#Armory Week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chuluoyi · 2 months

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

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randomdragonfires · 3 months

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Parallel Lines, Act I

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | He fears her proximity, and she fears his distance. As war looms, they’ll have to learn to make their marriage work to find comfort in each other.

Or at least, try.

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Complicated Relationship Themes; Emotional Negligence; Infidelity; Major Character Death; Aemond and his issues are a warning on their own ok?

AUTHOR’S NOTE | All Valyrian lines were translated from english using a free online translator. They are likely to be grammatically wrong - but I don’t even know man. Yeah.

WORD COUNT | 9.5k - and not a single word is beta read. We die like warriors, I guess?

The moonlight spilled through the series of windows of her husband’s - not theirs, his - apartments in the Red Keep, casting a silvery glow over the austere elegance of the chambers. His wife stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the backdrop of the night sky, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across the dimly lit interior, taking in the cool, stone walls that seemed to absorb the flickering torchlight. She glided through the hall where intricate tapestries depicted dragons in flight, their scales shimmering with threads of gold and silver. The grand fireplace dominated one wall, the warmth emanating throughout the space from the burning logs within. She folded her arms into her chest, as if to preserve the heat as she shivered from the cold night - her thin nightdress didn’t help. Above the mantelpiece, Vhagar's fierce eyes followed her every movement, a fierce presence in paint.

Moving through the chambers, she passed through his personal library, every page a stern reflection of his interests. Shelves of dark, polished wood lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, their faint scent of aged parchment and leather permeating the air.

He mostly smelled of smoke, fire and leather. Of books and dragons - both of which he is passionate about.

It makes sense then, that no one will ever catch a whiff of her perfume on him.

They were far from passionate, after all.

In the center, his heavy, ornately carved desk was strewn with maps and documents, a well-used quill and inkwell ready for his expert hand to wield. She leaned on the table to look at it all, and spun one of the wooden markers between her nimble fingers for a moment - as she had seen him do countless times - before leaving it back where she found it.

She stepped into the bedchamber, its stark stone walls softened by the rich, crimson fabrics of the large, canopied bed. Dragons were subtly woven into the bedspread and curtains, a constant reminder of the Targaryen lineage that she had married and given birth to.

How long has it been since she laid with him on this bed? More than a year, she surmised. They did their duty on their wedding night, and the Mother was graceful enough to make his seed quicken in her immediately. She laid with him for a few weeks after - and when the maesters made it known that she was with child, that had stopped.

A good wife knows how to keep her husband satisfied, they said. Her husband never sought her out. If the whispers of the few around her were to be believed, he frequents a whore in a Silk Street brothel.

Was she not a good wife then?

She gave him a son. He may be sickly, but he is a son nonetheless. Surely it must count?

With a weary sigh, her eyes shifted to the adjoining armory, where Aemond’s armor and weapons were meticulously displayed. This part of his room exuded an air of readiness, a silent promise of the warrior who would soon return to his space.

From the whorehouse, no doubt.

She turned back to the window, her thoughts as fluid as the shimmering waves below. The apartments were a microcosm of her husband's existence: regal yet austere, scholarly yet martial.

And no sign of marriage, leave alone happy or healthy. How could there be, when he doesn’t feel half the happiness with her that he does when left alone with his beast or books?

There was no hate between them, surely not. Her husband was agreeable, but that was that. There was never any doubt in her mind that he did not want her - or the idea of her - but had to marry her anyway. There was no passion, and she could count with two hands the number of times they have lain with each other in the past year that they have been married - even that was before she had become with child.

There was nothing, truly.

She tried with him, initially. But any illusion of interest that she thought he may grow towards her was shattered the moment she heard that the very night that she’d met him, he was seen moving out of the castle grounds and into the Street of Silk.

He didn’t even bother with making it discreet.

Their wedding was a morose affair. They were the very picture of a royal couple, but neither felt the part - more like a pair of chastised children made to listen after a screaming bout. Even when he took her, he took her from behind - and she was fully clothed. It was nowhere close to the slow exploration that some of her ladies promised. He’s a scholar, he’d be willing to learn for your pleasure, they had said. He’d not even kissed her after their wedding ceremony, not once - he simply demanded that she get on the bed, and took her like an animal while the Small Council and their families watched her eyes pool with painful tears.

What had she done to warrant such embarrassment? She didn’t know what she’d done to make him shirk her so, but it was the way it was. It just was.

When he kept calling her back, he’d taken to offering her wine when they were finished. She didn’t linger when her goblet was emptied. She simply walked out, and wished him a good night.

He never once asked her to stay.

When the news of the babe in her belly had arrived, she’d been relieved - she’d never have to lay with a man who did not want her, ever again. He didn’t seem overjoyed either, and simply hummed with a hand on her belly.

“There is blood of the dragon in you now,” he said. And then he let his thumb run over her cheek. It was the softest he’d ever been with her, and she relished those few seconds. For a moment, he looked so peaceful and content… a stranger. That’s when it occurred to her that perhaps there’s more to Aemond than what he lets anyone see.

She could have fallen in love with him, if he’d cared enough to show her. But it seemed that he’d only viewed her as a duty and a burden.

The ghost of his touch lingered, and she brought her own hand to her cheek as though the warmth still remained. What did the whores have that she did not? Or was it the same whore each time?

Jealousy is unbecoming of a princess, she reminded herself. But so is unhappiness and a constant sense of dread, surely?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open. Her husband strode into the room, immediately aware of her presence. She felt the shift in the air and watched as the shadows of his boots slow, absorbing the sight of her. He removed his cloak with a fluid motion, letting it fall onto his chair before approaching her with the deliberate grace of a predator.

“Wife.” His voice was clipped and devoid of warmth, as though addressing a servant rather than the mother of his son.

She turned to face him, the pale moonlight highlighting the tension etched across her features. "Husband," she responded, mirroring his tone, though a flicker of hurt glimmers in her eyes.

Do you think of me as I think of you? Do you think of me at all?

A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Her gaze scanned his face, searching for any trace of the man whom she foolishly once thought would love her. Instead, she found only the cold mask he wore, a fortress against the world and his own buried emotions.

Against her.

“Has the council kept you long?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. They both looked outside the windows, with her leaning into the railing while he stood with his hands held back, ramrod straight.

Always on guard.

“Long enough,” he replied, his eyes drifting to the dark expanse of the bay. “There are matters that require my attention.”

“And our son?” she asked, a touch of warmth infusing her words at the mention of their child. “Will you see Aerys tonight?”

For a brief moment, something softened in Aemond’s gaze, a fleeting shadow of tenderness. She must have imagined it - it was too fleeting and quick to hold any kind of weight.

She was jealous of her own son, for he elicits more from Aemond than she ever has, as little as it is.

“Perhaps. If time allows.”

She nodded, turning back to look at him; to see him.

The weight of his indifference settled over her like a shroud. The Blackwater Bay stretches out before them, vast and unchanging, mirroring the growing distance between them.

“I worry for you,” she murmured, her voice almost swallowed by the night. “War will come to us soon, will it not?” If it hadn’t come so far, she knew it would now. Vaemond Velaryon’s rolling head and King Viserys’ worsening condition only made sure of it.

He stood rigid beside her, his posture unyielding. “It is my duty,” he said, as if that alone suffices.

“I know,” she replied, sadness threading through her voice. “But you are more than your duty, Aemond. You are Aerys’ father and my…”

The emotions were high tonight, higher than they’d ever been. She didn’t know why she sought him out. There has been ample evidence to support that he would not care, and yet here she was.

She wanted safety, and the only person she could approach is the one who has never made her feel welcome or safe in any capacity.

Who else do I have here?

The tears mangle her vision and she swallowed what threatened to follow.

“I have given you a son.” She trembled, her voice threatening to give way to s stream of tears. “The shadow of war looms upon us, and you’ve set me aside and I worry…”

He lifted his head just slightly as the words sank in, but she was too dejected to care about his acknowledgement. He may be cold, and his reactions to her come far and few in between - but she could not bring herself to mull over it too at the moment.

“War is coming. I am as certain of it as I am of the sun rising on the morrow and I know you are too -” He opened his mouth to interfere, but she was quick to not give him the gap to take over her speech. “Do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise.”

“I was not.”

She turned to face him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her eyes as she wondered why the Gods had not seen fit to give her a husband who loved her. He was beautiful, a cruel irony that made her anger flare even more. Despite all the hurt he had caused, she could not help but feel drawn to him. To hide her tears, she looked to the floor, trembling as she forced out her next words.

“I know you do not love me. I know you do not want me. But I… I have given you a son. An heir to continue your legacy, and that… I like to think that it would be reason enough to ask you to not forsake me. We have not supported each other all this time, but the least you can do is assure me that you will keep us safe.”

A flicker of something unrecognizable flashed in his eye, and he turned to face her fully, leaning against the window arch. “Did you… truly think that I would leave you to die if it came down to it?”

“You haven’t given me reason to believe that you’ll want me around.” Her voice was bitter, dripping with contempt.

He was ethereal as he reached out, holding her jaw between his thumb and finger, bringing her closer to his porcelain skin and alabaster hair. Her gaze flitted about chaotically, struggling to meet his eye. Her body shivered from the cold, torn between wanting him to let her go and needing him to hold her tight.

“You are my wife. I swore to the Gods that I would honor and protect you. You and Aerys are my family, and I would be slain a hundred times over before I see either of you hurt. I may not be… I may not be the man you want, but I can assure you that I am an honorable husband who will safeguard you and our boy.”

She did not know what she expected. A declaration of hidden love? Certainly not. But somehow, his assurances fell short. “Honorable.” She tested the word on her tongue, finding it the most bitter sound she had ever uttered. Her cheek alarmed him, and she spat venom. “Honorable?” His grip on her chin tightened, and she took it as a sign to continue.

“I know you frequent the Silk Street brothels. I know you’ve been going there since the very first day we met. Unless the professions of whores have changed, it is safe to assume that you are not honorable or loyal. And if you are, it is certainly not to me.”

A whore out there enjoyed her husband’s undying devotion, while she sat in the castle hoping and praying he would recognize her, let alone love her.

His expression shifted, a storm brewing behind his eyes, but he did not release her. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a chasm of pain pulling them apart. She met his intense gaze finally, tears brimming in her eyes, the anguish of their fractured bond laid bare for him to see.

He tasted of smoke and fire, and yet her mouth craved him anyway. He was an eternity away from her—always, always—and yet her fingers yearned to touch him.

“I do not go there for…” He took a long breath before completing his sentence, almost as if he needed his composure to simply survive.

Not there for what? Was he not fucking the whores? What else could he possibly do?

“Do you think I do not know the sacrifices you have made?” His voice was a harsh whisper, a mixture of anger and something deeper, almost pleading. “Do you think I do not feel the weight of our shared duty, the responsibility to our son? My responsibility to you?”

