay? Do we need to stop? " He asked you, his expression completely and utterly serious. You were having a hard time catching your breath. You had felt light headed and your body was shaking. But even through the pain, you knew you could find pleasure. It also gave you some satisfaction knowing that your husband was feeling better doing this to you, so you nodded your head and smiled at him.

" I'm fine. Do what you need to do. " You said , opening your legs a bit further. Kyojuros lips curled into a wicked smile, and he positioned himself back between your legs, grabbing your knees and pinning them to your chest.

You felt the familiar feeling of his cock slowly being pushed into you once more. The feeling sent you whimpering and squirming around him. Overstimulation wasn't something you were used to. Nothing he was doing to you was anything like you were used to.

And the same thing could be said for Kyojuro. He wasn't used to going that hard, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't having the time of his life. His mind with flooded with lust as he immediately went to fucking you hard like before, not giving you anytime to relax. He just couldn't help himself. His mind was reeling, his body glistening with sweat as he pounded into you as if his entire life depended on it.

" Fuck, " he groaned, his head falling back in pleasure as he fucked you exactly how he needed to. The air around you was thick and warm, the room filled with the heavy pants and moans coming from the both of you. Your pussy was so incredibly sensitive after everything, and he just kept going. Your toes curled in the air, your hips lifting off the bed slightly as he increased his pace.

You let out soft squeaks as Kyojuro lifted your legs up and over his broad shoulders, allowing him to penetrate you deeper. He was putting you in positions he'd never put you in before. It was heaven on earth. The loud squelching noises coming from your incredibly wet cunt filled Kyojuros ears like sweet music. Not only that but the smell of your sex was intoxicating.

" Fuck, little flame.. " He moaned, kissing the parts of your legs that he could reach comfortably as he thrust into you at a steady, hard pace. " My perfect little flame. Taking me so well. " He praised, his sweet words sending butterflies to your pussy. Your face became hot, the sudden sweetness of your husbands words making thing seem oddly intimate after he practically fucked your brains out.

And, he just kept going. Fucking you slowly and hard, his strong hands gripping your thighs and his cock kissing every inch of your pussy. His sweet voice was telling you sweet nothings as he pushed his cock in and out of you with deep thrusts. He shifted his hips a bit, allowing him deeper access to your cunt until it hit that special part of you. You moaned loudly and threw your head back in ecstasy.

He lowered a hand between your thighs, and slowly began rubbing your clit while his hips began to pick up the pace. You let out a gasp and a deep moan, your hips jerking against his and your thighs shaking on his shoulders.

" Aww. Sensitive, are we? " Rengoku teased, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest. You nodded weakly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his fingers stroked your clit gently. His sweet words and actions were causing you to suddenly feel embarrassed. Especially because the position was so intimate and face-to-face.

Your face became red and you found yourself turning your head to face the wall instead of your ravenous husband. You brought your fingers up to your lips, suddenly aware of how loud you were being. Of course, it didn't take Kyojuro long at all to catch onto what you were doing.

" Dont be shy, sunflower. " He told you, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the bed. You slowly looked back at him, too fucked out of your mind to respond in any way. Kyojuro leaned forward, your knees briefly pressing against your chest as he kissed you sweetly. " You know how important being able to hear your moans is to me. "

You let your mouth fall open a bit, your eyebrows twitching up and your eyes squinting as his cock seemed to be slamming into you harder. The hand around your wrists was holding you down so hard that it almost hurt.

" So scream for me baby. " Kyojuro purred, taking your breath away and making you gasp as he violently thrashed into you. You screamed at the contact, your hands vigorously scrambling for the red sheets beneath you as your husband ceased to surprise you. He let go of your wrist and used that hand to fondle your clit once more. How he was able to keep up like this after training so hard all day and the previous rounds he had gone on you was beyond you.

Your abdomen was starting to burn with another orgasm starting to build up within you. Kyojuro was feeling the same thing. He put down your legs to help you feel more comfortable, and you wrapped them around his waist, welcoming him in even deeper into you. He was panting, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, giving him access to your neck.

He sucked in the nape of your neck, his other hand rubbing tight circles around your oversensitive clit and his cock jamming against your g-spot. All of it was perfect. There wasn't any other way to put it, it was simply heaven.

" Kyo-Kyo-oo-juro. " You moaned shakingly, your legs clenching around his waist. He couldn't sense your orgasm building up again, and so he thrusted into you harder. You moaned with every thrust, and he growled in your ear.

" Louder. " He snarled against your ear, smacking your ass hard. You whimpered and weakly moved your mouth to his good ear. You moaned directly into it, your fingernails clawing at his back. He didn't seem to flinch at the contact, in fact, it only egged him on further. He kissed your neck sweetly before he bit down on it, inflicting a loud grunt out of you in the process.

" Kyojuro! " You yelled this time, bucking your hips towards his and arching your back off the bed while you clung onto him. You could feel his lips curling up into a smirk against your neck while he kissed you.

" Good girl. " He huffed, rising his body up and holding onto the headboard with one hand as he pounded into you. The headboard slammed against the wall, the bed creaking under your bodies as he fucked you in an almost animalistic way. The primal look in his eyes as he gritted his teeth and fucked you hard was something you had never expected to see in him.

It made your pussy ache just seeing him like he was in that moment. He still had one of his hands in-between your thighs, continuing to rub you clit. You scratched his forearm and squeaked loudly as he persisted to give you exactly what you needed. He was panting heavily, and he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, his firey blond and red hair sticking to his sweaty face.

" Little flame, I am going to come soon. Where can I? " He asked, his voice husky but very hoarse, his fatigue finally starting to show after going on for so long. You curled your fist into the sheesh under you and looked back at him with an expression that mirrored his own.

" I-inside. " You muttered, your voice so quiet that his half-deaf ears didn't even pick up on it. The only way he even knew what you said was because he read your lips: a skill he had become a master of ever since he damaged his ear drums in battle.

Kyojuro flew his head back, his thrusts starting to slow down and become sloppy as his orgasm started to become more apparent. He braced his arms at either side of your head and stole your lips in another heated kiss. His hips shook, and hot ropes of his long-awaited orgasm finally spilling into your warm core. He buried himself to the hilt and sat still for a moment as he came inside you.

Your orgasm followed shortly behind his after he pulled out, keeping you busy and warm by fingering you and stimulating your sensitive clit. The hot liquid of your cum dropped down his fingers, and that was the moment when the both of you had decided that you were satisfied. His withdrew his fingers from your warmth and collapsed onto the bed next to you.

For several minutes, it was just the both of you trying to cool off without moving too much and laying next to each other, the room filled with your joined panting. You usually didn't immediately go to cuddling after sex because Kyojuros body had the tendancy to ' overheat ' like a battery and it took him a very long time to cool down. He turned to look at you, reaching his warm hand out to brush some loose strands of hair out of your face.

" How are you feeling? " He asked you, looking at you with a smile. You smiled back and intertwined your fingers with his.

" Good. Are you feeling better? You said earlier you were upset. " You recalled, getting butterflies as you remembered the way he bent you over the kotatsu table. He looked at you blankly like he usually did when he didn't hear what you said.

Kyojuro did not pick up on that last part of the sentence.

" Come again? " He leaned his good ear closer to your mouth, inviting you to repeat what you said.

" You said you were upset earlier. " You said, louder this time. " What were you upset about? "

Kyojuro chuckled and moved back to where he was before, propping himself up on his elbow.

" Who knows? I can't even remember. "

[bunnysthirstcorner]

A short and spicy DinoClassico X reader/oc : Dino gets possessive and jealous after a gala meeting in which other vamps seemed a bit too friendly with his woman!

Warnings: Posessive!Dino, some spice as well as general red flagness that this man is known for.

I had alot of fun with this! I hope it was what you wanted.

The air was sweet; Sickingly sweet.

The Aristocrat hated the rich perfumes that the wealthy women wore. His poor vampiric senses could only take so much but despite this he could tell where his beloved 5th and final wife was at due to the perfume he gifted her, almost like a clear fresh air amongst the decadence of Aristocracy. He had gifted each of his wives this smell so he could tell where they were; Only letting him know when the smell was gone so was the wife. 4 times he endured this and with the advice of his butler, he agreed to marry for the 5th time but he will do so on his terms.

This is where his final wife came into picture; His favorite due to being his choice. He was rather possessive of her as she wasn't of vampire blood but human. A very logical human at that. His son and heir adored her so he decided to keep a closer eye on her during these parties and to his ire; It brought other lords to her like moths to a light due to her being approachable. In the back where he lurked, hunched over as his tired eyes were watching intently as one particular lord places his hand on her shoulder as if they were old friends.

Sickening. Improper.

With the hour from the clock alerted him of the time, he made his move to his wife where he gave a glare to the other lord that spoke 'back off' as he has his hand on her elbow to get her attention.

"Dear, we need to get going, I got message that we need to arrive home." He replied and with not knowing better, his wife agreed and hurried with her goodbyes and left. Once in the carriage was when she asked what the issue was, it was when he took a gloved hand of hers and peeled the glove off. "Oh, its nothing." He replied as this resulted her in tilting her head before she felt a sharpness sinking into her wrist.

Dino took a taste of her rich blood

"Those lords where swarming over what was mine, I didn't think you'd allow such attention....Maybe I should keep you on a shorter leash..." He replied with a cool venom in his tone that spore of his ilk of his previous feelings at the gathering. "What? Dino, dear, don't think that way" You replied in defense as the firm grip he had kept hold on your wrist. "I was only being polite. I never grew up in this life, I didn't want to disgrace the Classico name by being rude." She reasoned, her tone assuring as was her warm gaze onto his.

His eyes looked to hers to see if her words were false but low, they spoke the truth. Licking the ruby off of his thin lips, he gave a small peck to the spot he bit to then have gloved fingers keep the injury from flowing. He didn't speak but his hold spoke of his settled emotions as he looked to her before he leaned to her neck, inhaling the fresh scent before his tongue licked at her pulse point. He could smell her delicious life force as it caused his fangs to itch for a bite but he refused. He wanted her human a bit longer before taking The cursing bite of immortality.

He has to be sure she will stick around.

"D-Dino..." You replied with a small gasp. Your neck has always been a sensitive spot which resorted a small chuckle from him as he then parted, sitting next to her as he released his hold on her wrist. The spot was red but it didn't hurt as much due to his touch.

"When we get home, Go to the bedroom....I will make sure those lords know that you're Lady Classico , not some Debutant to swarm over." he said as the carriage was up the road to the mansion. You felt your cheeks grow hot and pink from the promise of the rare union in bed. 'Would he really keep his promise?' You thought. Surely he's as tired as you are and won't be as energetic.

Sadly, you don't get much sleep that night. It was worth the ache of his back.

[marthawrites]

Bloodlust

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: 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.

Includes: Contains future Fire and Blood spoilers (prelude to battle at rook's rest and a couple of the events leading up to it - mentioned, but not heavily described), and SMUT. Featuring murder (no descriptions of it), blood, Aemond's slightly (?) unhinged, blood eating (this is a fantasy in a work of fiction - please do not do this irl), reader is hot for Aemond's gloves, blowjob, rough Aemond, minor praise, unprotected vaginal sex, brief degradation, creampie, and reader and Aemond say 'i love you' at the end. Whew! Apologies if I missed anything!

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is pure filth. Sorry for the grainy header photo. This specific gif is still driving me insane and was the whole inspiration for this fic! As always, reader is non-descript and I hope you enjoy it! ♥

With Lucerys’ death, the war of ravens came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began.

Prince Aemond Targaryen, your lord husband, barely allowed you from his side much less from his sight. 

Kinslayer everyone called him. In fear, in awe, as a curse. 

After the murder of the King’s princeling son, Jaehaerys Targaryen, King Aegon II would no longer fight this war with quills and ink. He meant to win it with swords and blood. An eye for an eye. A son for a son. King Aegon dehanded his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand of the King and gave the pin to Crison Cole instead. Criston was ravenous for it and immediately began planning an attack against the Blacks.

Duskendale would likely stand little chance against the Greens who were three-thousand men strong. If by some miracle they were able to defend their city, Aemond upon Vhagar and Aegon upon Sunfyre would overwhelm them from above.

Despite the odds being in your husband’s favor, anxiety still gnawed at you from the inside. The hour was late and sleep evaded you at every chance inside your martial tent. War was hardly the place for a woman, but Aemond refused to let you stay behind at the Red Keep while he marched to battle. He trusted your safety to no one except for himself. He deemed there wasn’t a safer place in all of Westeros than with him. You believed him.

You weren’t the only woman traveling with their army. There were other lady wives in similar positions to your own, a few cooks as well, and medics. Judging by some things you’d heard along the way, you weren’t too sure if there wasn’t a gaggle of whores somewhere too. 