“But you have never shown me,” she whispered back, her voice breaking. “You have never given me a reason to believe that you care, that you see me as more than just a broodmare for an heir!"

For a moment, they stood frozen, the distance between them both physical and emotional. The moonlight casted a cold glow over their figures, highlighting the stark contrast between their proximity and their separation.

“It is not easy for me.”

“It should not be hard to love your wife. Or at the very least respect her.”

“I—”

She brought her hand up to stop him before any more of his lies spewed out and stepped away from him. She walked to the door at an amazing speed, her skirts swishing past as she tried to get out before her tears spilled out. In a late change of heart though, as her hand rested on the door latch, she turned.

“No lady should beg her husband to love her. No matter if he is a prince. It is beneath her, and I am no different. I will not beg…” If she had looked at him properly, she’d have noticed him flinch at her damning words.

“I will not beg you to love me after dismissing me all this time; I do have my pride. But I will beg you to save my life if it needs saving. That is all I ask.”

“You never had to ask.”

She took a breath and drank some leftover wine in the goblet next to her, not caring for whose it originally was. The thought would make her retch usually, but she was beyond caring.

“Your mother… she loves me surely, but I think she doesn’t like me very much. Your sister and I never managed to understand each other. Your brother… well he is a mindless lecher. I can’t quite figure out your grandfather at all. And you… you know what we’re like. I just… I worry that in this impending war within kin, I will be forgotten and left to die simply because my job is done with the birth of my son and I am too close to the storm and you don’t care and I don’t want to die. I don’t want anyone to die-”

“You are my kin.” he said. It made her smile, albeit a woeful one. “You may need to remind me every once in a while.”

He didn’t respond. She simply left.

And even now, he didn’t ask her to stay.

She wished he did.

Aemond stood by the hearth, cradling their feverish son in his arms.

Dressed in his somber blacks, he looked every bit the stern warrior, yet the gentle way he held Aerys belied that image. The babe was flushed and fretful, his tiny hands gripping Aemond’s hair and tugging insistently. Aemond hissed softly at the sharp pull, but did not dislodge the child's grip.

“Byka zaldrīzes,” he grumbles. It is strict, but not unaffectionate - she was familiar with that tone. She’d watched him use it with their son often when he thought no one was looking. [Little dragon.]

From the doorway, she watched them. They looked like a loving family - the devoted mother standing watch, her eyes filled with affection as she observed her husband and son. But appearances were deceiving, and both of them knew the truth beneath the surface.

Aerys, in his restless state, grabbed at Aemond’s eyepatch, tugging it down and exposing the scarred, empty socket. Aemond’s expression tightened as he shifted the boy from one arm to the other, quickly adjusting the patch back into place. In that brief moment, their eyes met, and she glimpsed the vulnerability he so meticulously hid. He seemed to close himself off even more, as if shielding his heart from her gaze.

It was a deep, almost dark blue. She noticed, she always noticed.

“I came to check on him before luncheon,” she said softly, breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy shroud. She always ensured that she made a solitary routine of her visits, ensuring that he’d have time alone with her son like he seemed to want. To be together - as a family - stumped her beyond belief, no matter how second nature it should be.

What was he doing here?

Aemond nodded, his voice measured as he recounted the maester's instructions. “The maester believes he will grow healthy with time. We must be diligent with the poultices and draughts.” His tone was clinical, as if discussing a strategy for battle rather than the wellbeing of their son.

She watched as he laid Aerys gently in the cot, the child’s feverish grip slackening as he drifted into a fitful sleep. She approached, brushing a strand of hair from Aerys’s forehead, her touch tender and light.

Aemond stepped back, retreating to the armchair close to the cot where a goblet of wine awaited him. He took a long sip, his gaze fixed on her as she sat at his foot, and peered in to take a look at their son. Facing away from him, she began to sing softly. Her voice, though tinged with sorrow, was soothing, and Aemond’s stern expression softened as he watched the scene unfold. For a moment, the room was filled with a fragile peace.

The Seven Gods who made us all,

are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

She didn’t say anything and let the silence engulf them both when she finished her song. She then turned around and sat on the floor near his feet, her back leaned against her son’s cot as she looked up to face her stoic husband. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke - his words measured but with the intent of concern. He spoke them like he was testing them out on his tongue.

“The maesters… they say you’re being given herbs as well.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of her exhaustion in every fiber of her being. The birth had been horribly hard on her body, leaving her depleted and fragile. Only now was she beginning to regain her strength. The whispers of the servants echoed in her mind—comments about how all this suffering was for a sickly child. But those whispers meant nothing to her. She would move the ends of the earth for her son, no matter what anyone thought.

He was the blood of the dragon. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and she would not allow her son to be any different.

“Ever since the birth, I have grown… weak,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aerys took a toll on me when he came.”

Aemond’s eyes were detached, but she heard the slight concern and contemplation in his voice. “Were you in pain? In the days after?”

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden show of concern. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I was. I still am.”

His questions were gentle, as if he truly cared, as if he genuinely wanted to understand what she had gone through. This unexpected tenderness from him was jarring, and it took all her strength not to withdraw. She had longed for this moment for so long, the chance to finally, truly connect with the man she had married.

And now that it was here, it felt as foreign to her as the other continents of the realm.

“I should have been there,” he said, his voice laced with regret. He didn’t look at her, head turned away as he spoke. “I should have been by you-”

She’d heard the rumors that her good mother worked hard to ensure she’d never hear. While she labored and went through all the Seven Hells giving birth to their son, Aemond was at a whorehouse, doing Gods know what.

She shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I don’t want to know,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “I’d rather choose blissful ignorance than a painful truth. Especially when it comes to you.”

Aemond nodded slowly, regality exuding from him even in his slightest movements. “I have failed you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. He did not apologize, and she knew that he never would. This was the most she would get from him, and for now, it had to be enough.

It didn’t mean that it shocked her any less.

Summoning her remaining strength, she stood and moved toward him. She leaned forward, resting her hands on the armrests of his chair, bringing herself closer to him. The curve of her breasts nearly brushed his chin, and she could feel his breath, warm and shallow, on her skin. His goblet of wine lay forgotten on a nearby desk, the contents slowly going tepid.

He looked up at her, surprise and something deeper flickering in his eye. His expression was a mixture of pain and longing, as if he too yearned for what she did. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he moved his hand and covered hers with his. His touch was tentative, as if he feared she might pull away. But she held firm, her fingers entwining with his.

He was warm to the touch. She remembered that much from the first days of their marriage, but it felt better to be reminded of it this way. Almost as though he was tender towards her, like they never spent any time being purposefully apart from each other.

She felt like they were getting somewhere, a tentative bridge forming between their fractured hearts. Carried away by the newfound closeness, she hesitated only for a moment before reaching out, her hand trembling as it neared his face. Her fingers were delicate, soft against the rough texture of his skin as she traced the scar that marred his otherwise perfect visage.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing at the intimate touch. She moved slowly, her fingers gliding over the jagged lines. Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if she could heal his old wounds with her tenderness.

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. Instead, she saw vulnerability, a crack in his formidable armor that allowed her a glimpse of the man beneath the warrior’s facade. His eye, the one not covered by the patch, was wide and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name - something between longing and fear.

With a gentle caress, her finger traced the path of the scar down to his cheekbone, lingering there for a moment before moving toward the eyepatch. She felt his breath warm against her hand, the rise and fall of his chest quickening as her fingers danced over the leather. The eyepatch was cool and rough under her touch, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his skin.

She paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the tension coiling in him. Would he push her away? Would he retreat back into the cold distance that had defined their relationship for so long? But he remained still, his gaze fixed on hers, a silent permission in his eyes.

Encouraged by his silence, she allowed her fingers to explore the edges of the eyepatch, feeling the worn leather against her skin. Her thumb brushed over the strap that held it in place, her touch gentle and soothing. He shivered, a barely perceptible tremor that ran through him, and she felt a surge of something warm and hopeful rise within her.

His reaction was slow, almost imperceptible. He closed his eye briefly, as if savoring the sensation, then opened it to meet her gaze again. She could see the conflict within him, the struggle between the desire to protect himself and the yearning for this rare moment of intimacy.

She moved closer, her body almost pressing against his as she continued her exploration. The curve of her breasts brushed against his chin, and she felt the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles. Her fingers lingered on the eyepatch, tracing the lines where it met his skin, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her touch. His hand reached up, covering hers. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, tender silence.

“Will you let me see?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

His hesitance and silence said more than his words ever could.

The moment stretched, taut and fragile, until it seemed to snap under the weight of unspoken fears. She saw the flicker of rejection in his eye, a retreat behind the barriers he had so carefully constructed. Her face fell, the light of hope dimming as she realized she had pushed too far. But she understood; perhaps he needed more time. Withdrawing her hand, she felt the ghost of his touch linger on her skin, a burning reminder of the closeness they had almost shared.

He grasped her wrist gently, as if he wanted to ask her to stay, but the words remained unspoken. She did not want to stay unless he wholeheartedly asked her to. His grip was firm, yet she felt the reluctance in it, the silent struggle to decide whether to hold on and let go.

“I should go,” she said softly, gathering her skirts. “Your mother and sister await me at luncheon, and it would be unseemly to be late.”

He watched her walk away, her steps slow and measured, each one pulling her further from the fragile connection they had started to form. Left alone with his son, Aemond felt the weight of his failure press down on him, a cold, heavy burden that settled in his chest.

Aerys slept in the cot nearby, his tiny body trembling with each breath as if the sickness that plagued him might take him at any moment. Aemond moved his chair closer to the cot, peering down at the infant with a mixture of fear and determination. The soft tufts of silver hair marked him as undoubtedly his, a tiny mirror of his own lineage.

How many nights had she spent alone, watching over him like this? Scared that if she stepped away, Aerys may be gone?

In a quiet tone that would otherwise go unheard, he whispered to his son, his voice thick with emotion. “Ao kostagon’t tepagon bē va īlva, riñnykeā.” [You can’t give up on us, child.] After a moment of composure, he continued. “Ziry braved vīlībāzma naejot tepagon ao naejot issa. Gaomagon daor henujagon zȳhon.” [She braved battle to give you to me. Do not leave her.]

Aemond's voice trembled, the words almost breaking under the weight of his desperation. He held his son closer, cradling the tiny, fragile body against his chest. He thought of his wife's strength, the pain she had endured, and winced at the realization of how badly he had treated her. His neglect, his coldness - they had all but shattered her.

He had done enough to her. The last thing he wanted was to see her lose Aerys too.