The company of other women made you feel significantly better–whether they were whores or healers alike.

No one was allowed in yours and Aemond’s tent, however, and everyone knew that. Regardless if you and Aemond were inside or not, a pair of guards stood watch outside at all times. Tonight, a third armored man joined.

Criston, Aemond, and a small group of soldiers scouted ahead to gather what information they could on Duskendale’s defense. Hours had passed since they left. Ideas, scenarios, and other horrible images filled your brain on what might be happening. The entire scouting party was extremely skilled; the rational part of your brain knew they’d be able to handle anything that crossed their path. Yet… what if Duskendale housed monsters like the Targaryens housed dragons?

There wasn’t any room for a fire inside the tent. Nor was it safe. An oil lamp sat atop a makeshift desk and a few scattered candles lit the darkest corners of the space. Laying on your side, you watched all of the little flames and prayed for your husband’s safe return. 

Perhaps you dozed off, or went into a sort of prayer-induced trance, or simply lost track of time, but a clattering commotion outside seized your attention. Fight, flight, freeze: the instincts of any animal. Leaning up you grabbed a dagger from the makeshift nightstand. You held it in front of you, ready to defend yourself if need be. Fight. You would go down fighting. 

Aemond’s soft voice whooshed inside on a rush of cold night air. “Ābrazȳrys.” wife

“My love!” You said with an exhalation. You laid the dagger back down and stood, stepping to him with hurried strides. “Blessed Seven you returned! I’ve been so worried.”

He walked towards you as you came to him, long steps slow and sure. If he had taken note of the dagger in your hand he made no mention of it. His silence was almost as unnerving as the glint of his dilated eye in the low light.

You meant to throw your arms around his neck and squeeze him against you so you knew him to be real and true, right here and now, rather than a ghost summoned by your worst nightmare. But, something stopped you. You stared up at him, doe-eyed.

The blood splattered across his alabaster face spoke more words than he could vocalize. The smell of him–metallic and heavy–sent your own blood rushing. Even his hair was matted by thick streaks of dark blood. “What happened?”

A serpentine grin slid across his chiseled face and his seeing eye lit with deranged lust. His gloved hands gripped around your forearms, squeezing. “They’re dead.”

“W-who?”

“Duskendale scouts. We found them, questioned them, and killed them,” he answered with  soft-spoken intensity, gripping your arms tighter. “Cole’s speaking with Aegon now. We attack tomorrow. Duskendale will fall, and Rook’s Rest after. We will cripple my half-sister and uncle’s strategy before they gain it.”

Your pulse hammered against your chest. Behind your ears. You weren’t sure if Aemond realized how harshly he held your arms. It hurt. “Th-that’s wonderful news,” you stammered, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and creeping fright. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head and let go of your arms. Then, he held your face as he crashed his mouth down to yours, kissing you with victory that smelled, and tasted, of copper. “My brother will have his throne,” he rasped against your mouth. “My whore of a sister and her bastard horde will never claim what is Aegon’s by right.”

You whimpered against his mouth, against his words, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hip. Lifting your hands to grip onto the front of his dark green doublet, your breath caught in your throat. Blood stained the white of your chemise where he had squeezed your forearms. It looked nearly black in the tent’s candlelight. Leaning back half a step, you looked down your body and saw the front of you stained as well. Not only was his face and hair speckled with blood, but his new military garb was covered in it. “Aemond…!”

“Shh, my sweet wife,” he said against your neck, nipping the sensitive flesh.

Confusion, elation, and lust roared through your body, all of them trying to outdo each other. None of the emotions won. They only succeeded in tightening the muscles of your belly and making your entire nervous system quiver. Why were you like this? Why did your prince husband covered in other people’s blood make you yearn with dark desire? Goosebumps rose on your skin as Aemond nipped, kissed, and sucked all along your neck and shoulder. On instinct, you began to work open the buttons on his overcoat; you’d only seen him in this garb a few times, and your fingers fumbled with inexperience over them.

“I’d do it all again,” he said by your ear. “I will do it again. All across the Seven Kingdoms.”

You understood his meaning. You heard what he left unsaid. Pulling back, you peered up into his seeing eye. A hundred emotions lay bare for you to see: rage, satisfaction, confidence, hunger. “Who are you doing it for?” You asked softly.

“For my brother. For my hatred of my half-sister. For you.”

Aemond’s leather glove was warm when you grabbed his hand–the blood on it slightly sticky to your bare touch–and you nuzzled your face into it. “My sweet, dark prince,” you cooed, kissing his palm. His fingers. Languid. Dizzy on the intoxicating aura radiating off him. You bit the tip of one finger, sly; blood that certainly wasn’t your husbands smeared your mouth.

Witnessing your reverence had Aemond groaning in low inaudible High Valyrian. His soft raspy voice praised you in words you didn’t know. With his free hand he pulled you against him, his hard cock pressing firmly against the soft span of your belly.

You moaned behind his hand. “You will win this war for your brother,” you said adoringly. “Not Crison, not Rosby, or Stokeworth, or anyone else. You and Vhagar.” The feeling of him against your belly had embers searing your senses. Without allowing yourself to think twice about it, you licked one of his gloved fingers. The leather was smooth beneath your tongue, and your tastebuds exploded with the coppery taste of some man’s blood.

Aemond fucking groaned. 

You did it again.

Tension sparked down your spine like lightning and that delicate space between your thighs clenched around nothing. Despite the barriers of clothing between you two you swore you felt him throb. “You are the only weapon Aegon needs.”

He watched in fascination as you shamelessly licked the bloodshed from his glove. He nearly spent in his pants as you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking. “My filthy wife,” he hissed, pulling you further into him. He kissed you again and this time he tasted blood. He licked into your mouth, seeking it deeper. 

Each little moan his passion coaxed from you, he swallowed whole. Once again you began fumbling with the front of his attire, working the buttons open until you were able to push it off his shoulders. Beneath he wore a simple linen shirt, and you helped tug that off, too. With one final nip to his bottom lip you began to sink down to your knees before him.

Aemond watched you hungerly. 

You could unbuckle his belt behind your back by now–it stood no chance as you deftly slid it open. The front of his pants didn’t fight you as his tunic did. You pulled them down enough to free his cock, and you wasted no time in pressing deliberate, hot, open-mouthed kisses along it. You didn’t care that he was unwashed. If anything, the scent of leather, sweat, and battle on him made your desire boil over. Saliva instinctively collected in your mouth, and your eager kisses soon had your tongue sliding along him. By the time you wrapped your soft, lovely mouth around him it was lewd, and wet, and slow. You looked up at him, watching him unravel as you made a sensuous show of swallowing as much of him as you could.

Aemond’s eye hooded as he watched you. He would never fucking tire of watching you take him whole–your mouth or your cunt. Blood still streaked your exquisite features. It made the whole thing obscene. Blood from men he killed to protect his brother. To keep the throne for him. To protect you. “Fucking hells–,” he hissed. “There… yeah, oh yeah, hold my cock in that little throat of yours.”

Tears brimmed your eyes as you held, drool already threatening to dribble down the swell of your lip onto your chin. You knew your husband liked it slow and messy like this. You knew he’d have the muscles of your throat flex around him until your head became dizzy from lack of air. You loved it–and he knew that. You held onto his thighs for support, cunt soaked and throbbing between your legs.

He pulled back slightly, before pushing forward, giving your slobbering mouth deep shallow thrusts. “I love how you sound gagging,” he praised, threading his gloved hand into your hair.

You nodded, tears still threatening to leave your eyes, moaning deep in your throat to his lecherous praise.

With a handful of your hair your prince husband bobbed your head along his cock for his pleasure, fucking into your mouth with perfect timing. He tipped his head back. He could never get enough of this.

His strokes were getting longer and quicker, now, a sure sign that he was getting close to finishing. You held on all the while, savoring the rough treatment as much, or perhaps more, than he was.

Finally, he stopped. Looking down at you again he said, out of breath, “I want to fill your cunny tonight, not your mouth.” Then, he clicked his tongue and said, “up.” He helped you stand, and before he could stop himself he was kissing you again, wild and voracious, licking away any trace of blood he had left on your face from earlier. He walked you backwards to the bed all the while and only stopped when the backs of your legs bumped into the cot. Smirking, he helped you out of your shift. He pushed you back onto it before finally stepping out of his pants and boots. 

Below him, you didn’t even care that his Targaryen hair was clumped with dried bits of blood. No, all you cared about was the weight of his cock as he settled it against you. Hot, heavy, smooth. He was perfect. All of him was perfect.

He squeezed your breasts in his hands–he was still wearing those fucking gloves! Of course he took everything off except for those!–rumbling his appreciation at the softness of them. His cock lined up with you effortlessly. With a push of his hips, he sunk into you. 

The stretch of him, the fullness of him, the sensation of being as close to him as you ever could be, had your eyes rolling closed and mouth parting open. In that same effortless manner, your legs wrapped around his trim waist. You were so wet that your body immediately yielded to him. You bit back a moan, not wanting to draw attention from anyone who might be in earshot of your tent.

Above you, Aemond smiled a dark smile. Shadows danced across his features and made the angular lines of his face sharper. “How does it feel to be right where you belong? Under me, full of me, wet as a maiden and hungry as a whore?”

Your legs flexed around him tighter. Heat bloomed beneath your face. “S-so fucking good..!”

He could see you holding back your sounds of pleasure. “Let them hear you,” he said, thrusting into you harder. Deeper. “Open that pretty mouth and let them hear.” Fingers pinched your nipples as he plunged into you again and again, filling you to your body’s end.

Even if he wanted you to stay quiet there was no way you could. Your sounds of pleasure spilled from your mouth as he nearly fucked you through the cot. It was as divine as it was harsh. Rough as it was loving. You weren't going to last long. Aemond wouldn’t either. “God–! Aemond..!” His name left your mouth in a wanton gasp, back arching.

With your mouth hanging open, he pushed two fingers inside to muffle some of those beautiful noises. “My pretty wife overwhelmed with bloodlust,” he crooned, tilting his head as he watched your fucked-out expressions.  “Come with me,” he rasped, cock swelling impossibly harder. “Come with me.”

You did. The tension in your belly snapped, and any restraint you were holding vanished. Your thighs quivered around him. The emotion and sensation that overcame you was intense and all consuming. Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. You’d give him a babe tonight. You knew you would.

He throbbed inside your flexing and relaxing walls, his seed filling you past the brim of your cunt. It dribbled out of you while his thrusts slowed. His breath came heavy and labored, face finally softening in the orange glow of the tent. “Vok. perfect You are so perfect,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours as you both came down from the heights of shared orgasm.

Your legs loosened around him until they lay open, allowing him to slip out from the cradle of your body. “Duskendale will fall tomorrow,” you said to him, kissing him gently. “You will be the victor.”

He laid beside you, then, and pulled you against him so you were laying on your sides face to face. “Anyone who dare face me will fall. The entire realm will fall before me,” he answered with the softest utmost confidence.

Nodding, you smiled and kissed him again. “The world is yours, my prince. With fire and blood.”

“With fire and blood,” he proclaimed, hooking your leg over his waist. Then, he whispered, “I love you.”

And you said it back, meaning it wholly.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[lunajay33]

The One🤎

Summary: You were in the line up and Negan took a liking towards you taking you back to the sanctuary, he wants you as another wife but you’re different (age gap)

Pairing: Negan Smith x f!reader

•Masterlist•

You were sitting in the line up next to Carl, you were the second youngest of the group but for some reason you weren’t scared even though you were surrounded by men with guns and a man swinging around a bat

“Well now look at you, quite the beauty”

“Perv” the group looked at you like you were insane to talk to him like that after what he just did to Abraham

He kneeled in front of you smirking, it made your heart thump it was strange a feeling you’ve never really felt before

“Got a mouth on her too, I like it, how old?”