The dim light of the chamber cast soft shadows on Aemond's face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrowed brow etched deep with worry. His eye, normally a piercing blue, now seemed almost muted, dulled by the depth of his concern. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on his son’s chest, feeling the weak but steady rise and fall of his breaths. Aerys stirred slightly, his tiny fingers curling around a strand of Aemond’s hair. The grip was weak, but determined.

“You are the blood of the dragon,” he continued, his voice a fierce whisper. “You will grow strong.”

The Dragonpit was packed, the air heavy with the murmurs of the gathered smallfolk and the flickering light of countless torches. She stood beside Aemond, her posture as straight and regal as she could manage, her heart pounding in her chest. The spectacle of Aegon's coronation was unfolding before her eyes, a momentous event that would shape the future of the Targaryen family.

Hers.

The ceremony began with the Grand Maester stepping forward, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror held reverently in his hands. The weight of history seemed to press down on the room, making every breath feel heavy, every movement deliberate. Aegon - looking more like a squabbling, crying child than a King - ascended the steps to the dais, his face a mask of acceptance.

And when her husband nodded to his new King, she bowed deep.

She watched as Aegon’s expression shifted from indifference to a flicker of recognition of the power now bestowed upon him. The crowd erupted in cheers, their loyalty and fervor palpable, yet she felt a pang of unease amidst the celebration.

Beside her, Aemond stood tall and vigilant, his eye never leaving the proceedings. She glanced at him, seeking comfort in his composed demeanor, his presence a steady anchor in the sea of chaos. The noise of the crowd swelled, and she could feel the anticipation hanging thick in the air, a tangible force that seemed to wrap around them all.

Aegon, now crowned, raised Blackfyre high above his head, the ancient sword gleaming in the firelight. The sight was awe-inspiring, a symbol of power and legitimacy. Yet, beneath the grandeur, she sensed the underlying tensions and overheard the words that Helaena kept mumbling.

There is a beast beneath the boards.

Her feet shifted, and she heard the hollow sound that the ground made when her shoe met the surface. A hollow sound that comes when feet meets -

The boards.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, a low rumble that grew into a deafening roar. Gasps of shock and fear rippled through the crowd, and she instinctively reached for Aemond’s hand. Before she could react further, the floor of the Dragonpit exploded upward, sending debris and chaos flying in all directions.

Rhaenys, astride her dragon Meleys, emerged from the smoke and dust, her presence formidable and terrifying. The dragon’s scales shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its eyes blazing with fury. The people scattered, screams of panic filling the air as the beast roared, the sound reverberating through the hall and shaking her to her core.

Her heart raced, terror gripping her as she stared at the massive dragon, its wings spreading wide, casting a shadow over the entire chamber. Aemond’s hand tightened around hers, pulling her behind him protectively. She could feel his body tense, ready to shield her from any danger. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, a faint surge of gratitude washed through.

You never had to ask.

Meleys roared again, the sound like thunder, and the heat of its breath washed over them. She could see the flames flickering in the dragon's throat, the promise of destruction just a heartbeat away. Rhaenys, regal and unyielding, locked eyes with Alicent, a silent challenge passing between them.

Aemond stepped forward, his presence a wall of defiance and strength. “Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. She obeyed without hesitation, her body pressed close to his, drawing comfort from his unwavering resolve.

The dragon’s eyes fixed on them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic drumbeat in her ears, and the cold sweat on her palms. Every muscle in her body was taut with fear, and she kept her eyes firmly set to the ground.

This is how I die. Do you call it a dragonrider’s death when you don’t ride a dragon?

My son. AerysAerysAerys-

Aemond.

Rhaenys stared at them all, the weight of her decision hanging in the air. Meleys shifted, the ground trembling beneath its weight, and for a moment, it seemed as though the dragon would unleash its fury. But then, as if making a choice that defied all expectations, Rhaenys turned Meleys away, the dragon's wings beating powerfully as they ascended through the shattered roof of the Dragonpit.

The relief was overwhelming, a rush of emotions that left her weak at the knees. She clung to Aemond, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. The hall was filled with the sounds of weeping and the murmurs of disbelief, the aftermath of the encounter leaving everyone shaken.

Aemond’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern. She nodded, still trembling, her heart beginning to slow as the adrenaline ebbed away.

She did not notice how closely he held her when it came down to it - for the very first time.

Aemond's fingers dug into Sylvi's hips as he thrust into her from behind, each movement fierce and relentless. Her back arched under the pressure of his hand, pushing her down onto the bed. The room was filled with the raw sounds of their coupling, echoing off the walls.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with her moans. His grip tightened, nails biting into her flesh as he drove into her harder, seeking release in the violent act. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, an intoxicating mix that fueled his aggression. "Gods,” He growled, his voice a low, primal rumble. He watched as her body responded to each thrust, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed, the sheen of sweat on her skin glistening in the candlelight. She was a willing vessel for his frustrations, and he took her with a ferocity that bordered on madness.

Her moans turned into cries of pleasure, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her as she braced herself against his onslaught. He felt a dark satisfaction at the way he could bend her to his will, the power he wielded in these moments of raw, unbridled lust.

The climax came in a wave of intense pleasure, his body shuddering as he spilled into her. He collapsed over her, panting, his chest pressed against her back as he tried to catch his breath. The aftermath was a stark contrast to the ferocity of their coupling – a quiet, intimate moment where their bodies remained entwined, slick with sweat and the remnants of their shared passion.

Her arms wrapped around Aemond's naked body, her touch tender and soothing after their rough encounter. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from the sheets.

Aemond's breathing gradually slowed, his chest rising and falling against hers as he allowed himself to relax in her embrace. His mind, however, was anything but at ease. He thought back to the scene that had haunted him since he left his chambers earlier: his wife, cradling their son, her eyes red from crying, her body and mind still fragile from the ordeal of facing a dragon at Aegon’s coronation.

"She was crying before I left to come here," he began, his voice a low murmur against her neck. "Holding our son, so shocked by near-death.. It didn’t seem as terrifying to me, but... she was so scared. She's worried, you know. About the impending war."

The Madame’s fingers traced gentle circles on his back, encouraging him to continue. "She doesn't have dragonrider's blood," he went on, almost to himself. "I didn’t know how to comfort her. I want to help, but I don’t know how."

Her hands moved up to his shoulders, her touch grounding him. Her presence was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. He lowered his head to her chest, his lips finding her breast. He suckled softly, kneading the soft flesh, seeking solace in the familiar act.

Holding their son brought comfort to his wife, and for him, coming here to the Madame, was his escape. The warmth and intimacy they shared, however fleeting, was his way of coping with the weight of his responsibilities and the emotional distance between him and his wife. As he continued to be held, he couldn’t help but wonder if he and his wife would ever find this kind of comfort in each other; if he’d ever find the courage or the trust to truly tell her what he needs without worrying about losing her respect.

If he'd walked in and held her while she cried instead of leaving her to it and coming here, could he have made her feel safer?

Too many questions, not enough courage for answers. Too much pride and so little sense between them both.

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest as Vhagar soared through the stormy skies back to King's Landing. The cold wind bit at his face, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread gripping his heart.

He had killed Luke. His nephew, his blood.

The act had been unintended, a consequence of their reckless chase, but it was done. There would be no undoing it. If there hadn't been a war before, there certainly was now. The weight of his actions settled heavily upon him, more suffocating than the fiercest storm. As the familiar silhouette of the Red Keep came into view, a storm of emotions churned within him. Guilt, fear, and a desperate need for comfort twisted together, making his insides writhe.

He dismounted Vhagar with a heavy heart, his drenched form slipping through the darkened halls of the castle like a shadow. His mind raced, an entire host of thoughts battering against the walls of his consciousness. He needed solace, a place to hide from the storm he had created. The whorehouse crossed his mind briefly, a familiar escape, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough this time. He needed... he needed...

Before he knew it, his feet had taken him to her apartments.

Her. His wife.

He stood before the door, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open. His wife was readying for bed, her state of undress evident. She wore a robe over her shift, her hair loose around her shoulders. The soft light from the hearth bathed her in a gentle glow, as he took her in. She turned to him in shock, her eyes widening at the sight of him. It was clear how rare this occurrence was, how unexpected his presence was in her chambers. But she was quick to pull him in, taking in his drenched form with a worried expression.

"Husband, what has happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

He did not answer, his eyes trained on her as she moved. Her exposed skin drew his attention, and he found himself wondering.

Was she softer? Kinder? Would she hold him in her soft arms if he so wished? Did he deserve it from her? Would she shame him?

She kept asking, but he remained silent, his mind too chaotic to form coherent words. She moved to find him something to dry off with, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist in a death grip.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice raw and choked, barely more than a breath.

She looked up at him, her confusion gradually giving way to a quiet curiosity. He gently guided her arms around his cold and damp waist, his touch unexpectedly tender. This was not a whore; this was his wife. She deserved to be treated differently.

At first, she froze, her body tense and uncertain, but slowly, she let herself relax – at least as much as she could manage with a husband who had sought her out for the first time in a year.

He felt her hesitation and understood the significance of her yielding. The weight of his guilt pressed harder against his heart, but he clung to this moment of closeness, desperate for the comfort he so craved.

"What has happened, husband? Why are you here?" she asked softly, parts of her words muffled into his chest.

He remained silent, waiting to see what she would do. Her repeated questions slowly stopped, a resigned understanding settling in her gaze. In the silence, he became acutely aware of her form – soft, untouched by anyone but him, made for him. The thin layers of her robe and shift did little to keep his hands from exploring her.

His fingers trembled as they traced the curve of her spine, brushing against the delicate fabric of her robe. Every slight movement, every breath, every shiver she made became magnified in his mind. Her body responded to his touch with a delicate gasp, and he felt a surge of something he couldn't quite name – a need, a longing, a desperate desire for solace in her embrace.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, every intake of breath, every flinch and gasp. He noticed a stray hair that had fallen across her face, the way the delicate hairs on her skin raised at his touch, the way her eyes widened and then softened. Each detail etched itself into his mind, a stark contrast to the murder that had driven him here.

She tightened her arms around him, her touch gentle yet firm. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent – lilacs and something uniquely her that anchored him to this moment, to her. It was a comfort stronger than any he had ever received, yet calm and grounding at the same time.

His hands roamed her back, feeling the delicate curve of her waist, the slight tremor in her muscles as she responded to his touch. He pressed his lips to her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Her breath hitched, and he felt the vibration of her voice as she whispered his name, a question and a plea all at once.

"Aemond," she murmured, her voice breaking the silence. His body reacts in shivers and heat at the sound of his name upon her lips. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Had she ever said his name out loud before? He did not know. But he wanted to hear it again and again until the world as he knew it ended. Perhaps it was the guilt - over Luke, or over his neglect of his wife - he did not know. But it was all bubbling at the surface now, and he was much more open and vulnerable than he’d ever been.