“22” you said with less sass this time

“Hmmmm I was thinking of killing another one of you but I think I’ll take you home instead” he laughed as he motioned to a man to move you to Negans truck

“You better not touch her” Michonne stated with no fear

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll take real good care of her………..let’s go boys!” Everyone got in there trucks, Negan hoping in the drivers seat just you and him, you looked out to window to those left in the line up watching you with fear, fear for you and what might happen

The truck rolled out of the dirt road until the group was was no longer in sight, leaving you to the silence of the truck, only the sound of Negan tapping on the steering wheel

“Do you have any music in this truck at least” you groaned hating the silence, never was one for it

He laughed pointing to the glove box

“Something should be in there darling”

Rummaging through the few cds that were in the glove box you found a Lana Del Rey CD making you laugh from shock

“Didn’t take you for a Lana man” you said as you slid the CD into the stereo skipping to White Mustang sitting back sighing in relief having missed this song

“What can I say, it’s enticing music, really gets the ladies in the mood”

“Oh really, and how many “ladies” do you get in the mood?” You asked in disbelief a little jealous as well even though you barely knew this man

“I have some wives, you might be the next”

“Well I don’t know what they’re like but if you want me as your wife it’s not going to be that easy and I won’t compete for a man” you didn’t know where this confidence came from but he made you feel a type of way

Negan showed you around the compound finally showing you where you’d be staying

“And this is your room, the other wives are all in the surrounding rooms, mines the one right at the end, if you ever need something”

“You live pretty lavishly up here, why do you need to steal from other communities” you groaned as you sat on the bed

“It’s the way I run things Angel get use to it, I’ll let you settle there will be a man on the outside of the door so you don’t try to escape” he said with that devilish smirk before he left closing the door behind him

You sighed laying back on the bed, in one day things changed so much, Maggie got sick something obviously wrong with the baby, caught by the saviours, Negan finishing off Abraham and now you were taken away from the people you loved, but maybe it was for the best maybe if he hadn’t taken you he might have killed more, if it meant they could live you could put up with whatever was going to happen here

The days went by, it had to have been a week and you haven’t left the room, the man at your door brought you food ever so often but you only ever had a little and picked at it, you felt like a prisoner, you thought since Negan took a liking to you that maybe he’d be around more

It was late in the middle of the night and the man at the door was long gone, you opened the door and the hall was silent, tiptoeing down the hall to the last room Negan said was his, you raised your hand to knock but decided to just go on in, turn the nob and opening slowly, peaking in to see him fast asleep on his huge bed the moon shining in through the windows

You walked to his side of the bed and poked his arm, no movement, you pushed him a bit harder but he only groaned

“Negan?” You whispered finally waking him up, he sat up in bed obviously still a bit out of it

“Angel what’re you doing here so late?” Suddenly this felt like an embarrassingly bad decision but it didn’t change how you were feeling

“I’m……I’m lonely”

You were ready for his quick wit or a horny remark but he just moved over and raised the blankets

“Well come on” you slide in next to him, the woodsy cherry cologne he wore surrounded you calming your nerves, you both laid down face to face

“None of the other wives have ever willingly come to my room” he said

“Why didn’t you come to mine? It’s been a week”

“I don’t know, guess you seem different than the others didn’t wanna blow my chances” this new side of him was a lot more comforting to be around

“Oh so you think you have a chance” you said letting out a sarcastic laugh

“You’re the one that came to my bed” he smirked

“I guess you could have a chance here but o don’t wanna be just another wife Negan” you said before sleep overcame you and you were out

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed except for a piece of paper where Negan was, you opened it a little nervous

“I’m out figuring some things out, I left you some new clothes on the edge of the bed, breakfast is on the desk, get your rest Angel”

Angel, that word sent a thrill through you, you looked to the end of the bed seeing a ivory lacy dress with a pair of worn cowgirl type boots and it fit perfectly, looking at the desk to see strawberries and pancakes, starving you ate the whole thing, tempted to lick the plate

The day went on and it was getting boring, you found a CD player and another Lana del Rey disc, playing Blue Jeans, you walked around the room checking out what he’s collected, a lot of CDs from nickelback to Lana to Alice in chains, a huge range of music, his closet was full of plaid and plain tshirts, you took a brown plaid and threw it on over your dress seeming to match perfectly and his cologne still lingered making your heart thump like the first time you talked

“Looking pretty gorgeous Angel, I see the clothes sit perfect” you heard from behind you making you jump and spin around seeing him leaning against the door frame

“Sorry I was a little cold and I just wanted to wear one” you said feeling embarrased

“Well I think you should wear my clothes more often” he smirked as he took your hand and led you to sit on the bed

“What did you do today? I thought you’d be here when I woke up”

“Your words got to me last night, I know we’ve barely known eachother but…..it’s been a long time since someone’s made me feel this way”

“How do I make you feel?” You asked sitting closer

“Oh I think you know Angel, cause I think you feel the same way, you get a thrill around me, your heart thumps when you’re close to me, I want that more than some meaningless hookups…….thats why let the other wives go, broke everything off, I wanna see where this can go just you and me” he said squeezing your hand

“Really you did that for me?”

“I want a chance Angel, if you’re up for it”

“I’m all yours Negan, but you have to leave Alexandria alone, they’re still my family……please”

“Whatever you want Angel, just want you happy”

He pushed your hair back behind your ear tracing his fingers down you checks to your jaw, butterflies going crazy in your stomach

“I might be a little inexperienced compared to you, I don’t wanna get your hopes up” he laughed before realizing you were serious

“Oh you’re serious, how have you never been with someone, you’re so sexy”

“Well you know the world ended and I never really found the person or the time to bang one out”

“Don’t worry baby, I got you, show you a real good time, when you’re ready”

[cougheemedicine]

Light as a Feather

Blade x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2165

Warnings: Mostly fluff, angst at the end, allusions to prostitution but nothing actually happens, skimmed over but not proof read (I think that’s it?)

Content: Reader works in a brothel as an escort, Reader is the stellaron hunter's informant, mutual pining, longing, Reader yearns for non-intimate affection, Blade is bad at any kind of affection but is trying, Kafka and Silver Wolf mentioned

Summary: As cut-throat and ruthless as Blade could be, he was always gentle with you. Something you’re not used to in your line of work.

A/n: Continuation of my previous work You but can be read on its' own.

Also, guess who’s now obsessed with Love and Deepspace

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

        Being arm candy for some rich politician for a night was easy enough on its own. Dress yourself to the nines in your finest finery, powder yourself in only the most expensive make up, and flash that show-stopping smile of yours. Make the other attendees laugh a little, and your patron may just throw in a tip.

        You've done it before, you've got the act down to an art at this point. When to laugh, when to bat your lashes, whose hand to kiss and who to turn your nose up to. You'll do anything for the right price.

        But there's something about this place, and the patrons, that sends a shiver clawing up your spine. The eyes are colder than you're used to, and the champagne is sour. The pillars holding up the high ceilings and grand chandeliers are rotten at the base, and you don't know how much longer the foundation will hold.

        Your patron, a devilishly handsome politician who'd recently taken the spotlight for all the wrong reasons, takes your hand. He grips your fingers so tightly you wouldn't have been able to pull away if you tried. Making a show of it, he kisses the ring resting on your pinkie finger, the ring he had bought you. "I'll be back shortly. Entertain those officials and their wives for me, won't you? And save me a dance,"

        Music swells as your patron leaves, you catch him shaking hands with a woman in violet out of the corner of your eye before your attention is recaptured by the officials you have hanging off your every word. The lights slowly dim, and groups break off into pairs, heading to the dancefloor. Slowly the people surrounding you dissipate, and you can finally breathe. Empty words, honeyed smiles covering rancid ambitions. It was an entirely new language to learn, and you weren't any kind of scholar.

        The air changes, colder somehow, and you feel eyes on you once more. Though, these eyes don't disgust you.

        "Hey, you,"

        Blade hums, "You look tired,"

        Blade stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Dressed just as fancily as you, even his long hair is elaborately braided back, surely Kafka and Silver Wolf's doing. You glare at him from your periphery. "Good evening to you as well, good sir. What happened to 'you look nice'?"

        Blade hums again, his shoulder brushes against yours, and his gloved fingers ever so lightly graze your knuckles.

        The song changes, and pairs change and sway. People weave their way back to the sidelines as a slow waltz resonates throughout the hall.

        "I didn't know you'd be here of all places. I thought you'd wait till he was somewhere less... public," Your patron didn't choose you. You had carefully placed your picture at the top of the pile of escorts he frequented, all so he'd try to cozy up to you in the way all people of his ilk did when faced with a beautiful face and a silver tongue. You'd been slowly building a file on him for weeks.

        Blade drops his gaze, playing with the ruby ring on your finger worth more than anything you own. "Plan's changed. Kafka's distracting him while Silver Wolf clears his files. I'm here to get you out since we didn't tell you anything. Things'll get messy when he realizes,"

        "Aw, I'm touched. Kafka looks great in violet by the way," Your jest falls as flat as your tone. Far too done with everything to be expressive. You're sure Blade won't mind. "You could've waited till he paid me y'know. I only got the down payment,"

        Blade sighs, and he retracts his hand. "Elio says he needs him gone, we couldn't wait any longer. I'll make sure you're properly compensated,"

        Once more the song changes, another waltz. You step forward, setting your champagne flute on the tray of a passing server before offering your hand to the stellaron hunter. "May I have a dance first? I won't step on your feet. Promise,"

        Blade pulls his lips into a line, contemplative, and a grin spreads across your painted lips as he relents, taking your hand. "Just one,"

        You tug him to the dancefloor, resting your hand on his shoulder. Blade's hand ghosts over the small of your back, barely even guiding you as you both sway to the melody. He keeps you close, despite his hesitance to even touch you. With nothing but a gentle squeeze of your fingers, Blade spins you, tugging you even closer.

        You smile, a short laugh leaving your lips when you finally look at the man's face. His eyes are focused solely on you. Deep crimson, reminiscent only of blood, meets your eye with such a burning intensity you can't bare look away. Even if another shiver goes up your spine, the cause of it completely different than previously.

        You and Blade continue to sway to the music, your chest grazing his, and the feeling of his fingers ghosting over the fabric covering your back sending icy tingles down your back.

°•.

        Ever so lightly, like you'd shatter under his touch, Blade leads you to the balcony of the hall. The eyes of the officials you were entertaining earlier pierce your flesh like rusty daggers, somehow able to zero in on you from across the grand banquet hall. As piercing as their eyes are, and as venom seeps from their lips, surely saying nothing good about you. You keep your gaze forward.

        Blade could feel you stiffen through his gloves and the fabric of your garment. You can feel his thumb rub gentle circles on your back. You catch when his eyes flit to your form, before over his shoulder back into the fray of the event. The patrons, not at all subtly, whispering behind their fans and plates of hors d'oeuvres.

       He huffs, scanning the balcony before bringing you closer by the hip. “Blade, what are you doing?”

       “Hold tight,”

       “What? Why?” A scream leaves your lips, heart in your throat, arms snapping around Blade faster than even you could process as Blade jumps from the balcony of the venue to the roof of a block of luxury condos.

       Blade stabilizes you, hands firm on your shoulders as your legs gain feeling again. “Never,” You grit through heavy breaths “Do that again,”

       Not a chuckle, or even a hum of acknowledgment from the man as he steps away from you, heading to the edge of the roof to get a better look of the surroundings. Your heart clenches in a way unfamiliar to you, especially when paired with the tingling that came with such a delicate touch.

       To think a touch so feather-light from a man as stoic as Blade would have you swooning like a maiden in love. You were used to rough. Controlling and assertive. Like you were a mere thing instead of a living, breathing being. Something as small as Blade brushing his knuckles against yours and playing with the ring on your finger shouldn’t leave you, a practised escort, reeling and needing to collect yourself in the way it does.

       “Well, my knight in shining armour, what are we to do now?” You tack your typical smile on your face, striding forward with a new strength in your gait as if you hadn’t just been clinging to him for fear of collapsing on yourself not even a minute prior. Side by side once more, Blade turns to you, eyes swirling with something so dim you can barely read it. He offers you his hand, stone-faced as ever. “Let’s get you home,”

       It hits you like a bullet, jarring in a way you almost don’t feel it until it’s well too late, and the spark from the barrel has already faded. Blade’s outstretched hand, an offering instead of a command. Even as you place your hand atop his, he doesn’t even clasp it, only brushing his thumb over your knuckles, and that damn ring.

       Blade always gave you the choice. The choice to pull away, the choice to accept. A touch so light you can barely feel it but you still know it’s there. Light as a feather.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

       Blade groans audibly as he tugs the pins from his hair, the elaborate braids and twists tumbling down his back when he runs his gloved hand through his hair. Now in the comfort of your room, you do the same. Wiping the make up from your face after changing into something much more comfortable. You can see his reflection in your vanity mirror, his back is turned to you.

       “You’re going to get your hair all tangled doing that,”

       Crimson eyes dart to meet yours through the mirror. Blade shrugs his shoulders, turning to you fully in the mirror, “It’s fine,”

       You roll your eyes, being as dramatic as you can with the action as you stand from the stool. You turn to Blade, one hand on your hip and a brush in the other. “Sit down, mister,”

       Blade only blinks at you, dropping his hands to his sides. The stalemate between you both is short lived when Blade sighs heavily, making his way across the room and sitting himself down on your vanity stool. You grin, you win again. Blade’s eyes snap to yours in the mirror, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not in the mood to argue with you,”

       You hum, situating yourself behind him as you begin brushing his hair “Mhm, whatever you say Bladie,”

       Minutes pass in silence. Only the occasional huff from Blade when your brush hits a particularly tough knot, and your amused hums when your eyes meet Blade’s through the mirror. He looks thoroughly annoyed, and you’re living for it.

       “You’re enjoying this far too much,”

       “Shush, you. If you wanted me to stop you’d have gotten up.”

       Silence follows your exchange, even as you set your brush down. You run your fingers through his hair, twisting it and letting it lay over his shoulder. “Perfect. Now turn to me, your bangs are uneven,”

       Blade does as you say, wordlessly looking up at you from his place. It’s only then do you realize how close the both of you are. Barely three inches of space between you. Blade’s eyelids droop, gazing at you hazily as you raise a hand to his jaw. Tentatively, you let just your fingertips graze his skin, your fingers under his chin while your thumb just barely brushes his jawline. You suck in a breath, using your free hand to fix his bangs. “May I kiss you?”

       “You-“ Blade rasps, barely above a whisper before cutting himself off as you inch closer. As awkward as the angle is, you’re standing between his legs, basically hovering over him. Neither of you move away. A small smile curls across your lips. Blade never forced anything on you, dangling flint the fact he paid you over your head to push you along. The fleeting touches, and stolen time were never a precursor to anything. You could always pull away.

       An inch. A centimetre. Then nothing at all. Blade stands abruptly, the wooden stool scratching against the floor making you wince. You lick your lips, the buzzing sensation of what could’ve been still present. Blade raises his hands, rubbing the underside of your arms as your eyes meet once more. Something you could almost read as regret pooling in his eyes. “Not-“ He sucks in a breath, “Not like this,”

       “Blade, what do you mean-?“

       He dodges your question, weaving around you to your balcony. You all but scramble to follow him, barely avoiding slamming yourself into the glass pane doors. His white-knuckle grip on the railing lessens as you trail behind him. Silently, you place your hand on his, and he turns to you. He stares at you, in that way he always does. Something you can’t quite place in his gaze as he looks at you. He doesn’t move as you get closer again, prying his fingers from the railing to lace with yours.

       “I’m sorry, Blade. I shouldn’t have-“ Blade cuts you off, silently he leans forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His grip on your interlocked hands tightens, ever so slightly. The pressure is barely there, you could back away if you wanted. Slip your hand from his and go back inside, but you’d be insane if you did. Blade is the one who back away. The one to lean back, leaving a tingling sensation in your forehead. The one to pry his hand from yours. 

       And, just like that, he’s gone. Off like he was never even there. You raise a hand to your forehead, brushing your thumb against where his lips had been. Light as a feather.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

[bratdotcom]

Be My Baby !! ♡

( re2r!Leon Kennedy x GN!reader || milkshake date gone wrong ?! maybe a little? ooc leon? he's overwhelmed from work and wants to make this date perfect for you ♡ leon cries a bit - only because he's overwhelmed and feels bad ♡ )

Leon smiles shyly down at you as you cling to his arm. He awkwardly holds onto your waist, gently pressing his hand against the dip of your curves as if you'd break under his touch. He doesn't know what to say, but he smiles anyway.

On his other hand, was a tray. Two cups of milkshakes were its contents, the cups swaying in place as you both walked towards his cop car. It wasn't the most ideal date for Leon. He only wanted the beat for you. A milkshake date, like how they did it in the movies.

Too bad for Leon, the diner he wanted to take you was full, and he just had to take over for the senior officers today since they were out with their wives this day, too. Poor rookie.

“I hope you aren't mad or anything,” He says, somewhat embarrassed with yours and his current situation. This isn't how he planned it at all. “Why would I be mad?” You chuckle softly, not getting why he sounded so embarrassed. “It's just…” He trails off, pouting subconsciously. “I didn't plan it out like this. We were supposed to take my car. And…and go to that diner you always wanted to go to,” His pout turns into a more noticeable frown as he speaks his mind. Usually, Leon was the type to keep to himself. He didn't want you to worry for him. If anything, he'd rather have him worrying for you instead of the other way around.

Leon sounded like he was going to cry. You could tell by the way his voice wavered, the way it went up in pitch slightly. He was going to cry. He didn't want to cry, but he was too overwhelmed with it all. None of this was going his way. It was supposed to be perfect for you.

“Hey, hey…it's okay.” You reassure him, you stop in your tracks, which makes him stop as well. “It doesn't have to be perfect, Leon.” You add, your hand snakes down his arm and into his.

“It's the thought that counts, right? Isn't that what you always say?” You tease affectionately, hoping it'd make him feel less bad about things out of his control. He nods his head, sniffling off his tears. He was a bit glad he wasn't actually crying right now. He didn't want you to worry and less for him.

He lets go of your hand, using his sleeve to awkwardly wipe away any wetness off his face. “R-right.” He repeats, sighing softly. “I only want the best for you. This was supposed to be-” Before he can repeat his tangent again, you cut him off with a kiss. A kiss on the lips, your hands cup the warm apples of his cheeks. You can feel him heat up immediately after you pull away from him. The pads of your palms soak in the heat from his face.

“Just go with the flow, okay? You can't control everything, Leon.” You say, holding his hand again as you pull your palms away from his face. He nodded again, blinking as he processed what you just did. You've been dating for a while now, but he still got flustered from the way you kissed him. He didn't mind when you kissed him like this, though. Sometimes his train of thought had to be cut off, for his own sake. Kissing him was probably the best way to do it.

You hold his hand, instinctively he holds yours back. Gently squeezing it to keep himself grounded. He was glad he wasn't wearing his patrol gloves, it would've been harder to keep your hand in his.

“See? I told you.” You say, after a couple minutes of waking in complete silence. You let Leon calm himself down, you being there for him was all he needed.

Playfully, you swing both of your arms together, your hand still in his as you walk. This makes Leon crack a small smile.

Things didn't go as planned, but as long as he had you, it'd always be okay. You promised.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Easy Access

Relationship: Negan x fem!Reader

Content: free use kink, fingering, p in v, dom/sub dynamic, overall dirty talk, breeding kink

Summary: After becoming one of Negan’s wives, you soon come to find out exactly why he prefers you all in dresses. One day, when Negan instructs you to wear less than normal, you discover something that riles him up more than anything.

A/N: This is my first Negan story, and although it’s just a oneshot, I hope you all enjoy!

The last few months had become a blur. One day, you were captured by the Saviors from your small community, seemingly the next Negan was scouting you out to be his new wife. Originally opposed to the idea, worries of feeling like a prize than a person, Negan had shown you that he gives each of the wives individual attention. After surviving in the post-apocalypse world, wearing dresses again was foreign. Something about the outfit reminded you of your safety - that would wouldn’t have to run to live anymore, that you could finally focus on your looks again.

Your ‘job’, if you could call it that, was to be beautiful and obedient, though the obedience part was sometimes difficult. But, you had proven yourself to your leader and remained faithful to him. He delivered above and beyond any sexual experience you had before him, leaving you absolutely starstruck and hungry for more when you had time together.

Yesterday Negan had instructed you to ‘forget the panties’ today, so all that was left what your elegant black sundress, a bra, and your heels. The feeling of the occasional breeze up your bare legs was odd, but something tightened in your stomach when Negan saw you in the afternoon, when the wives met with him to relax together.

Though the room was full of other gorgeous women, Negan could tear his eyes away from you, slowly trailing down your bare legs crossed in front of you. Goosebumps rose on your skin, an anticipation of what could happen if his hands wandered over you. As the wives talked to one another, you sipped a glass of white wine as you made eye contact with Negan. He gave you a lazy grin, to which you met it with a polite smile. His gloved hand pointed to his lap, a silent command to join him which you would happily oblige to.

You slowly walked over, swaying your hips in your new dress that hugged every curve in a way that made Negan drool over you. He greeted you with open arms as you settled onto him, resting his broad hands on your hips. As he gave idle small talk to the other wives his fingers teasingly moved across the fabric of your dress.

“So,” his husky whisper reached your ears, “you have anything on under this?”

You turned your head to him and shook it, eliciting a devilish grin from your husband. One of Negan’s fingers hooked at the hem of your dress tauntingly. Red painted your cheeks in a way that made Negan roll his hips up into yours, his hardened erection pressing against your ass.

“Ladies, I appreciate you taking the time to come here today. But, I do have some business to discuss with this one here,” he patted your leg, “This evening, I’m planning on hosting a dinner for all of you lovely wives, but in the meantime I’m gonna have to ask you all to head to your rooms.”

A few of the wives glanced your way in confusion, but your expression showed them that you had no clue what was going on either. Dutifully they left the room, leaving you and your husband to yourselves.

Silence fell in the room until Negan spoke again, making sure anyone else was out of earshot.

“Do you know why I asked you to ditch those panties for me?”

Your breath hitched slightly at his question, to which you shook your head, “No, sir.”

“Well, you see, my dear wife, I will let you know that it does happen to be a quite selfish reason,” he drawled on as a hand tugged at your dress. Negan hooked his fingers underneath and lifted the fabric until it rested at your hips.

With your thighs completely bare you shivered against the chill of the room.

“You’re shaking. You cold, sweetness?” You nodded to his question.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, I’m gonna find a way to warm you up pretty soon,” he muttered against your ear. The warmth of his breath across your skin left you with your head rolling back to his shoulder as your legs spread for his touch.

Negan let out a low chuckle while his hands wandered upward toward the apex of your thighs. What your husband didn’t know was that ever since he eyed you in the meeting, the heat in your abdomen had left you soaked for him. Your slick covered your inner thighs, inviting him in to let his greedy fingers to take over your senses. Dipping a single finger between your folds, Negan let out a low growl of approval.

“And look at that,” he cooed, “you’re just dripping for me, ain’t you, sweet girl?”

Your hips bucked at his touch, a silent plead for more of his skilled fingers. Negan ran slow circles over your swollen clit, helping you ride through the pleasure as your breaths came out in shaky spurts.

“I thought having your pussy bare to the world could give me some excitement, but I think it may have done that to you, too, angel,” he breathed against your neck, “But you see, my dear wife, the reason I asked you to do that was so we wouldn’t have so many damn clothes in the way.”

You gripped his hand with your own, tugging at it lower to slide his digits to your entrance. Unfortunately this isn’t what Negan had in mind. He urged your hands away that brought a whine from your throat.

“Can’t having you getting handsy, darlin’,” breathed Negan, “‘cause right now, this pussy doesn’t belong to you. And I want you to take a wild guess as to who owns it.”

You hated when he made you use your words, but it gave Negan a thrill when you spoke up in a pleading voice, “You do.”

“I’m sorry, what was that, sugar?”

“It’s… yours.”

“And what is ‘it’, my love?” He demanded softly, tugging your arms back. Negan shifted to create space between you and pinned your arms against his torso, keeping you from breaking free and exposing your aching cunt to him.

“My… my pussy. It’s yours, sir,” that had satisfied him, erupting a groan against your beck. Negan left warm, sloppy kisses along your skin until he reached your ear.

“Now,” he softly spoke, “I’m gonna use this pretty little pussy until I’m drained. That cunt of yours is gonna take my cock and milk it dry. You understand?”

You desperately nodded, arching your back in reply. Negan brought one hand to your chest while the other remained trained on your pussy. The hand on your chest pulled at the straps of your sundress over your shoulders to expose your chest, covered by your bra. Negan’s fingers idly played with your clit as he unhooked your bra. The two of you wiggled you out of it, and now fully bare under your dress, Negan let the straps fall, your breasts laid out for his pleasure.

Two fingers took a nipple and gently twisted, drawing out a sharp moan from you. Negan’s fingers teased the entrance of your drenched cunt, inviting him inside.

“You see how much easier this is, sweetheart? We don’t have all of those pesky underthings in the way of me using you,” he explained in a husky voice. He pulled his hands away without warning. You let out a soft gasp in protest, but he was already freeing your arms from behind your back.

“Stand up for me, baby girl,” commanded Negan, to which you obliged. You stood with shaking knees between his legs, his large erection rock hard in his jeans. Your husband eyed you carefully, “Let’s see you take that dress off. I need to see my beautiful wife in all of that glory.”

You heeded his instruction and lifted the dress over your head, falling to the floor beneath you. Negan beckoned you over with a finger before removing his pants and boxers, springing his cock free to rest against his stomach. At the sight, you could’ve sworn your mouth began to water, eager for him in any way he pleasured you.

“I’m not using that beautiful mouth today. Right now, I need that tight pussy swallowing my cock into you.”

He coaxed you into his lap, his hard length pressing against your soaked folds. Negan took your hips in his hands, dragging you back and forth along his member. Your knees had become weak, slumping against Negan as the pleasure came over you. His hands cupped your ass and lifted you above his length, lining the thick head with your entrance.