He bent his head down, his eye locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze seemed to drown out the room, focusing solely on her. He could see the concern, the worry etched in her features, and it tore at him. He couldn't tell her, not yet. Not about the blood on his hands, the life he had taken, not why he was here and what he’d wanted.

But he could let her consume him, to forget. He could lose himself in her.

He felt the warmth of her skin, the softness of her curves against him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to forget the horrors of the night. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingers, memorizing every curve, every angle. Her skin was smooth and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, damp leathers clinging to him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers he couldn't give. Despite her confusion, the turmoil in his mind quieted, replaced by the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat. She was his anchor, his solace, and he clung to her like a lifeline in the storm.

Wordlessly, he moved back enough to get a good look at her, his eyes tracing her form with a reverence that made her pulse quicken. He then slowly untied the front of her robe, the silk falling away with a whisper. His hands fell to her shoulders, pausing there for a moment as he sighed. As he pushed the sleeves down, his hands traced the newly revealed skin - his fingers glided from her collarbone to her shoulders, down her arms, and finally to her fingers, which he intertwined with his own. The robe slipped to the floor, leaving her in a thin shift that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

His eyes remained locked on hers, the intensity of his gaze a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate need to be anchored by her presence. He took her trembling hands and placed them on his damp leathers, his touch firm but gentle, giving her silent permission—no, a quiet command—to undress him. His breath hitched slightly as he waited for her to take the lead.

She moved slowly, her fingers deftly working the buckles and straps, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he stood before her in only his trousers. Her hands hover over his chest, her touch hesitant, almost afraid, as if she's not sure she's allowed to touch him. His skin was warm under her fingertips, his heart pounding just beneath the surface.

His hands covered hers, guiding them lower, to the waistband of his trousers. His touch was both a plea and a command, silently asking, demanding, begging her to take this final barrier away. She did, her movements slow and deliberate, until he stood bare before her, exposed in every sense of the word.

She did not dare try to take off his eyepatch, not this time.

He watched her intently, noting every flinch, every gasp, every shiver that runs through her. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin, exploring every inch with a tenderness that speaks of his desperation for her. He needed this moment, her touch, to forget what he'd done to Luke, to drown the guilt that threatened to consume him. Every breath he took was a reminder of his failures, every brush of her skin against his a lifeline that pulled him back from the proverbial edge.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder - not her lips, he had not kissed her on the lips since their wedding ceremony. His hands roamed her body, mapped out the places that made her gasp, the spots that made her arch into him. He was attuned to her every reaction, his focus entirely on her.

All he asked for in return - with no words - is that she make him feel safe for this one night.

With his body bare and hers still clad in her shift, he silently gestured to her bed with a tilt of his head. She moved toward it, her movements graceful yet hesitant, and then crawled to the back, letting her spine rest against the headboard. He stood there for a moment, watching her, his breath uneven and his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

He did not miss the way she looked at him. Desire flickered in her eyes, growing with each second her gaze roved over his body. Her eyes widened when they settled on his manhood, and he could see the anticipation building within her. She expected him to take her tonight, he knew. He hadn't given any indication otherwise in the last few moments, and she had no clue what he actually wanted; or why.

Would she welcome him to her bed if she knew he was a kinslayer?

The thought gnawed at him, but he chose not to tell her. She might not offer her true acceptance, but he would take her false comfort tonight – even if she thought it true.

He moved to the side of the bed with all his characteristic grace. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. When he lifted his knee to place it on the plush mattress, she shifted to make space for him. He laid down beside her, his movements deliberate and slow, as if fearing she might vanish if he was too hasty. She mirrored his actions, and soon they were facing each other, their warm breaths mingling in the stillness of the room.

Their eyes locked, and he saw her questioning gaze. Her next words, soft and tentative, knocked the breath out of his lungs.

"Are you alright?"

For a moment, he couldn't answer, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and saw the worry etched in the lines of her face, the softness of her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for his response.

"I will be," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

Tentatively, he placed his hand on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shift. He slid the material up, his fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her leg.

"Gevie.” [Beautiful.]

His fingers continued their journey, moving to her inner thigh. Her legs shivered at his touch, and he smirked for a moment before he withdrew his hand and moved closer. Their bodies were now a hairsbreadth apart, the heat between them palpable.

His hands moved to her breasts, feeling their fullness beneath her shift. He was acutely aware of every breath she took, every flinch and gasp that escaped her lips. Each reaction to his touch drew him further into the present moment, away from the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him. Her body was a haven, a sanctuary where he could lose himself, if only for a while.

Encouraged by her soft gasps, he continued to knead the mounds of flesh and pinch her pert nipples, his touch gentle yet insistent through the shift. Lowering his head, he nestled himself at her bosom, inhaling deeply. The scent of lilacs and milk overtook him, and he let out a contented sigh.

"You are a mother... the mother of my heir," he murmured into her chest, his voice a mix of reverence and disbelief.

She said nothing, but when her initial shock faded, she began to comb her fingers through his soft hair, humming the same song she sang to their son to sleep. The melody was soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. He didn't know if her singing was to calm him or herself, but he found solace in the gentle rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took.

He took in the way her body trembled slightly beneath him, the softness of her skin, the rhythmic beating of her heart against his cheek. This was not the harsh, immediate and uncertain release he sought at the whorehouse.

This was more, more, more.

Sleep came to him easily in her arms, draped in her comfort; devoid of any nightmares, dreams, or heavy thoughts.

If she wondered why he'd simply laid with her rather than fuck her, she did not ask.

Would she welcome him again when she finds out what he did?

The council branded him a kinslayer when he told them what he'd done. He embraced it, staring into their eyes, defiant and unyielding. He told them he did it on purpose, each word a dagger thrown with precision. Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

Aegon patted his back, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "A job well done, drawing first blood in the King's name," he said, his voice a blend of admiration and malice. His grandfather's face remained a mask, revealing nothing. Criston was disappointed, his disapproval a heavy weight in the room. And his mother...

His mother was disgusted, her eyes filled with a sorrow he had never seen before. When he stepped out and walked through the corridors, the word had spread like wildfire.

Kinslayer.

The whispers followed him like a relentless shadow. Servants and maids stepped out of his way, their gazes avoiding his. The tension was palpable, a living thing that tightened the air around him. He wanted to escape them all, to flee to the skies where their judgment could not reach him. But before then, he wanted to see them.

He stood near the doorway as she had a few days prior, watching her rock their fitful, sick son to sleep. Her movements were gentle, contrasting all the shock, anger and brashness he’d seen since he stepped out of her room before she awoke. He wanted her to look at him, to see beyond the blood and the sin. He was asking too much of her, he knew that. They were strangers bound by duty, their recent shared moments brief and fraught with his own selfish needs for comfort.

His heart pounded as she finally met his gaze. He was not prepared for the slight fear in her eyes. It cut through him deeper than any sword ever could. She looked at him as if he were a creature she could not recognize.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed in his mind, a relentless chant that drowned out everything else. He took a step forward, his hands trembling. "I—" he began, but the words died in his throat. What could he say? How could he explain the unexplainable, justify the unforgivable? She held their son closer, her grip tightening protectively. The room was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what he had done and what it meant for them. His mind raced, filled with a cacophony of anger, regret, and despair.

The need to escape surged within him again. He wanted to flee to the skies, to find solace in the cold, indifferent clouds. But he couldn't move, couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of her fear-stricken eyes.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

With a heavy heart and a mind in turmoil, he turned and walked back into the shadowed corridors, each step echoing the relentless chant of his new title.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed through the empty halls, a reminder of the path he had chosen and the price he would pay.

If he’d told her last night as he laid in her arms, would she have understood?

He’d never know.

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pseudowho · 5 months

Text

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

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You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

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A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling him into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 7 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 8 ] || [ Chapter 10 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i think Ghost always steals Soap's hygiene products bc he cannot be arsed to buy some for himself.

Chapter 9: Drinks?

The moment the helo touched down, the soldiers descended, each of them parting ways as they went about their regular business, returning their gear to the armory, debriefing, showering, eating…

Almost a whole hour after their arrival, Simon threw himself down onto his bed, his skin dewy from the shower, his hair combed to the front and dripping over his face.

He popped open the top drawer of his nightstand and fished out his phone and charger. He set the charger up and turned on the phone as it charged up.

Simon didn’t often use his iPhone. Sometimes he forgot he even had it. The only times he did was to check Soap’s and Gaz’s insta/snap stories (because he liked being up to date on what they were doing) and when they were all on leave and had parted ways, so he could check the groupchat.

Once the phone turned on, he immediately beelined for Tinder and opened the app. The app lagged a bit at first but, open loading up, he saw it.

99+ likes, 99+ messages.

The big majority of them were girls, too young for him, thirsting for him, even with his face being hidden. He always knew he could attract people, so it didn’t exactly surprise him.

Rolling his eyes, he flicked his finger over the screen until he found your chat and clicked on it.

Simon: I’m back and in one piece. Simon: I think you need to wish me luck more often.

He didn’t expect you to answer him immediately, even if it was only 6 P.M. on a Tuesday and you’d likely be at home and free, considering the job you listed on your profile.

However, the Read notification popped up under his text almost immediately and your dm came right after without the app even announcing you were typing.

you: omg i was literally JUST checking to see if you had said anything you: welcome back!

The text made a smirk take over his scarred lips before he bit the bottom one and typed out a reply.

Simon: Have you been waiting to hear from me for 3 weeks? you: noooo Simon: That’s frankly adorable. Simon: Didn’t think I’d have gotten in your head that strongly. you: oh piss off simon. you: ur not that great. Simon: You’re still texting me. you: sooo???? Simon: So, I can’t be that terrible. Simon: Got your attention, didn’t I? you: oh piss off you: ur so cocky and for what Simon: Not cocky. Just sure of myself. you: no Simon. No? you: no 😤 Simon: Okay then. Simon: Suddenly not sure of myself because you deemed it so. Simon: I’m very insecure now. Simon: Is that better? you: stop being such a bloody smartass 🙄🙄🙄 Simon: You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Simon: I can’t take this. Simon: Going to go hug my pillow and cry some more. you: oh no you: i’m making the giant cry? 😱 Simon: Is that a dig at my height? you: YES Simon: My God, I’m going to cry even more. Simon: I’m being bullied. you: good!!! 😤 Simon: I’m making you pay for my therapy. you: pay for it yourself!!!! 🙄 Simon: How about I pay for dinner for the two of us one of these days instead?

You didn’t answer immediately after that. You always did that whenever he flirted with you and spoke about taking you out.

Simon had a shit-eating grin on his face, imagining that you were all annoyed at him behind the screen. He was right in guessing you were shy about going out, he assumed.

you: no. you: but you can buy me a drink tonight.

His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised just a bit.

Simon: It’s a Tuesday night, are you sure? Simon: You know going out for drinks on a Tuesday is usually a sign of alcoholism? you: ur backing out now? you: wheres all that bravado of yours? Simon: Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not backing out, I’m asking if you’re sure. you: if i wasnt i wouldnt have invited you. Simon: Fair enough. Simon: Where? you: the same pub i met up with john at maybe? Simon: Rog. Simon: 30 minutes. you: i need longer to get ready. Simon: That’s fine. I’ll still be there in 30. you: are you going to be wearing the mask? Simon: 🤷‍♂️ you: SIMON you: YOU CAN’T BE PULLING OUT THE EMOJIS LIKE THIS you: YOU STARTLE ME EVERY TIME. Simon: Good. Simon: See you soon.

Setting the phone down on the mattress, Simon got up from bed and took off his towel, tossing it over the back of his desk chair before opening the top drawer of his tall dresser, grabbing a pair of black boxer briefs and putting them on.

Then, he rummaged through the other drawers looking for his one ‘going out shirt’™️ (which was actually a black long-sleeve compression shirt) which he put on along with a pair of dark jeans. It was a simple outfit.

Then he slipped on some black boots. He threw on a leather jacket over that and tucked a black neck gaiter into the neckline of the t-shirt, hiking it up to cover his mouth and nose.

Barely a minute later, he was making his way into Soap’s room and across the small space that separated him from the bathroom.

“Going somewhere, L.T.?” Soap probed from his spot at his desk, eyebrows raised and his eyes locked on the older man’s with intrigue. He rarely saw Ghost in civvies and even more rarely did he see him without a hoodie.

Unlike Ghost, Soap had made his officer’s quarters into his own living space, having brought in a gaming computer and chair, a small beanbag, and had plenty of knick-knacks around.

“Going out.” Ghost said simply as he grabbed Soap’s hair gel and squirted a glob of it into his hand before lathering them and using them to run through his blond locks which were exposed without the hoodie or signature balaclava.

“Out? On a date?” Soap asked Ghost as he quickly jogged up to the bathroom door, watching as Ghost fiddled with his hair.

“No. Just drinks.” Ghost replied as he tugged a bit as his hair to make it stand up straight.

“Is this someone you found on Tinder…?” Soap probed as he leaned his shoulder on the bathroom door, a boyish grin on his lips.

Ghost looked over at Soap out of the corner of his eye as he finished fiddling with his hair and rinsed his hands under ice cold water in the sink.

Soap took Ghost’s silence as an affirmative response. “Pro’lly a shag too, hm?” He joked, earning him another glance out of the corner of his eye. “Bloody hell, L.T. tell me all about it later, yea?” He laughed.

“Fuck no.” Ghost added as he grabbed one of Soap’s cologne bottles and raised it up for a sniff before scowling at the scent and setting it down again.

“Aw, c’mon L.T.!” He pleaded.

“Get your own date, MacTavish.” Then, he just made his way right out the door, forcing Soap to move out of the way, looking a bit like a wounded puppy.

“I’m not getting anything interesting on there!” Soap lamented with a sigh.

“No? Well, I’m sorry for you, then, Johnny.” Ghost quipped as he opened the door again and stepped out into the hall, leaving Soap behind.

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

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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leychin · 8 months

Text

All of it.

part 2

Tomura is due for his procedure in one week.

You don't bother trying to talk him out of it. Whats the point. His brain is too clouded by his hatred and rage towards heroes, towards his master, towards everyone around him.

It overpowers anything he feels for you.

You want to believe he hates you so it can be easier, but its never easy with Tomura. He knocks on your door at night so gently as if he isnt the most feared man in all of Japan, sits on your bed as if it's a rocking ship, and asks you to hold him like he's made of glass.

But Tomura wouldn't say it, he can't, he doesn't know how. He's lived with this hate for so long that loving you isn't something that comes to him naturally, in the mornings you don't exist. Just another League member with a job to fulfill, so why is he here with you like this?

It's because he's scared. His entire body is going to be ripped apart and then put back together for months, who wouldn't be scared? You're scared for him, he comes into your room at night and you press sweet kisses to tear sodden cheeks as he truly realizes what hes going to do. He knows hes going to leave. Its going to hurt. But it's something he has to do.

Not for his master, but for you.

He could never say it though, because how could he expect you to understand? Would you believe him? He knows you would try and convince him to stay how he is, he doesn't need to he stronger.

But Shigaraki needs to, he has this overwhelming urge to protect you, the one good thing in his life. He needs this power to keep you from disgusting people like master and the heroes. He wants to keep you in this room right here, with the minecraft music playing softly in the background as you ask him for more iron for some lanterns.

Its things like this that Shigaraki is fighting for, His hatred overshadows everything but you've lit a candle in his heart. When you fall asleep with your controller in your hands he's taking it from you and tucking you in, ghosting his lips over your head in his own form of a kiss.

God, he really does love you.

But it's never said, it can't be said. It's too late. Shigaraki will be gone for months and he'll be different, All for One will have everything he's worked for and he'll take your Tomura from you, and you'll be nothing to him as he moves to things much larger than the two of you in this shared space that's littered in old wrappers and empty cup ramen.

Eventually though, you wake up one morning and Tomura is gone, the menu music still playing softly in the background, the pause screen only showing one player showing he's logged off long ago.

Though, you unpause for a moment just to take a final walk around the world you two created. Beautiful cherry blossom trees lining a pathway to the updates village you made, ugly creeper holes Shigaraki didn't bother to fill up. You keep them uncovered, as a way to permanently mark the time spent with him.

You decide to log off and never play this game again, to never let yourself feel this hurt again, to never love again. But theres a spot in your enchantment room you've never seen before, Its hidden by clever bookshelf and stairs placements but theres a button wedged between the blocks, and when you press it you hear pistons whirr and open to what looks like an armory.

Theres an empty armor stand and one thats in full enchanted netherite armor, its his armor. The chest next to it is full of valuable items but one stands out to you; a signed book.

The glow makes you quickly add it to your inventory and open it yourself.

"It's all for you. Everything." -T.S.

That fucking idiot.

#tomura shigaraki #x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #fanfic #tenko shimura x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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fic-heaven · 6 months

Text

Ghost x witty reader

Good luck's kiss

Running through the hall heaving like a dog earned you a few confused looks from the passerbys, but the fact that your lieutenant was in the armory about to leave for a month to a mission you were not quite informed of, made you skip breakfast to at the very least, say goodbye. Because obviously that's what friends do... Not crazy fucks with a big-ass crush.

"Hey! Hey!!" You call out to Ghost who by the looks of it, is not happy at all while rearranging his bag near the exit from where you just busted in.

"Don't got time to humour ya, sarge. We are deploying in a few minutes." The tall Brit growls rushing to collect his things, the heavy bag he previously had on the floor was now being launched to his shoulder as Simon got ready to leave the room.

"Weren't ya leaving in like... Half a week?" You breathlessly said getting on his way.

"Yeah well, change of plans. That's our job, sweetheart."

You crossed your arms with a patient look and that seemed to tick him off.

"You weren't planning to simply leave without saying goodbye, right? That's not something my favorite lieutenant would do."

He busied himself checking his gear for the last time on the crusty, broken mirror near next to you that someone had forgotten to throw away as an excuse to spend a few minutes listening to you.

"What would ya have me do? I ain' got no time to fuck around kissing everyone g'bye."

"Do you need a good luck's kiss, LT?"

That shocked Ghost, but he was obviously not going to openly show it, he knew if he was too obvious he wouldn't hear the end of it with all your teasing, so he stood there staring blankly at your reflection next to him in utter silence and you, always so straight forward, weren't one to shy away from this even if it was only a joke.

You moved the paralyzed lieutenant by the shoulders to face you so you could lean in, to your surprise he crouched a bit to your level when he picked up on what you were about to do, your hand went to his jaw tilting his head a bit to the side with his permission, then you planted your lips to the cold surface of his masked cheek. Ghost's eyes remained open, never blinking in a seemingly bored expression while you smiled in amusement at your lieutenant until you spotted the clock hanging from the wall behind him and realization hit you.

"Y'gotta go, what are ya waiting for? A second kiss?"

That seemed to pull him out of his hidden stupor, he blinked twice, leaned back and stretched his neck. "Thanks for the offer. That wasn't awkward at all..."

"Why! I bet you are blushing under there~"

"On your dreams, I only indulge in your stupidity-"

"Oh, for bonding I bet."

"Not really, it's only for my sole amusement."

"My goodness, Riley. You are cold..."

Ghost was about to leave the armory with his hand ready to open the door until he heard this, he turned to you, took a few rushed steps closer his right hand shooting to grab your nape and pressed the teeth of his mask to your forehead simulating a kiss. It was your turn to look openly dumbfounded. Ghost took a peek your way, said his quick goodbyes and left.

He'll never acknowledge the loud dreamy sigh that scaped his mouth when his lungs deflated once he got to the humvee.

Simon could die on this mission and feel a type of peace only belonging to a man who has seen and done everything on his list. Although next time, if everything goes right and he gets back to you, he hopes you'll give him another kiss but this time with no mask.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader

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angelique-isawineglass · 1 month

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

(Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x F!Reader) [Lady Dimitrescu comforts Headmaiden!Reader during a stressful breakdown] ~Anxiety attacks/Hurt/Sad themes/Dissociating/If you are sensitive to or gain anxiety/mental breakdowns when connecting with online bad scenarios, please leave, I know they can be upsetting as hell and annoying to deal with. Please don't be afraid to cry if you need to, just promise you won't do it alone <3, love you all :3 ~ ~Little use of Y/N, grammar may be poor, misspellings probably frequant, Reader is over 30 (roughly 36-38), Reader overworks when stressed~ ~SFW~ ~ ~

Keeping more then 50 maids in line was hard. Not impossible, especially when you're as stern and strong as yourself. ... At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You love working for The Countess of Castle Dimitrescu after serving for years and years, but occasionally, some days just become a little bit too much. Today just happened to be one of those days.

Currently, you were cleaning windows in The Lady's private chambers, thoughts dancing about in your mind. This week had been full to the brim with bloody messes, incompetent maids and idiot moroaică managing to bust down the diningroom door, however the hell they manage to do it without being sliced to ribbons by The Mistress was anyones guess.

You had somehow managed to slip out of focus for a moment as the screams of what sounded like a male from the dungeon rung through the castle. Considering how long you had worked in Castle Dimitrescu for, the screams of maids and occasional hunters always managed to make you shudder. You didn't think you'd ever get used to it.