“Go on, baby, I wanna see you take me in,” muttered Negan. Your hips lowered onto him, filling your aching heat with his thick girth. As you settled down, and your moans evened out, Negan took your arms into his hands, placing them behind your back with his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he whispered as you rode him gently.

“Get nice and settled for me, babydoll. I’m gonna take care of you, ‘kay?” His voice filled your senses completely, your mouth agape in ecstasy. Negan braced his feet on the floor to buck his hips upward, sending his cock deeper into your pussy. He groaned at the sensation, the mix of your noises creating a harmony of lust.

The strokes started out at an excruciatingly slow pace; eventually Negan began to pick up speed, the head of his cock crashing against your cervix. You weren’t sure how much of this you could take, though your moans fully took you over, carrying out throughout the room.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, “I know it feels good, being stuffed with cock all nice and full. How about you cum for me, can you do that, darlin’?”

Almost at the very command, you tightened around his length, drawing out a groan from you husband while his cock bruised your cunt. The thrusts became harsher, striking in deep spots you couldn’t have imagined. Small cries fell past your lips: his name, pleads for more, pleads for him to use you as he saw fit.

“Damn, you’re just about fucked dumb, aren’t ya, sweetheart? Ain’t much else in there except wanting to be a cock sleeve,” Negan growled into your ear. “And might I say, you might just milk my cock for all its worth, the way you’re getting tight for me.”

Something taught in your abdomen snapped at his words, your pleasure erupting wildly around his cock. His thrusts remained as powerful as before, fucking you senselessly through your orgasm. You shook around him, arching your back as you fell quickly into another. The way his cock hit every inch of you sent shockwaves through your nerves, the climaxes hitting you in quick succession. Each time you fell apart for him, Negan seemed to unravel just as much, the only sounds in the room being the occasional growl from him, and the slapping of his skin against your drenched thighs.

Negan brought his mouth to your neck, mumuring sweet nothings until he reached your ear, whispering something that tightened your pussy around him yet again.

“I’ve got one rule, sweet thing,” he began, “I’m about to fill you up into next week, and I don’t want you to waste a single drop of it.”

You hoped that your body could do that. Not out of concern of a punishment, but in hopes to follow his every command perfectly. Negan’s thrusts became more erratic before he let out a rough grunt, his cock throbbing inside of your cunt as he spilled his warm load into you. You clenched around his length to keep his cum inside as he commanded.

“Attagirl,” he breathed heavily, “now, I’m gonna lift you up, and we’ll both watch all of the cum drip right outta you.” Your breath hitched at this, lifting your shaking hips up until his length left you feeling hollow. Warmth dripped past from pussy, to which Negan roughly opened up your legs further to give you both a good show. White ropes of cum dripped from you and onto his length, twitching against his abdomen.

“Now that’s a pretty sight. Look at how much you took, babydoll,” he praised, bringing a finger to your slick, bringing a shudder from you on your sensitive clit.

“You’re far prettier with my cum spilling outta you. All nice and filled up.”

Your breaths remained heavy as you watched the amount that leaked from your folds, over his fingers and onto his palm.

“Say, we should make a day of this,” he proposed. You looked at him in slight confusion while he slipped a finger into your soaked pussy, curling inside of you to strike your g-spot.

“I want… to set aside a day, just the two of us, for somethin’ special.” Negan pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, “I want to see how much of me you can take in a day. We’ll see just how much cum this pussy can hold.”

The idea shattered you around him, clenching around his fingers as your orgasm soaked his hands.

“Oh, you like the idea of that.” He questioned, “What do you say, wanna be a cock sleeve for a day?”

You dumbly nodded, to which Negan smiled.

“Don’t you worry. This was just a practice round.”

Thank you all for reading! I definitely have plans to expand upon this, so be prepared.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Are you willing to write a kingdom of heaven fic where the reader has a child from a previous marriage that ended when her previous husband died. A girl like 6-8 years old who is shy at first

♡ New Family - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon, thank you for your request! This is such a cute idea, so sorry its taken so long to get to. I hope it's what you had in mind! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Mention of Death, Mention of Domestic Violence (Not Baldwin dw), Nightmares/PTSD, Mention of Trauma.

It was a warm spring day when y/n and Baldwin were wed.

Their marriage was one of preference instead of arrangement after the two had met at the Jerusalem market.

Y/n ran a silk stand with her daughter, Miriam, when the king had decided to attend the market himself one day instead of sending a servant. He had been feeling well lately and wanted to take the opportunity to get some fresh air.

When their eyes met, it was love at first sight. There was no denying it.

However, there was one small problem. Y/n was a widow. Her husband had died in battle and as much of an inconvenience as it was, she couldn't help herself but feel slightly relieved.

He was a cruel man, a harsh man who believed in discipline for both wives and children. So needless to say, y/n couldn't help herself but feel relieved when she received news of his death.

But because of this, it was expected that she would not be married again and for a time, she had no issue with this. That was until she met Baldwin.

At first, she thought of herself as ridiculous when he had come by her stall. He was the king! And she was a widowed peasant who already had a daughter. It was simply not possible she had thought, until a servant came by her stall with an invite to the castle sent directly by the king.

Their love bloomed from there and despite being frowned upon, they were wed.

Y/n’s daughter was a naturally shy girl. The first time she had met Baldwin, she hid behind her mother and peeked out at the man from behind her robes.

His metal mask was less of the issue when it came to her fear (even though it did make him look far less human to her), it was more the past with her father.

At only seven years of age, she had experienced so much which was a great pain to her mother.

When they first met, the king gifted her a small carved, wooden horse as a present. She loved it and even approached him to take it from his gloved hand.

She was still nervous around him in the beginning, but she began to enjoy the benefits of becoming royalty. She loved the teachers who taught her all kinds of things that a peasant would simply not have the resources to know and she enjoyed playing with her cousin, Baldwin V.

She thought it funny that he had the same name as her step father and looked up to him as a big brother and he protected her as such.

Miriam’s nervousness around the king ended in just one night when her mother was away on royal duties overnight.

------------------

It was late at night when the girl’s eyes snapped open and she came awake, sweating and shaking.

She was prone to nightmares from the incidents with her late father.

Usually, Miriam would run to the royal chambers and call for her mother, who was a vastly light sleeper due to her own trauma. She would comfort her and bring her back to her own chambers. Y/n would read her a story and hold her until she fell back into sleep, but this time she was not there to do that.

The girl sat up in bed, her heart racing. All she could think about was her mother. She knew she was not going to fall back into sleep easily and would most likely lay awake in bed, with the fear of her fathers undead spirit returning and harming her.

Then she remembered Baldwin.

She was incredibly nervous approaching him about the subject.

It was late at night as she assumed he would be sleeping, she caught herself wondering if he slept in the mask or not. After a few minutes of thinking, a small noise made her practically jump out of her skin and she sprinted to the royal chambers.

Stopping outside the door she realized that her body had made the decision for her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door as quietly as she could and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

Inside she was greeted by a comforting warmth and the distant sound of the king's quiet snoring. Taking another deep inhale, she focused on her footsteps as she approached the bed.

Her heart was pounding.

What if he was angry at her for waking him? What if he told her to get over it? No, he would not do that. He was a kind man, a gentle man. The opposite of her father.

He had told her the day they met that “if you ever need anything, I am here when you are ready”, and she really needed him now.

Finally, she reached the side of his bed.

The moonlight that shone through the window illuminated his face that was covered in.. bandages? His cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin were all covered with clean, white bandages. That explains the mask.

Seeing him like this took her nerves away instantly.

He looked entirely human without his mask. Without it, he was just a man. A human, like herself.

He had soft curly blonde hair that spread out on his white pillow like the halo of an angel, this was completely different to the harsh, rough textured brown hair of her father.

He lay on his back with one hand resting on his chest, the plush blankets covered his body and he looked quite comfortable.

Miriam observed him for a moment longer as she decided whether to wake him or not. Finally, she made up her mind.

Reaching out an arm, she touched his shoulder softly. His night clothes were just as soft as she imagined them to be. She pulled her hand back quickly when he shifted.

Baldwin groaned and stretched as his body awoke from a deep sleep. He turned his head, fully expecting Tibarias to be standing there with important news as he had done countless times before.

His eyes widened at the sight of Miriam standing beside his bed, her cheeks stained with tears.

“Miriam, are you okay? What happened?” suddenly realizing the absence of his mask, the king panicked and reached to his bedside table for it.

“No, don't! I like your face without it” the girl said urgently. Baldwin smiled slightly at that.

“That's okay. Are you alright? What are you doing here?” she was surprised at his concern for her over his concern for being woken in the dead of night.

“I had a nightmare” she whispered. Baldwin’s face turned from one of slight panic to one of sorrow and concern.

“Oh angel, it will be okay. Come on, let's get you back to bed and you can tell me about it if you would like?” he offered, she nodded quickly.

Baldwin sat up from the bed, desperately attempting to keep his face free from a pained expression as he stood slowly.

-------------------

Once back in the girl's chambers, the king tucked her in and sat down on the edge of the her bed.

“Would you like to tell me about this nightmare of yours?” he asked, his voice was so kind.

Miriam nodded and began to tell him all about the recurring nightmares that she had been having since she was five years old.

The nightmare consisted of her father returning from beyond the grave to kill her mother and eventually her, after he forced her to watch her mother be torn appart.

The king listened to her words intently as she spoke.

“That sounds awful Miriam, I am so sorry” he told her, a look of sincerity on his bandaged face. She thanked him and gave a weak smile.

“Would you like me to read to you until you fall asleep?” he asked, returning the smile.

The girl nodded, her eyes lighting up at the words.

Baldwin walked to her bookshelf and retrieved a short story book that he recognised from his own childhood.

He sat down on the edge of the bed when Miriam spoke, “could you sit here?” she asked, gesturing to the space right beside her, against the headboard of the bed.

The king smiled at the innocent request and shifted positions to where he was sitting right next to her.

She moved closer to him, leaning against the side of his body.

Baldwin tried his best not to smile, it was the first time she had requested his affection. This was a massive step in their relationship.

“Could you stay with me the whole night, father? I don't want to be alone” she whispered, causing the young man's smile to widen.

“Yes of course Miriam'' he replied, relishing for a moment in the fact that she called him ‘father’.

Baldwin moved his arm and placed it around her, pulling her close as he began to read.

---------------

Around twenty minutes past when the king looked down to see that she had fallen asleep against his side, her eyes were shut peacefully and her chest moved up and down silently.

The smile returned to his face at the sight, before he moved his hand to cover a soft yawn.

The king gave his daughter one last look before letting his eyes fall shut, joining her in sleep once again.

---------------

The following morning, y/n arrived home early. The sun had only just started to peek above the horizon when she entered the castle.

Entering the royal chambers, she expected to see her husband sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. But he was not there?

Placing her bags down, she assumed he must have left to attend his duties early.

Y/n decided to check on her daughter, since she missed her greatly overnight.

She entered the room and a wide smile crossed her face at the sight before her. Baldwin and Miriam curled up against each other, sleeping soundly as the first rays of sun streamed in through the window.

She walked up to her daughter's bedside, pulling the covers further over the two.

This certainly was the progress that she hoped would happen while she was away.

Y/n bent down and kissed her husband's forehead gently.

“Im so proud of you” she whispered to him before turning to leave her beautiful family in peaceful rest.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Absolutely Ravishing, Darling

pairing: nikolai lantsov x wife!reader

genre: fluff

el's thoughts: requested by @bxm-1012 its super short, but i think its cute! hope yall enjoy!

“I agree wholeheartedly.” Nikolai nodded confidently with his words as his eyes followed the movement of the emerald green dress that hugged Y/N’s figure. She stood to the side of the ballroom talking with some of the councilmen’s wives as they all seemingly waited for their husbands to be back at their sides. 

A cough caught Nikolai’s attention again. “Sorry, Your Highness. You agree that my mother passed away?”

The young king tried to choke down the heat that crawled up his neck in embarrassment. “I only meant to,” he cleared his throat. “Convey my understanding of the situation.”

The older men chuckled to themselves at the obvious fact that they no longer had his attention. “I think we can save the rest of our conversations for a proper meeting. Do you agree?”

Nikolai nodded, his eyes still trained on the side of Y/N’s face. “Wholeheartedly. Enjoy the party, councilmen.”

He smiled to himself at the sound of his wife’s laughter as he approached her side. He reached for her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her gloved knuckles. Turning his attention to the other women around them he cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I must take her to the dance floor now.”

They all giggled and nodded, two pushing Y/N gently closer to follow Nikolai. 

The young couple glided onto the dance floor, Nikolai wrapping his arm around her waist while she wrapped one arm around his neck and the other hand laid in his. She smiled softly at her husband and laid her head on his shoulder. “How was your conversation with the councilmen?”