Unfortunately, thinking about what the daughters of The Lady were doing to whatever daft minded gentlemen attempting a break in at this time of year was being put through, did nothing for the bubbling anxiety creeping its way up your chest. You knew several of the people who had endured the wrath of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, however, you never really had too much of a relationship with any of them. You preferred to keep to yourself whenever you weren't handing out tasks and intructing newer maids of what to do. Still, the screams that echo through the kitchen everyday were less then appealing.

The more your mind wandered the more distracted you became. You went from wiping down windows to staring over the terrace. The longer you stood there thinking about your week, the more frustrated and upset you became. A million questions running wild in your head, What on earth had Ingrid been thinking? Sneaking into Miss Bela's chambers after forgetting to wash the girl's sheets. Why were the moroaică being so disruptive and- and loud?? The moroaică is one thing, the maids another, but also the thought of this repeating process; waking up, more dead maids, more new maids, more girls to train, repeat. It was stressful, and you were getting tired of not taking the breaks you were being offered every so often. But what were you meant to do? Maids don't train themselves, unless The Lady would control her daughters before they kill every last maid in one day.

Of course, you had nothing against The Lady or her daughters, you adored the 3 girls as if they were your own children, but seeing as you had been taking care of all of them for over 15 years, that was probably expected. You read to Daniela often, helped Cassandra keep things organised in the armory, and spoke with Bela whenever she was hovering around the kitchen. You really just loved to spend time with the girls whenever you could. The Lady had taken a liking to you over the years as well. You would normally sit down for tea or wine after a days work to talk with her whenever she was free, and even paused your work whenever you crossed paths in the hallways. However, as of late, you had been distancing yourself, and The Lady definitely noticed.

By now, your hands were trembling, but you snapped out of your thoughts and kept doing your chores anyways, trying to ignore the fact that you were close to spilling frustrated waterfalls. You didn't know what you were specifically upset about so why were you panicking? You can't be the person who helps take care of the entire Castle if you can't place what you're even upset about. Too busy drowning in your thoughts, you hadn't heard the chamber door swinging open, or the clicking of heels that followed.

The groan you let out was muffled as you lifted your apron up to wipe your face of the few tears that had managed to pass the dam currently built behind your eyelids. Your hands covered your face, shielding whatever was outside the window from seeing your annoyance. , , My dear, is something the matter?" The all too familiar voice snapped you out of the current state you were in.

You immediately whipped around, drying your face in the process before mumbling out an apology, not bringing yourself to meet The Countess's gaze.

, , I apololgize M'Lady, I didn't know you'd be done working so early." , , Look at me when you speak, draga." Alcina's voice was stern, but not to the point that it made her sound upset. More, concerned?

Reluctantly, your eyes trailed up her dress until you met Alcina's eyes. Upon noticing your tear streaked cheeks, The Countess's eyebrows furrowed. She took only a step foward before bending down to meet your height, her hand raising to your face as she took your chin in her hold.

, , Now. Tell me what bothers you, darling, your face is red."

Her eyes definitely showed concern, as this had been the first time in a while that she had seen you in such a weak and vulnerable state. At this moment, you would give anything to just spill out all your problems, but you passed that thought off, still wanting to avoid Lady Dimitrescu in any way.

, , It's nothing that should concern you, M'Lady. I don't want to put anything else on your plate." Just as you were about to ask to leave, you were pulled by your wrist towards The Countess.

Your breath hitched in your throat as she led you to the couch next to the window, sitting down before she lifts you up onto her lap. From the angle you were sitting at, you could see yourself in the vanity mirror. Of course, Alcina was right, your face was red.

, , M'Lady—"

, , Draga mea, how long until you stop avoiding me and my daughters?" She too, was looking at your reflection in the vanity mirror.

You opened your mouth to speak, but truthfully, you didn't really know what to say.

, , What's going on in that pretty little head of yours that's made you so distant, hm? Don't think I hadn't noticed it all when I saw you trying to evade Daniela the other day. I hope you don't think that just because your one of my most trusted maids, you have the right to keep things from me. You live in my home, therefore anything that happens with you—" She points to your chest, of which was rising up and down a lot quicker then before. , , -Is my concern whether you think it is or not." The Mistress looked deeply into the reflection of your eyes, as if trying to search for an answer. This woman always had a way with words that confused you just as much as it comforted you. Alcina had been so caring and sweet to you in the past, (thanks to the little amount of mess ups you made compared to the women who had been brought to The Castle along side yourself all those years ago) on your journey here in Castle Dimitrescu, she had managed to break down a lot of your mental shields, the shields that kept prying eyes at bay.

Your foot started to bounce nervously up and down and with a hesitant sigh, you started to rant about all the problems on your mind. How you thought that maybe you weren't working enough, and that you didn't deserve all the time you get to spend with the Dimitrescu's. Tears eventually broke out as you continued to lay all your troubles out in front of you. Alcina just sat and listened to you, rubbing your arm with her thumb and nodding understandably every now and then, not that you could see yourself or her anymore, Alcina had pulled you into her chest when you started to cry. By the time you had stopped rambling, your eyelashes were wet with tears, and your eyes were puffy and red.

, , Sweetheart, if a maid isn't doing their job correctly then you should be telling me, so that I can deal with it." She brings her hand up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. , , As for how much you work, I think the fact that you have been serving this Castle much longer then any other maid could survive here for is proof enough of your worth for me and my daughters. Besides, we don't care what you're worth. Do you enjoy my daughters company?" You nod slowly, leaning into The Countess's hand. , , I enjoy every second of my time with the girls. They're angels, if you wipe off the blood on their faces. I just- I just think that perhaps I dont do enough to earn their—." You're silenced when a leather gloved finger is pressed softly to your lips.

, , You're overthinking. Darling, my girls could very well see you as a second mother, they adore you just as much as I do, and I don't think I see them as happy as they are when you're around them. When you're stuck in a Castle for as long as you can remember, you start to get bored, draga. And don't you dare go forgetting that. You treat my girls as if their human beings, not some psycho witches that hunt and kill for a living. I've seen the way you look at them, you love them, you know you do. And they love you too. Now what makes it so hard to see that?"

A second mother? Well yes you treat them as your own sometimes, but you never wanted to say outloud that you loved them in that way, in case of what The Mistress might think. But now that you're hearing her say it, it all feels like a dream. You would do anything to protect Alcina's daughters. You never had interest in having children, but you always had a maternal instict when you came to know the Dimitrescu daughters.

, , You're stressed, draga mea. I hate seeing you that way." , , I'm- I'm sorry, I just— This week has been so rough, I thought maybe working more would get my mind off of everything—" Alcina grabs your chin, turning you to look at her in the eye.

, , My dear, the last thing you should be doing when you're stressed is working. You should be resting, instead- Not- Cleaning windows, sweeping, cooking- I hate to see you do that to yourself. I've known you too long to treat you as just another maid, just take care of yourself more. Can you please do that for me?"

You begin to cry again, burying your face into her chest once more. You start to mumble out apologies over and over again. Alcina comforts you through your tears, wrapping her arms around your body and drawing shapes on your back as you let out choked sobs and soft whimpers. Eventually, your tears stop flowing and they turn into quiet yawns. Finding amusement in your tired state, she begins to run her fingers through your hair.

, , Very tired now, aren't you..." Her voice was soft and quiet. She began leaning to the right, slowly lowering herself further onto the couch, with you laying on top of her. At this rate, you were too tired to deny her warmth, so you just lay curled up on top of The Mistress, welcoming the sleep that finally stole you away.

, , Someday, draga mea, you'll open your eyes and realize just how much you mean to me."

thAt is the first time i have written smth like this :^

lemme know if you want more, bc i already hate this :D

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 village #re8 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader

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behindthearmory · 8 months

Text

Too worn out to get to bed!?

Update: we made it, babes. I would like to thank the academy

#text behind the armory #what if I am not cut out for social work is a thing I will battle every January #teammate got promoted and I volunteered to cover cases until we get a new hire #and now my caseload is 102 🙃#i am my greatest enemy but I get an extra $150 per paycheck until they redistribute the cases #I’ve had so many appointments this week! both personal and work related! one more tomorrow afternoon and then I will turn into liquid

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maremartinelli · 1 month

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A SURPRISE OF LOVE

Daryl Dixon X fem!reader

Summary: Where Daryl's wife goes on a patrol and arrives all injured, but during the exams Daryl discovers another member.

Words: 1.7K+

Warnings: Blood, bruises, TWD characters, pregnancy, Daryl daddy, and happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes that may be made. Second, I love Daryl and I wanted him to be the father of my children. That's it!!

MASTERLIST

Things weren't going well in Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop. With the arrival of the Whisperers, it seemed like everything had turned upside down again.

But giving up wasn't something they really wanted to do. They would fight as many times as it took to keep everyone they loved safe.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says, approaching his wife near the Hilltop gates.

Y/n turns around quickly at the man's voice.

"No, you don't need to. I'm just going to take a look at the neighborhood I saw nearby, there might be some supplies to share with Alexandria and Reino." S/n says without worries and smiles.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says again as he asks someone to reach for his bow.

Y/n turns to her husband and holds back a smile.

"Hey, I'll be fine out there by myself. If that's what you're worried about. We've been through so much, one round isn't going to hurt anyone."

•

Minutes, hours passed. And still no sign of S/n arriving at the community again.

Daryl knew where this place she was going to was, they found out together.

"Did you see if S/n arrived? She left a few hours ago and hasn't shown any signs of life until now" Daryl asks Carol, who was on patrol at that time.

"No. Since I've been here, no one has come or gone." Carol says. "Maybe Connie or Rosita could have seen her. Has it been long since she left?"

"About 4 hours. And the place she said is close, there's no reason for it taking so long" Daryl says a little harshly, but inside he was eating himself up with fear of losing his wife.

"Oh... Do you want me to go ask Connie if she saw S/n?"

"No, no. I'll go look for her." Daryl leaves.

from where he was and goes looking for a dog and equipment to leave the community.

Carol starts to worry too. Y/n had been with them since the quarry, the girl who had now become a woman was a great friend, partner and companion of Carol. If she had to say it, Carol would say that Y/n was her best friend.

Daryl walks to the armory to gear up, while Carol returns to her guard post.

The sun was almost setting, but the heat it gave off was almost hellish. Carol wiped the sweat from her forehead when she heard the other guards shout that someone was approaching.

"Open up!! Open up, it's Y/N!!" Carol screams.

When they opened the gates, Carol came across a woman covered in blood. Her hair was half out of her ponytail, her boots were untied, and there was blood all over her body.

"Y/n!!" Carol throws what she has in her hands and runs to the woman. "Oh my God..."

That blood wasn't zombie's, it was all hers.

There was a deep cut on the right side of the woman's stomach. A lot of blood was gushing out.

"Carol..." Y/n said softly, as her legs felt weak.

The blonde-haired woman holds S/n so she doesn't fall to the ground.

"Were you bitten? Y/N, were you bitten?" Carol asks in desperation.

Y/n tries to speak but she feels very weak due to the blood loss. She just shakes her head negatively.

Which made Carol's heart calm down a little.

"I...I..." Y/n tries to say something, but everything around her started to turn black and blurry. "Carol...my...I'm pregnant...five weeks" she says in a whisper before fainting in Carol's arms.

Carol is in ecstasy for a few seconds, until Daryl's voice snaps her out of her trance.

"S/NNN!!"

•

3 days later...

After Daryl got to where Y/n and Carol were, they quickly took her so Enid could evaluate her and give a diagnosis as quickly as possible.

At the moment, S/n was lying on a bed in the makeshift infirmary, which was now run by Enid.

Little by little, the Dixon Woman slowly opened her eyes, getting used to the sunlight after a few days of sleeping.

"Good morning, flower of the day" She hears Enid's voice beside her.

Y/n still tries to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Daryl asked me to open the curtains all the way. He told me you love waking up to sunlight, I thought it would help." Enid says smiling, as she walks over to the window to close it.

Y/n smiles as she imagines Daryl saying that.

"Good morning," S/n says smiling, trying to sit up in bed. But she winces in pain. "Aw, aw..."

"Hey, hey. I'll help you," Enid says, approaching the woman to help her get ready on the bed. "I put some stitches in your belly. Can you tell me what happened? So I can put it in the medical record."

Y/n grimaces in pain, but nods.

"I was attacked by a horde of zombies. I had to jump over a wall to save myself, but there was some barbed wire. I kind of got tangled up..." She says with a half smile.

"Oh yeah, it kind of got tangled up" Enid smiles at Y/n, as she turns to get some more medicine for Y/n. "Well, let me give you a summary of what I did here for you in those days that you slept."

"How many days was I out?"

"Three days"

"Wow..."

"Yes... Well, after Carol and her husband brought you here, I stopped the wound, gave you some medicine to ease the pain, put in some stitches, and went to check on the baby. Carol said that you..."

"Oh shit..." S/n leans back and puts her hand on her head, tears starting to fall.

"Oh no, you didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought..."

"No, no...I knew...I know about the baby. It's been a while now." S/n looks at Enid with tears in her eyes.

"Congratulations" Enid says happily.

Y/n starts to cry softly, while looking at Enid.

"Oh no...I take back the congratulations?" Enid didn't know what to do.

"No, no," Y/n laughed through her tears. "I'm glad I did. But I haven't told Daryl yet... damn, Daryl... Does he know?"

"I told you...I didn't know you hadn't told him, if I had known I would have left it alone" Enid starts talking quickly.

"It's okay, Enid. It's okay..." Y/n agrees with a smile. "It's just that he and I have only talked about it two or three times. He must be in shock, that's all..."

"Look...if that was your concern. Whenever he comes, he asks about the baby first, how the vital signs are and everything" Enid says with love in her eyes.

Y/n chokes back a little more tears, just imagining her tough husband asking about her little baby. She smiles.

"Serious?"

"Yes. For those three days he slept next to you, and in the middle of the night when I came to give him his intravenous medication, I saw him looking at the ultrasound photo. Maybe he's not that shocked after all." She smiles at Y/n.

Y/n smiles too.

Seconds later, they heard the infirmary door open. It was the archer entering.

Seeing Y/n awake, a breath of relief was released from Daryl's lungs, and a few tears could be gathering in his eyes.

"He came back later, you must be doing some tests," he says awkwardly. Y/n holds back a smile.

"Oh, no, no. We were just shooting the breeze. I have to go out anyway," Enid says, looking between Daryl and Y/N. "I'll be back later to see you guys." Enid looks at Y/N, and she nods.

As they pass Daryl, Enid gives him a friendly smile and closes the infirmary door, so they have more privacy.

Daryl approaches Y/n, who begins to shed some silent tears.

"I thought I was going to lose you"

You

You...

For the first time, Y/n heard Daryl talk about his baby.

That was the end, Y/n started to shed tears from her eyes and sob. Covering her eyes with her hands, Daryl approaches her wife and wraps her in a hug. Shedding a few tears as well.

"It's okay...it's okay," Daryl says quietly.

"No. I'm sorry, Daryl...I'm sorry." Y/n's voice was muffled due to her crying and her hands on her face.

"Hey, hey. Why the apologies?" He stands up, holding his wife's hands affectionately, so she can look at him.

"The baby. I knew about the baby for about 3 weeks and I didn't tell you. I know we didn't talk about it much, and I was scared."

"Afraid of what, doll?" Daryl says worriedly.

"That's nonsense to say." Y/n shakes her head. "But I was afraid you wouldn't want him." She looks at Daryl. He can feel his heart break.

"Honey, I would never do that. We may have talked about it once or twice, but never. NEVER. I would let you or the baby go through terrible things. I want him, I really want that peanut" he says all cute at the end, which made Y/n smile at the part where he gave the baby a nickname already. "I may have some fears about being a father, but that's not why I'm going to reject him. I'll do my best, and I know you will too" he hugs Y/n again.

"You're making me cry again," she said smiling as she snuggled closer to her husband.

"Just promise me one thing. You'll never go out alone again."

Y/n nods.

"I don't want to lose you. Or the baby. Please."

"Okay," Y/n sniffs. "But look, I got supplies for the communities," she pulls out of the hug a little and smiles.

"Shut up, woman. You almost died," Daryl says with his somewhat harsh affection, making Y/n smile.

"Okay. I'll stop messing around with this." She says, getting ready in bed.

Silence reigns between the two, a comfortable silence between them. While Daryl held his wife's hand and caressed it.

"I have something to show you"

"But already? Our baby hasn't even been born and you're already like this?" S/n teases, smiling sideways.

Daryl just snorts and rolls his eyes.

"You are impossible"

"Yeah. I am." S/n says laughing, but stops when she feels a pain. "Don't make me laugh."

Daryl smiles and then reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"Here, Enid gave this to me after she assessed the baby. I knew about him right then." Daryl hands over a picture of their ultrasound.

"Look there," S/n said, wiping away some tears of emotion. "Our baby."

"Peanut"

"Oh sure, peanut." She looks at the picture a little longer, before turning to her husband. "Sorry again for not telling you about the peanut sooner."

"It's okay now. We'll be okay, the three of us."

"I heard I'm going to be an aunt?" Carol walks into the infirmary, making Y/n and Daryl smile.

"Yes!!" Y/n says excitedly.

Author: I love reading Daryl a father of babies🤯😫

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #lovers #marriage #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead #babies #baby #carol peletier

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starlightguh · 9 days

Text

Intertwined

Word Count: 4,655

Summary: Somehow Sylus and you have a strange bond from his Evol. Neither of you know the meaning of this or what exactly it is. After searching for some answers and ending up empty, you end up giving in to a strong temptation in the form of the tall and cocky Onychinus leader.

Tags: Smut, enemies to lovers, divergent from canon lore since we don’t have his backstory yet

AN: This is an 18+ fic, so MDNI! This is a multi chapter story that you can also read on my Ao3, I will try and post updates both on here and there, so please enjoy!

Being trapped in the Onychinus headquarters felt like a nightmare. It had only been a couple of weeks but I had been desperately missing familiar faces, sights, and sounds.

Since being trapped and forced to stay with Sylus as he tries to resonate with me, I’ve felt just like another bird trapped in his extravagantly large cage.

Recently, our Evols bounded us together in a way I never thought possible. When the red mist handcuffs appeared around both me and Sylus’ wrists the confusion and panic had settled deep in my bones and still hadn't gone away.

He even recommended cutting my hand off as a solution. Of course, he wasn’t serious, but the situation at hand caused him to briefly panic.

But no matter how dire the situation, that man gets on my nerves unlike anything else.

I currently lay in the large plush bed of my current living quarters in Sylus’s mansion of nightmares. The dark red silk sheets felt so smooth and luxurious against my skin, but my eyes were just focused on my hand. Nothing was there, but I stared at it as if to summon the answers to this mysterious situation into my palm.

Feeling a mix of frustration and boredom, I decide to go poke around Sylus’s lair and see if I can dig up any books or something that could lead me down a research path as to what’s happened between us.

Since the incident a few days ago, nothing has really changed, other than more heavy creases between Sylus’s brows. As of late he’s been more blasé about it and that’s just another thing about him on my long list of ‘things Sylus does to piss me off.’

I shiver as I step out of my room into the empty and echo-y dark hallway. Being barefoot and in a thin white nightgown, I was left vulnerable should a certain crime syndicate leader decide I was useless. But somewhere deep in my body I knew I was safe within this crow-obsessed man’s lair.

I wandered, a bit aimlessly, around to see if I could find the proper library. Truth be told, the only places I had explored were the kitchen, the armory, Sylus’ room, and the long hallway near my room. I had a vague idea of where Kieran and Luke’s room was, since they would sometimes tease me about visiting them for a ‘bedtime story,’ but I never had an interest to give in to their silly demands.

It felt like I was constantly poking my head in and out of rooms, most of them looked very untouched. For someone with a big mansion he surely never used it. Most occasions Sylus was out on ‘business ventures’ and on the other occasions he would be in his room, the dining area, the terrace, gym, and once and a while asleep in the lounge area’s couch. But beyond that he never seemed to use the space in his extravagant home. And he hasn’t yet dared come near the quarters I was currently living in. At least I have some privacy there.

It was strange. I felt captive, yet very free at the same time. He never restricts where I can go and explore my curiosity, in fact, he encourages me to snoop. How annoying, I sigh to myself.

As I reach a wing of the manner I’ve never been into before, I open a set of double doors to a very spacious and well stocked library. I smile to myself pleased with my venture as I flick on a light and scrunch my face as I take in all the dust and cobwebs littering the various large black shelves that wrap around the whole room.

There must’ve been thousands of books covering the shelves of the walls, the only other furniture to grace the room was a large black leather upholstered chaise lounge, and a small side table with a simple gold lamp. I hummed as I approached the first wall of books nearest to me.

My eyes start scanning the shelves for anything useful. I grab a couple of books that look like they have research and information on Evol and sit down in the lounge chair to start my research.

As my eyes scan texts for what only feels like a few minutes, a deep and sultry voice reaches my ears.

“Are you trying to have a competition to see who can stay up the longest? Are you sure you could compete with me?”

My head pokes up to see Sylus leaning in the entryway to the library. His long legs were dressed in black silky lounge pants and his chest was hardly covered in his matching silk robe. His pale white skin was tantalizing as the warm light from the library illuminated his fair features.

His red eyes looked at me with mirth in them, while his face was painted in an amused grin as he stared at my lounging form.

“I was just feeling a bit restless is all…” I rolled my eyes at his haughty demeanor.