He smiled into her hair at her thoughtfulness. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“I could tell,” she laughed. “I felt your eyes on me the whole time. Events like this you can’t be paying me too much attention, Koyla. You need to socialize and be… king-ly?”

“King-ly?” He laughed.

She huffed, “I said what I said.”

“Well, it’s hard to stay focused when you look absolutely ravishing, darling.” He reveled in the fact that he could still make her blush with nothing but a simple compliment.

“Thank you, Koyla.”

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Andromeda -

Roboute Guilliman x M!OC (Finch)

Tags: Arranged marriage, AU shenanigans, crossdressing and gender fuckery

Plot bunny AU set during 30k, Great Crusade era after the Fall of the Eldar but before the Horus Heresy, I was stewing about how they would interact before becoming tired old men. Guilliman is more confident/self-important, and Finch is more insecure. Very much inspired by @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond drawing 30k and 40k Guilliman side by side, as well as some wives of the Primarchs content. Big thanks to @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read. Pls help unmedicated ADHD is cooking my braincells

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

Guilliman resisted the urge to glance around, but he knew that the voice— soft, sonorous, masculine— came from his new “bride”, the pile of gauzy fabric sitting beside him as revelry surrounded them. “You could have bargained for a better deal, you know.” It was the first time his new fiancee had decided to speak, most of the talking and the offering having been done by her (their?) father while the veiled figure had sat silent and stately on one of the mounts favored by the humans on the surface of this planet.

Lounging at the head of a table hosting a great feast for his legion, the chatter seemed to dim to Guilliman’s ears as this strange little secret unfurled before him, his focus drawn away from the impromptu celebration of his engagement to the xenos beside him. “There was no blood shed, no ammunition used, and I have returned another world to the Imperium. Enlighten me.”

“As in, you could have asked to see more selection.” Amongst the countless layers of bone white silk, accented with cold blue like winter fog and studded with dark rubies, a pair of delicate gloved hands folded upon the table. “My people may be licking their wounds, but they are ever prideful. Did you not think to appraise your sacrifice?”

Sacrifice. The concept of a defeated enemy offering tributes was not a foreign one, but the easy and almost dry acknowledgement was odd and discomforting. His crusade was a righteous one, he was not some drake resting upon its horde. “Theoretical: the Imperium wishes for me to find a wife, while accepting the offer of a bride may appear to snub other allies. Practical: this is an opportunity that has dropped right into my lap.”

“That was on purpose.” His fiancee sighed.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Guilliman’s voice was casual, but made it obvious that his question was not to be ignored.

“That your desires were foreseen, and my Craftworld has retreated with only a single casualty. It is as if you have been offered cuts of meat, accepting sweet fat hiding bones rather than sinew hiding flesh.” A white gloved finger trailed the rim of a fine porcelain dish before it, food untouched and veil unmoved.

Jaw ticking, the Primarch was not exactly pleased by the prospect of having been manipulated, his thoughts and motives sifted through by xenos he had fought quite regularly in the Emperor’s name. “Why say anything, my dear? Depreciating your own value isn’t quite the strategy I would employ.”

To his surprise, the figure sighed. Defeat. “...My role has been played. If you decide to kill me, there is little difference in the outcome the Farseer sought. Besides, you didn’t seem to be all that interested in my value before.” They listlessly waved a hand, almost mocking.

Guilliman hadn’t been raised with an absence of women in his life, unlike what he had discovered of many of his brothers. Tarasha Euten was one of his most trusted advisors and loved ones, and he held no illusions of masculine superiority. However, he had found that he couldn’t quite picture marriage to a woman. 

His enthusiastic legion had been delighted by the prospect of their genesire having a wife at his side, but somehow the xenos had seen and exploited a disinterest he thought he hid so well. That they had known he wouldn’t concern himself with a bride beyond appeasing the Emperor and choosing with only a political goal in mind.

“Who are you, then?”

“Not a princess, that’s for certain.” His bride scoffed. “We have no monarchy... I’m an artisan.”

That would have been amusing if it didn’t fill him with silent irritation. Such a flimsy lie, one that his new fiancee seemed almost eager to tear through like tissue paper. “A ploy to make their gift seem more enticing?”

“One of many to appeal to your human customs. The white garb is another, as is the veil. The one escorting me was a Seer, but apparently the father of a bride is charged with giving her away at the altar.” Not a drake upon its horde. Suddenly the phrasing of giving a bride at an altar brought to mind more myths of young women being left to be eaten by monsters from his youth on Macragge, making him internally shudder.

“I suppose your true father might have had objections.” Guilliman mused.

“Maybe.” They muttered dismissively. No family, a flippant attitude to the prospect of being executed for their betters’ deception, and a sense of honesty that felt like a slap to the face. Not to mention the fact he was having some suspicions as to certain details that were hidden behind those many layers of fabric. 

What was this feeling? Pity, perhaps? Intrigue? If nothing else he was curious.

“...I have little use for beauty, there would be no harm in showing your face.”

“That’s good, as I have none.” A soft laugh, like the chime of a bell, inexplicably warming him far more than any of the alcohol he had consumed alongside the feast. Guilliman’s bride searched for the hem of their veil, delicately resting the fabric upon their fingertips as they seemed to become bashful, turning to face him. “Just, ah… I assure you I have been genuine, and… I hope you are too.”

It took him a moment to recognize that his bride was holding their veil for him to lift, making his hearts jump strangely, torn between unwrapping them to uncover the mysteries hidden within the fabric and a desire to reveal them slowly like opening a gift. He felt as if this was a sight he wished to save for himself, rather than share with the rest of his legion.

Cautious, Guilliman bent down and carefully slipped his hands beneath the obscuring fabric, lifting it as he leaned in to study the face of the Eldar he’d been speaking to. 

One cheek was marred by a pockmarked array of scars, extending back over a ruined ear, a series of rough splits undoubtedly caused by blunt force to the side of the head. A gently sloped nose and sharp jaw, full mousy brown brows and freckles from time in the sun. Most arrestingly were his eyes. A deep viridian green flecked with sage, sharp and discerning, glittering with intelligence and… resignation. 

“…The Farseer hoped I would accept my place if I found a mate… she said it would make me happy.” A bitter little smile thinned his lips, looking ashamed as if this was a true admittance, rather than another deception to punch through. 

The Eldar seemed to expect him to respond, perhaps admonishing the fact that the gender of his bride was unsuitable for a man of his station. The thought crossed his mind briefly, the will of the Emperor ever on his heels, but fascination was leading him on. He claimed to lack beauty, but the story and wit he found on the Eldar’s face drew him in like the sublime expanse of the galaxy. With a hand he realized was large enough to splay across his fiancée’s entire face, he gingerly reached out to brush fingertips over the scarring on his cheek. 

“Uh, I seized and had a fall early in my training…” He muttered by way of explanation, dark eyes flitting to avoid Guilliman’s gaze, obviously bewildered. 

”Worried about battle scars with someone at the head of a legion.” The Primarch teased. “What would you like me to call you?”

The Eldar flushed, pursing his lips. “The envoy told you my given name.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“…Finch. Consider me to be… your future left hand man.”

[roseytheangel]

Hello everyone and welcome to the first fic of Christmas!!

All of 1-A were in the dorms, the bowl full with names. Excitement on everyone’s faces with wide smiles.

Everyone took a name, few groans and few confused looks around the table whilst bakugou gave a side eye to the greenette who had an always optimistic look.

He sighed and stood up. A scoff escaping as he got to the door to his room to start looking for something to give/make.

—

Izuku sighed and started heading to the shops with shoto and iida to get gifts.

“What do you think momo would would like?” Shoto asked bluntly before staring in confusion at the two who just stared in shock.

“You- you do know you’re not supposed to SAY WHO it is..?” Iida admonished with a sigh of disbelief, izuku biting back a laugh as he wandered around before pausing at the perfect item.

—-

“Ok so everyone has their gifts?” Mina said quickly as she clapped in excitement, looking around the room and grinning at the nods she got. “Perfect!”

As everyone got their gifts the chaos ensued, cheers, smiles and grateful thanks dances in the air as talk and chatter joined. Nobody noticing katsuki sitting next to izuku before staring at him.

“Oi loser.. I want to.. ugh..” he groaned before chucking a green and orange box at izuku and standing up to go and leave.

Izuku paused and flinched before catching the box and starting to open the box, almost dropping it as he stared at the gift in excitement, a new pair of gloves and an all might pin. He sighed and grinned, “thanks kacchan!” He yelled after the blonde before getting up to follow him and hand him his gift.

Katsuki paused to turn around and wait for his gift, his scowl softening to a curious huff as he stared at him. “Well? Spit it out nerd.”

He handed him a small box and a note that bakugou quickly opened- not that he was excited for the gift or anything! That’s stupidly dumb.

He stared at the gift, a picture of him and izuku when they were younger with a note of,

-

“hey kacchan, sorry I couldn’t think of anything else to make you. I hope this is good!

Lots of love izuku!!”

-

Katsuki gave a hum as he stared at the photo, a smile escaping as well as a tear.

——-

Hope you enjoyed gimme ideas for more pleaseeee cause I love doing this!

Credit:

@curses-by-crane-wives-rules

[artificialstardust]

Puck You

Hockey Player!Nick Folio x Reader

WARNINGS: hockey fights, backshots, oral (f receiving), creampie, biting, drinking, missionary, excessive use of “good girl” and “fuck”, possessive Folio

You were sitting in lower bowl waiting for the game to start. Your boyfriend Nick was a forward for the Pittsburgh Penguins. They had just finished up warmups so it’d be another 15 minutes before they went back on the ice. Tonight they were playing the Carolina Hurricanes, a rival for them.

Nick had told you earlier in the day that if Sebastian Aho said one small remark during the game, he was beating his ass. You’re holding him to it knowing that he most likely will. It happens pretty well every time they play the Canes. Aho never knew how to keep his mouth shut. Within time, the boys came out and lined up for the opening and for puck-drop.

The first period went relatively smoothly. The score being 1-1 and just slightly chippy from both teams. The second period being 3-1 ____. The Canes weren’t too happy about it either. Their boys getting visibly frustrated when they played even though there was still another period left. You could see Aho starting to say some shit to the guys as well. Throwing some more shoves than the first period.

The third period was definitely the most eventful. The score being 4-2 at the ten minute mark. Aho and Nick’s lines were both out again. You could see the two yelling at each other during plays. Nick was keeping his cool the best he could, until Aho checked Guentzel into the boards pretty hard. As soon as he did, Nick had both gloves flung off and had him by the shoulder pads, gripping him by the collar. Before Aho could even get his gloves off, Nick had landed a solid hit to his cheekbone. It didn’t take but a second for Aho to get his gloves off and throw one back at him. Nick had always been pretty good at avoiding most hits towards him, Aho only being able to land a couple. Nick had managed to land a few more solid hits before Aho was on the ice. Nick skated off towards the penalty box, his cheek being split a little. His helmet was off at this point, in his hand from where he picked it up. He threw his head back and then pushed his hair back out of his face, absolutely soaked from sweat. You could tell he was still fuming. He slammed the door closed behind him, both players receiving a two minute minor for roughing.

After that, the period stayed chippy, but ended with the Pens winning 5-2. You left your seat and went to where the families could meet with the players and talked with the other hockey wives and girlfriends. Eventually the guys started walking out. Nick walked up to you, wearing the suit he walked in wearing. He pulled you into a hug and buried his face into your neck. “The son of a bitch wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. Before he thew Guentzel into the boards he started making remarks about you” he mumbled. “You know he was only saying it to get to you babe, it’s okay” you told him, wanting him to calm down. He shot you a look, silently telling you that you’d talk about it at home.

The drive home was pretty quiet. You held his hand, trying to give him comforting touches. You got home and he unlocked the front door, holding it open for you. The two of you walked inside and he couldn’t help but smirk at seeing his last name on the back of your jersey. He closed and locked the door after he walked inside, kicking his shoes off by the door. He shrugged off his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his white button up to his elbows. “Go on upstairs for me baby, I’ll be there in a second” he tells you gently, pulling you in and kissing your temple. You hum in response, kicking your shoes off and then going to your bedroom.

He walked into the kitchen, getting himself some ibuprofen to help with the dull throb from the cut on his cheek. Then he grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of whiskey. With the glass in hand, he headed to the bedroom. By the time he made it, you had taken your pants off. You were in the attached bathroom taking your makeup off, still wearing the jersey. He walked up behind you, setting his whisky on the counter, then wrapping his arms around you. “Love seeing my name on this jersey. Another way to make sure people know your mine” he mumbles, pressing lazy kisses to your neck.

You smiled at his words and actions. “So what exactly did Aho say to you?” You asked, wanting to know. He exhaled heavily before speaking, “fucker was saying that he could take you away from me. Saying that he could fuck you better, love you better. I tried to not do anything so he would think I wasn’t bothered by it, but then he threw my boy into the boards and that’s what did it for me. So I put his ass in his place” he said lowly. You were stunned a little bit by the fact that Aho thought it was okay for him to say that during a game of all places.

You turned around in his arms, hands coming up to cup his face. You noticed the broken skin, feeling slight relief that the trainers cleaned it up a bit. “Baby, you are the only one I want. Aho is a fucking bitch that likes to run his mouth.” He smiled at your words, looking down. He looked back up at you and kissed you softly. He picked you up my the thighs, setting you on the counter. He leaned around you and grabbed his whisky, taking a drink before holding it up to your lips. You took a drink, the liquid burning down your throat, warming you up instantly. He took it back and finished the rest of the glass. His eyes darkening as he looked back down at you. “Even after you saying that, I still think you need reminded as to who owns this cute little pussy of yours sweetheart” he grumbles against your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses.

He picked you up by the thighs again, carrying you to bed. He laid you down, taking his time to kiss on you. He pushes the jersey up, seeing that you already took your bra off. He didn’t think too much of it because he knows you like to sleep the jersey from time to time. He grins to himself, then leans down to swipe his tongue over your nipple. His hand moving to grope your other breast. Fingers rolling the hardened nipple between them. He nips and sucks on the underside of your breast, drawing whines out from you. He switches sides and does the same to the other. Before he pulls off, he bites gently at your nipple, drawing a small cry from you.

He sits back on his heels then looks at you, his hands on the waistband of your panties. “Can I take these off baby?” He asks. He’d always been adamant about asking to take them off, even when you told him he could just do it. You nodded your head, replying a verbal yes to him, Nick pulls them off, putting them in the pocket of his slacks. He puts his hand on your inner knee, spreading your legs gently. A blush spreading across your cheeks as he stares at your pussy, licking his lips. He leans down, pressing kisses up your inner thighs, taking his time, teasing you. “So wet from me princess. You look so fucking pretty from this angle” he smirks at you, blowing air gently at your exposed cunt. The action makes you whimper, trying to close your legs a little. He holds them open and then presses a kiss to your clit. He ghosts his lips over it, looking up at you, then licks a stripe up your pussy, sucking on your clit after as he catches it in his mouth. A light moan comes from you. “Jesus Nick” you breathe out, your head laying back against the pillow, enjoying the moment. Your hand moves to rest in his hair. You can feel him smile against you, he brings his hand up, tracing his fingers around your opening, then sinking a finger inside. A groan coming from your lips from the feeling. He licks at your clit while playing with you, watching your reactions. Your grip getting slightly tighter on his hair. He adds a second finger, doing a ‘come here’ motion with them, trying to work you towards your orgasm.

Moans from the back of your throat come from you, your hips starting to move to meet his movements. “Gettin’ close for me baby? Gonna cum on my face?” He teases, already knowing the answer. You nod quickly “uh huh” you choke out. He sucks on your clit a little harder, pushing his tongue onto it repeatedly to add a little more pressure. “Cmon baby, cum for me. Give it to me, wanna taste you” he groans against you. You do as he instructs, you pull his hair and press your head back into the pillows. Your thighs clench around his head as you cum, strings of moans coming from you. “That’s it, good girl. Good fucking girl for me” he says lowly against you, tongue fucking you through your orgasm.

After the waves pass, he pulls off of you, wiping your cum off his mouth on his arm. He leans up to you and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls away, letting you take his shirt off. He gets up off the bed and tugs his slacks and boxers off, then crawls back onto you. He rests his weight on you, letting you feel his cock against your stomach.

“M’gonna be so fuckin deep baby” he leans up a little bit. He puts his thumb to right above where his tip rests on you “see baby? So deep in that pretty little cunt” he mumbles against your lower neck.

You whimper as he speaks. “Nicky please, I want it” you mumble against the side of his head. He pulls back and ghosts his lips over yours, teasing you. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you baby?” He says lowly. You whine and nod your head. He grabs his dick, lining it up with you. He taps it against you, then sinks in slowly. Both of you sharing a moaning at the feeling. He gives you slow, deep thrusts, wanting you to feel every inch of him. One hand on your waist, the other against the headboard to hold himself up. “Fuck you’re perfect. Like god made you just for me” he groans, his head falling forward. His hair falling in his face.

Your hands move to grab his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He moans into the kiss, loving the attention. “Harder Nicky, please” you beg slightly. “Yeah?” He asks, starting to fuck you harder “want me to rough you up a bit?” His thrusts are hard and deep now, his tip hitting the spot you love. “Fuck, god yes” you moan out. Your eyes closing, head leaning further into the pillows. He leans down and starts to nip and bite at your neck. The hand that rested on your waist moving to hike your leg up over his hip, holding it there.

The new angle causes you to moan louder, your pussy fluttering against him. You move your hand down to play with your clit, your mouth gaping open at the added stimulation. “He could never fuck you like this. I’m the only one that can make you feel good. You’re mine. This pussy, in mine” he eventuates his last words with harder thrusts, causing you to moan louder. “Just you Nick, only you” you breath out.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. Before you even have time to whine about feeling empty, he’s filling you back up again. Fucking you how he wants to. His thrusts are desperate, hard and fast. The jersey falling to gather around your waist. He places his hand between your shoulder blades and pushes your chest down to the bed. He then wraps on arm around your waist to play with your clit, the other holding your hip, pulling you back into him. He watches as your ass ripples with each thrust. He’s drinking in the sounds of your moans and whines, getting drunk off of them.

“God you look so pretty like this. Fucked out look on your face, my jersey on you, my cock deep inside of you. Wish I could see it everyday baby” he groans. He brings his hand off your hip and lands a smack against your ass, gripping onto it. You start fucking yourself back onto him “m’so close baby” you say. “Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock like the good girl you are princess? Give it to me, lemme feel it” he groans. Almost instantly, you grip the sheets in your hands, fucking yourself back against him more as your orgasm takes over you. Whines and moans rip from your chest. “Fuck Nicky, oh my god” you cry out. Nick moans as he feels you clamp down onto him. He fucks you through your orgasm, then puts both hands on your hips, fucking you roughly, chasing his orgasm. “God baby, where do you want me?” He asks. His breathing becoming labored. “Inside baby. Want you to fill me up” you moan out. As soon as you say the word, his chest is pressed against your back as he gives a few sloppy thrusts, cumming deep inside of you. He’s whining in your ear, working himself through it.

He stays there for a few minutes, catching his breath. He leans up, pushing his hair out of his face, then watches as he pulls out, groaning when he sees his cum leak out of you. He gives your ass another smack, grabbing onto it. “God I’ll never get tired of seeing that” he chuckles to himself.

He gets off the bed and tells you he’ll be right back. He comes back after a few minutes with a couple bottles of water, some snacks, and a warm washcloth. He helps you to lay on your back, then cleans you up. He hands you the water, already having the cap off of it for you. He kisses your forehead then goes and grabs a fresh pair of panties for you, helping you put them on. He cleans himself off, then pulls on a pair of sweats. “Doing okay baby? Is there anything else you want?” He asks, wanting to make sure his girl is good. “Yeah baby, I’m okay. I would love if you came back to bed though” you smile at him. A grin forms on his face and he crawls back into bed with you. You move to cuddle up to him, laying on his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another loving kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, Aho could never do that shit” you laugh. He leans his head back and groans then laughs with you. “Jesus, enough about that bitch” he jokes, then tilts your chin up to kiss you. “You know I love you right?” He asks against your lips. “The most.”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Gone. (Ghost x OC) - AU!!!

for @xxshadowbabexx 's angst competition using prompts 1, 2, 6 and 9.

pairing: F!OC! Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley bonus: Moot!OC (Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley) x Johnny "Soap MacTavish words: 3.7k~ summary: An AU where Ghost died with Soap, leaving behind Whiskey and Meabh who are grieving for them :) cw: death and dying, loss, grief, blood, vomiting, crying, ghosts

At first, it was cold. Dark. The feeling of the blood seeping down his skin and pooling on the floor behind him. 

The air was thin, he couldn’t breathe, his chest heaving, sounds of grunts and gunshots echoing around him.

His head lulled to the side, long enough to catch the sight of Soap. He was already unmoving. 

Then, his eyes slowly unfocused.

Not the first time he felt it.

But the last time, whatever powers that be decided to spare him.

Not this time.

Then came the feeling of nothing. No pain, no coldness, no… nothing. No air in his lungs, no saliva in his mouth, no weight on his joints. 

He opened his eyes and he was still here… and his body was, well… there. He looked down at it. A sorry sight, really, to see his body on the floor, the blood around his head, mingling with Soap’s next to him.

Soap was standing by his side. They could see each other, half-translucent, not quite there, but not quite gone. Neither of them seemed confused or lost… Only mildly resigned to the fact that This Is It. 

Gaz and Price succeeded in disarming the tunnel bomb and Ghost turned slowly, looking at them as they approached the two bodies, Price’s voice announcing: “All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralised, bomb is safe… Two K.I.A.”

…

Soap and Ghost stood over Price’s shoulder, eyes locked on his own front door. Gaz stood beside him, both men looking solemn, Price holding Ghost’s dog tags.

It was just past 3 A.M., he’d noticed, when Whiskey opened the door, wrapped in one of her silk-like robes, the hall light illuminating her from behind.

She locked eyes with Price before he could even speak and her jaw clenched tight, her eyebrows rising lightly. 

He knew that look. He knew it all to well. It was the same way she had looked when she told him about her father and brother.  He knew the others could tell too, of course, but what they couldn’t tell, were the subtleties of it. 

To him, she looked like she was about to cry, even if her tears were nowhere to be seen, and the swallowing of a lump stuck in her throat, which was, in reality, a scream she wanted to let out… And how, once they were gone, she’d cry herself until her throat was raw.

He wanted to hug her, fuck, he wanted nothing more than to hug her. To pull her tight into his chest, to murmur into the crown of her head that he’s here, that he’ll always be here. But he couldn’t. Not today. Not ever again.

“Don’t.” Whiskey said as she raised a hand to stop Price from speaking the same moment he opened his mouth. He knew better than to try to use the bullshit prepared speech they always give to grieving wives. She wasn’t just a grieving wife. She was a soldier.

“Give me the dog tags.” She demanded and presented her palm. He slowly set the round disks and chain in her hand. She, slowly, rubbed her thumb over them as she looked at them, Simon noticed how her skin traced his surname tenderly.

“I don’t want a big fuss. It’s not what he would have wanted.” She told Price and raised her eyes to meet his again. Had Simon been alive, he would’ve felt his heart swell in his chest, she really did know him so well… 

Price nodded at her in understanding. “I know.” He told her in earnest.

“Do whatever you need to do… I don’t want to attend a funeral. Just bring me back his ashes and his mask and gloves.” She demanded.

“Okay. Should take a few days.” Price assured her with another curt nod. 

“That’s fine.” Whiskey nodded at him and, slowly, she slipped her husband’s dog tags around her neck, the longer chain meaning they disappeared below the collar of her t-shirt. One of his, actually, full black, with the scraggly name of a metal rock band on the front.

“Soap?” She asked him as her beautiful hazel eyes returned to Price after fixing the chain. The man replied by shaking his head. “Give me a minute to get dressed and pack a bag. I’ll go with you.” She announced and turned around to disappear back inside their home.

-

Whiskey looked at him with a cocked brow as they laid tangled up, in her barrack’s bed.

“If something happens to me, I’d want you to get the widow’s pension.” Simon mused aloud as he stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah, same, it’d just make sense to-” Victoria began to say before she stopped herself and her head shot upwards, glaring into his eyes. “Are you proposing to me, Simon?” She asked him in shock.

That hadn’t been his intention. They had just been halfway through discussing what life would be like for the people around them, once they’re dead. But now that she mentioned it… “Yes.” He replied deadpan.

Victoria continued staring at him like he was insane, eyebrows scrunched, eyes narrowed… But then she simply answered an “Okay.”

“That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Simon asked her as he dipped his head to the side, looking at her through down his nose as her head rested on his chest again.

“No. Just caught me off-guard.” Victoria said with a shrug and a silent exhale of a laugh, shaking her head against his chest. Her ear was right on top of his left pec and she could hear his heartbeat, slow… steady.

Simon watched her lay against Meabh, staring at the ceiling, as Meabh slept against her, in the same position Simon and Victoria usually fit into, Meabh’s head on Victoria’s chest. Johnny sat on the edge of the bed next to Meabh, resting his ghostly hand on her head even though she couldn’t feel it. 

It had been a shit show, telling Meabh that Soap was gone… Messy. Messier than any of them had expected.

They had witnessed Meabh losing her mind, denying it over and over and over, shaking her head, not believing the words Price spoke, the way he tried to hand her his dog tags, the way the tears rolled down her face even with her smiling in disbelief. 

Victoria had risen up to take Meabh back to her room and let her cry it out, having shooed Price and Gaz away… then, in her room, Meabh screamed at God, pleaded for Soap’s return, bargained and begged, tried reasoning with God that He couldn’t take him, not before she had a chance to tell him she was pregnant…

Victoria struggled to wrangle her into bed, both falling to their knees, Whiskey clutching her tight to her chest, as Meabh screamed and cried, doubled over herself, making herself look so small for a woman that was usually so strong. Soap had cried with her, fallen to his knees beside her, and tried telling her he was right here… not that it made a difference.

Only the two of the women and their ghosts remained.

Meabh had another one, Simon had noticed. A curly-haired man lurked and loomed outside her window. Soap hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with his woman’s grief and the recent discovery of the baby in her belly. He knew he was likely Meabh’s father. They looked alike. Same eyes, same hair, same facial structure… But he kept away for now.

Victoria was awake, eyes locked on the ceiling as she held Meabh close, the sun shining in, at 6 A.M., but Meabh had cried herself to sleep. Simon didn’t dare approach her, keeping to his namesake, and simply watching his wife from the sidelines, his lips pressed together.

He could see her clutching onto her emotions with an iron grip, her brows scrunched and her jaw clenched, teeth grinding loudly. She couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not when Meabh needed her most. 

-

The funeral had been beautiful. Mr and Mrs. MacTavish were too much of a wreck to plan anything, his sisters even more so… So it fell on Meabh. It would’ve either way, she was his wife, after all. 

It ended up being a beautiful celebration of Johnny and his life. Sharing stories of him, food and drink, and music… Full of fun and happiness and light, just how he deserved. It was an Irish tradition, Victoria came to find out. 

The American had only left Meabh’s house after a week by her side, having traded spots with one of Soap’s sisters. She went home for a day, just needing a break. Three days' worth of celebrations plus four extra ones dealing with a grieving Meabh and a large family such as Soap’s had taken a toll on her. Simon went with her.

She crossed the threshold into their home quietly, not even bothering to turn on any of the lights in her wake. Then, she tossed her duffel bag aside, kicked off her sneakers, and pressed herself into the wall right past the living room door, sinking down to the hardwood floor.

Even in the darkness, he could tell she was crying. The way her breath hitched and her silhouette trembled against the wall. She cried like that for a long, long while.

Then, the tears got harder, faster, her breath rose and rose in volume, desperate for gulps of air, like she was suffocating and unable to breathe and she started openly sobbing, letting out these primal sounds of grief from the back of her throat.

Simon’s eyes welled up with tears too as the screams coming from her throat scratched at his dead heart. He wanted so badly to hold her… He wanted to. He wanted to. She cried and cried and he couldn’t do much more than kneel beside her.

He watched as she curled herself onto her hands and knees and screamed raggedly in pure and absolute pain, like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest. He had. Her heart had been his, and he had taken it with him when he died.

Primal, painful shrieks came from her mouth, so deep and loud that her whole form shook… or maybe it was the hiccups from the lack of air and the lump in her throat. He couldn’t tell. She banged a fist on the floor in front of her, once and twice and three times, until her hand hurt, until the external pain countered the grief. It didn’t.

Victoria ran herself ragged while she cried over Simon, crying so much and screaming bloody murder until her throat was raw and red, until her voice went hoarse and her throat hurt and her stomach churned…

And then she vomited, hurling whatever food Mrs. MacTavish had made for dinner that day onto the hardwood floors, then cried some more, hiccuping and trembling as she looked at the mess of her vomit on the floor through tear-filled eyes.

Simon’s sat beside her as she pulled herself back against the wall, breathing desperate, greedy gulps of air, feet parted and planted on either side of the puke puddle, as she wiped her mouth clean with the back of her right hand and then hung her head down, resting her forearms limply on her knees.

“God damn you, Simon Michael Riley…” She spoke in a whine, her voice hoarse and shaky, too broken to speak properly. “You can’t save me and then leave me here to bleed… What am I supposed to do without you?”

Simon leaned against her, pressing his bare lips against her temple, hoping, praying to a God he doesn’t even believe in, that she can feel it, can feel him… That Victoria gets some sort of realization that he’s not gone, not really… That he’ll spend a lifetime by her side, waiting for her time to come.

-

Victoria spent the next couple of days at home, having texted Meabh some excuse about wanting to be home to receive Simon’s ashes from Price, who was going to deliver them soon.

Meanwhile, she simply went about cleaning their house. They had had plenty of fresh produce, fruit, and meat in the fridge, which had spoiled after a week away. He watched her, like always, make herself feel better by deep cleaning the entire home.

He hovered over her shoulder the whole time, wishing he could just reach out with a firm hand on her shoulder like he usually did, making her turn around, hugging her tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head… But he couldn’t. So, instead, he just hovered… watching her as she went about it all.

It was only after she was done cleaning, after she showered, after she took some melatonin gummies and passed out on the couch on day two, clutching his dog tags tight in her fist, along with her brother’s and father’s, that he heard it.

“She’ll be alright.” A manly southern-American-accented voice reverberated from behind him. 

Simon turned slowly, coming face to face with an older man with short black hair, greying stubble, and intense, stern blue eyes.

“Are you-” Simon began.

“Owen Callahan, son.” The man introduced himself with a light, lazy salute. Simon returned it without even thinking about it.

“Worst possible way I can think of to meet my father-in-law.” Simon muttered sarcastically.

Owen’s eyebrows raised and he smirked a bit. “Can’t kill you again, son, so don’t be scared.” He added.

“‘m not, sir.” Simon added and shook his head, watching his father-in-law’s ghost move about the room, coming to stand over Victoria, a hand caressing her head, much like he’d seen Johnny do to Meabh while she slept, and her dad, Seamus, as well… when John was too busy fussing about his mam and sisters at the funeral. He didn’t want to show himself to Johnny, Simon had noticed.

“Is her brother around? Nathan?” Simon asked and looked around himself, seeking out another ghost. 

“I’m here.” Nathan muttered as he fazed through the bedroom wall into the living room. He was a handsome young man. A crew cut worth of black hair, a shaggy stubble that extended down his jaw onto his neck, slender hazel eyes, and a notch cut into his left eyebrow.

“So… you two been here this whole time?” Simon asked as he looked at them, brows raised in confusion and surprise.

“Haunting her? Yeah.” Nathan replied as he came to stand by Simon’s side. He was a few inches shorter than him.

“So you’ve seen… everything?” Simon asked as he looked at them.

“If you mean you fuckin’ my daughter, no. We made sure to be far fuckin’ away from here when you two would get close to it.” Owen muttered crudely from next to Victoria.

“Ah-” Simon nodded a bit and scratched at the back of his neck, feeling, for once, a bit embarrassed. He could, strangely enough, feel at himself, just not others.

“Don’t get all coy now. Like I said, should be grateful I can’t kill ya again.” Owen added.

“I am, sir.” Simon nodded. 

“But, all things considered… she could’a married worse, dad.” Nathan muttered as he slid over to Victoria and sat at her feet, on the armrest of the couch.

“I know…” Owen grunted as he looked at her. Then, he looked at Simon. “You did her good. Ain’t seen her smile as much as I saw her with ya, since we passed.”

Simon nodded and looked away. He’d never been good at this. Taking praise and compliments. Socializing. “Thank you, sir.”

-

On day three, she was awoken by a knock on the door. She was still in the clothes she had changed into last night. Not pajamas, but rather a pair of black leggings and one of Simon’s t-shirts. 

Simon followed after her, like a lost puppy, constantly wanting to stay around her. Nathan and Owen remaining lounging about in the sitting room. They had more experience and no longer followed her so desperately… other than when she went into battle.

Price and Gaz stood on the other side of the door. Price held a non-descript matte black ceramic urn. Gaz, next to him, held Ghost’s balaclava and gloves, as well as a few of his throwing knives.

Victoria took the mask, gloves and knives first, looking at them closely and taking a deep breath before she set them in a shelf inside the coat closet. Then, she turned to Price and looked at the urn closely.

Her hands shook as she took the urn into her hands, feeling the weight of it. So much of Simon had been condensed into ashes inside a small pot that could be confused for a decorative jar if one wasn’t paying attention.

“Thank you.” She told them with a nod as she carefully wrapped a hand around the urn and clutched it to her chest protectively like it was a baby, and not just her husband’s ashes.

Price gave her a look and then looked down at the urn. She seemed to pick up on the sign he gave her, and returned the look with a barely-there nod.

“Do you need anything?” Gaz asked her softly, politely, caringly. “Food? Company?”

Price was still silent, however. He knew better than to offer. He might not have known Victoria as well as Simon and Meabh, but he knew enough.

“No, thanks,” Victoria said as she nodded at them. “I’m fine.” She lied and forced herself to smile a bit.

“Are you su-” Gaz was about to ask but got struck to silence by a sharp elbow to his side, from Price.

“We have things to do, Gaz. Gotta get back to base.” Price said, cutting him off.

“But si-” Gaz attempted again, instead, simply earning a glare from the man.

“We have things to do, Gaz.” Price repeated sharply. Then, he turned to look at Victoria again. “Will be expecting you to report to base on Monday.” Price told her, knowing she’d want to work through her grief. Just like Simon would.

“Copy that.” She nodded, then, the two men stepped back, and she closed the door in their faces, walking her urn back to the couch and carefully setting it atop the coffee table.

Simon was hot on her tail and sat beside her on the couch, peering over at her with a tentative glance. He could tell she was on the verge of breaking down again, now that she had Him home.

Nathan and Owen were gone. They tended to do that, sometimes. Disappearing.

She took a deep breath and popped open the lid, peering inside the urn. The ashes were inside a ziplock bag inside, as usual… But, atop of them, rested a small black velvet box. She pulled it out of the urn and onto her lap, then, slowly, opened it.

Inside, nestled in a foam pad, rested two rough-looking wedding bands. Made of gold but full of marks and scuffs… and with a dark grey piece of rough stone on the center, where one would expect to see a precious gem.

Simon wanted to hide away in shame when he saw them, groaning loudly, glad she couldn’t hear him. Of course Price would go and find his failed metal-work creations and give them to her.

Simon had spent the last year in a metal working class, trying to make them a proper set of wedding bands. They had gotten married without one, instead using their dog tags during the vow exchange, and then had never bothered buying some, because Victoria thought they were stupid, and it’s not like they could wear them out in the field…

But Simon wanted to give her something. He wanted her to surprise her! Wanted to make her all kinds of gold jewelry because he knew how much she loved to wear it when they were on leave… He just had to get good at it first! But he didn’t. 

These rings were the most recent pair he tried to make, gold and meteorite stone, which, one day, he’d hope to substitute with an actual precious gem, once he got good enough, once the rings were smooth and sleek.

He just wasn’t good at it no matter how many times he practiced. They were still rough and uneven and her wedding band was twisted and strange… He just wasn’t made for making beautiful things… But he was willing to try… for her.

And yet, as she looked at them now, clutched in her hand, tears streamed down her face… All Victoria could think was how beautiful the rings were. “Fuck…” She grunted through her teeth. She slowly grabbed her ring and rolled it between her fingers, feeling the rough texture of it with her fingertips… 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Simon…” She murmured as she looked up at the urn, almost like she was looking at him, unaware that his ghost was right there, beside her, wanting nothing more than to wipe her tears and hold her hand.

Simon slid away from the couch and sat across from her on the coffee table, parking himself over his ashes, wanting to feel like she was looking at him… even if she couldn’t see him. “How long did ya keep these a secret? I wish you would’ve told me you were making ‘em…”

“I’m just fuckin’ unlucky, ain’t I?” She muttered to herself as she kept gazing upon her ring. “You ain’t that lucky either, are ya?”  She asked, soft tears rolling down her cheeks, sniffling away the tears, batting her eyelashes to try and contain them. It was unsuccessful.

“You couldn’t tell me you were making these… I couldn’t tell you ‘I love you’...” She trailed off as she looked at him, smiling sadly as more tears ran down her face, her lips scrunching up to stop a hiccup and a sob.

“It just wasn’t in the cards for us, huh? Never is… for people like us, ain’t that right?” She asked him, looking right at him, but not seeing him. “It was never gonna end with us (retiring) together, was it?”

Simon reached out and placed a hand over her cheek, unable to do anything more than hold her like he had so many times before, muttering a reply that she wouldn’t hear: “I love you too, Victoria. You’ll see me again.”

the rings in question:

@crashtestbunny better see some tears bestie