He walks over to me in smooth strides and looks down at the reading material. Or he’s trying to stare down my nightgown, who knows with this man.

“Anything good? I’m afraid you’ll find my collection lacks the whimsical fairy tales I’m sure you enjoy…But I might have one or two children’s books you could find amusing,” he teases.

My face doesn’t move at his attempts to provoke me, I don’t have the energy to entertain his taunts. “I’m trying to see if I can find any information about this unique connection we have…So far nothing’s come up.”

He frowns a bit at this, his expression is hard to read. I can’t tell if he knows any more or less about this situation than I do. He did seem just as surprised and upset as I did when this occurred.

“I don’t know if there’s anything quite like us…As I said before, you and I are more alike than you know,” his silver hair shakes as he moves his head in a dismissive manner.

“But I’m nothing like you! You’re crazy! You live up in this empty castle where you sit around and plot the demise of people! Innocent or bad you selfishly propel yourself to the top of everything, and for what? A home you barely enjoy? An empty life full of nothing but death and destruction? Tell me Sylus, how are you and I alike?”

I slam my book shut and stand up. I don’t meet his insane height, so I glare upwards. My patience has run thin and I’m tired of being kept on a string with him. If he knows something I don’t, why doesn't he do something to cast me aside? Certainly the aether core can’t mean that much to him if he hasn’t cut it out of my chest yet.

He lets out a deep and guttural growl as he uses his Evol to wrap around my body and lift me up higher in the air.

“Sweetie, it’s almost embarrassing to see yourself in this much denial. Honestly kitten, you cannot be this naive… You're just painting me out to be the boogeyman because you’re little head can’t understand what’s really happening.” he tilts his head with a frown and continues, “You think you’re so self righteous with your little hunter title, but are you also not causing death and destruction for those around you on your little missions? That you’re also coming home to an empty bed?”

He then forces a smirk on his face as he finally spits out, “Or am I wrong to assume that? You certainly have enough men around you to keep your bed warm kitten.”

I try and lash out against his Evol and let out nothing but frustrated yells and grunts. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Put me down!”

He brings me down, but he uses his Evol to pull me closer to his face, we’re pretty much nose to nose as his red eyes look at my face with disappointment.

“Who is it…Is it that little space hunter who should be dead by now? Is it that ridiculous artist? Don’t tell me,” he pauses and puts his large hand on my face to cup my cheek, “You’re sleeping with your own doctor?” He lets out a deep chuckle at the thought and there’s something behind his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.

I grit my teeth and reply, “And why should you give a shit about something like that?”

His hand slides down and grips a bit at my throat. Not hard enough to hurt me, but definitely enough to make my eyes go wide with shock. “Because once I find a high value prize, I don’t like to share.”

He swiftly takes his hand off my throat and puts me down, he goes to strut out of the library. I presume he’s storming off to go to his room to pout, but something in me stops him.

“None of them…” I call out and pause a moment before continuing, “I guess you’re not wrong in that element…We both have our empty castles to defend.”

He stops in his tracks, he glances to the side back at me, “I hope you keep it that way kitten, for their sakes.”

Without another word he stalks off like a gloomy shadow. What the fuck is his deal? Is all I can think to myself as I rub my neck.

After that sudden outburst between us I go back to my quarters with a headache. I lay in the lavish bed once again and my mind begins to wander. I do hope the others he mentioned aren’t worried for me…

Rafayel was the last person I talked to before entering the N109 zone. I hope he isn’t trying to do any more shady stuff at the nest. As for Xavier, he’s probably too busy running away from the bounty he has. And Zayne….I feel a bit of pang in my chest as I can clearly picture his worried hazel eyes. I silently hope he’s too busy with his research in Snowcrest to even think about my whereabouts.

But how dare Sylus insinuate I’d have late night proclivities with any of them. Besides Zayne, I hardly knew Rafayel or Xavier, and with all my curiosity of the information grandma left me, I have no time to think about being intimate with someone.

After a few minutes of dancing around the idea of intimacy with any of those prospective suitors, my thoughts seem to betray me as they recall the dance I shared with Sylus…Or the instance of laying on top of his nearly naked body searching for that crow broach….The way he felt hard beneath me-

I shake my head and slap my cheeks, nonono go away horny thoughts… I sigh to myself. Maybe I just need to get laid… It’s been what feels like eons since I’d been intimate with another person and with all this stress, frustration, and seductiveness of Sylus running around, I felt no better than a horny teenage boy.

Sleep was avoiding me and no matter how hard I tried to think of literally anything else, Sylus’ half naked body kept popping up in my head.

I’m getting a drink, I can’t handle this

With another frustrated groan I get up from the bed to leave this room and stalk my way to the dining area that has a gold metallic wine rack in the corner. I decided to just grab the bottle for myself. As I twisted it open and drank straight from the source I couldn’t help but growl with frustration as the bitter dark red liquid went straight down my throat.

After the warmth of the alcohol hits my stomach, I turn around to go and stomp back to my room when my face smacks into a soft and plump set of pectorals.

Great, just fucking perfect, I think to myself as he chuckles and placed his hand on my lower back.

“Sweetie,” I shiver as his deep velvet voice coos to me, “I’m sorry about our little spat earlier,” he forces my face away from his chest to make me look up at him. “But you know…I didn’t think you would turn to my liquor cabinet as a way to blow off steam.”

I glare up at his stupidly handsome and cocky face, “Well consider this bottle of wine your apology.”

He pauses for a moment as he leans in to study my face more. His right eye is glowing as it feels like he’s looking into my very soul. I shiver as I suddenly feel more exposed than ever.

For a moment I feel as if I did in our first encounter, dizzy, confused, and painfully, empty. The whispers of “Devour him,” and “So empty,” echo through my hazy brain.

Suddenly he leans back away from me and that feeling goes away. As I remain frozen, Sylus bursts out into laughter after a moment of pause and suddenly his hand on my lower back tightens its grip.

“Well, I must say this is not how I envisioned things to go…But after seeing what it is you desire most right now…I’m more than happy to ease your frustrations Sweetie.”

My face flushes, fucking damn his stupid ‘desire’ seeing eye! That’s not fair!

“Sylus be serious…” I look away from him.

“Oh I am,” he grabs the bottle from my hand and takes a swig himself, “And here I thought you were disgusted with me…Seems like my kitten is still ever in denial,” he leans in to whisper in my ear, his nose brushes against my skin just below my ear and my back straightens out in attention to his hot breath and fleeting touch. My skin lines itself with goose flesh as his face lightly brushes against my skin and wanders down my throat.

“Mmmm,” he purrs as his lips find a spot on my neck to lick and suck.

I let out a yelp of shock as my hands latch onto the silk of his robe. Sylus just pulls away with a chuckle.

“Hmmm,” he looks down at the bottle of wine in his hand, “Does my kitty need liquid courage to be honest with herself?” He tilts his head and I’m too stunned to retort.

He chuckles and takes a swig from the bottle and leans down to capture my lips and pour the liquid from his mouth to mine.

“Mmph!” I can’t help but yelp as I’m forced to quickly swallow a large mouthful of wine as his mouth now has full access to explore mine.

It’s hot. The room temperature, his body, my body, the atmosphere, it feels like he just lit a fire in me. It all but consumes me as I decide to close my eyes and let his tongue try and find all the things I cannot say on the tip of my own.

As some of the wine had spilt on the side of my lip, Sylus, like a man possessed, goes to lick it up. After our lips are separated is when I notice something tight around my wrist.

We both looked down and the red misty handcuffs seemed to have appeared again.

“Huh…Why is it here now?”

“Let’s save your questions for later Sweetie…” he clears his throat after speaking, “Do you want me to continue? I’m not going to stop unless you say no to me right now.”

His eyes were serious, but they also held something else. It was the first time I ever saw a desperate expression cross his face. This nonchalant crime lord since I met him has always laughed in the face of danger or a challenge. But in this current moment, it seemed like he would crumble if I refuted.

Fuck it.

“Go ahead Sylus,” I say a bit too breathlessly for my own ego, but in the next minute he picks me up fireman style and he’s quickly gliding us to the double doors of his bedroom.

Before my mind can catch up, my back is hitting the plush of a mattress and his lips are kissing down the exposed neckline of my nightgown.

He had set the bottle that was in his hand on the nearby nightstand and both his hands were gliding down the expanse of my body.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moans out as he lowers the top of the gown to expose my bare breasts to the open air.

His mouth quickly latches on and my head bends back and my legs twist upwards as his large body is currently parting them. I place my hands on his shoulders as his suckles.

“S-Sylus…I-“

“You don’t need to talk… I know,” he pulls away from my chest to reply. He looks sincere and still a little desperate, it’s sending me into a tizzy, but honestly, I’m too turned on to really process everything at the moment.

Suddenly large and hot hands are raking up the hems of my nightgown to meet the sides of my underwear as they’re quickly pulled down.

“Kitten…” he sighs as his head lowers to be face to face with my bare center. He breathes a teasing puff of air at my now hot and aroused sex.

Without a second of hesitation his lips dive in to taste me and I let out a shocked moan as the hand that’s still being shackled by the mysterious Evol grips into his silver locks.

Both my legs wrap around the center of his back as he slowly but purposefully laps his tongue around areas I’ve never even felt before.

“F-Fuck! Sylus,” I cry out as he then decides to just drink the source of wetness from my hole and his tongue enters me.

He places his hands on my stomach and just hums in approval. To think this tongue that’s always lashing out teasing insults is fucking me right now, I moan at the thought that crossed my mind as I feel nothing but a pooling heat drip down into Sylus’s greedy mouth.

It’s hard to stay focused on anything at all as his mouth is lapping up my insides like it’s his final meal. Between that and the feeling of his large hands that reach the whole expanse of my stomach pushing down on me.

I can feel his nose brush against my clit as he works his mouth to devour me whole, and it feels like an invisible thread inside my body just snaps. Suddenly I’m screaming out his name and all he does is chuckle into me and move his other hand to softly grab my non-Evol locked one.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” I cry out as I fully come undone all over his face. Unable to care or think about how his face must be covered in my essence. I feel my body slack in relaxation from an intense release.

Suddenly, a burst of dark matter and energy explodes throughout the room, causing both of us to pause and snap out of our lustful haze.

I’m panting and his wet face comes up from under my dress to show me his bewildered and almost bloodlust expression. After a moment's pause he lets go of my hand and chuckles as he licks his luscious lips.

“Perhaps we should’ve just done this from the start…” he looks down at me with a smile and a look of genuine pride.

“What just…?” I’m still very breathless and dazed from my orgasm.

“That, my lovely kitten, was our resonating.”

Sylus looks so genuinely happy and proud that I can’t help but let out a “huh…”

His eyes darken, “Which means we should further test how much more we can do,” he whispers as he flings off his robe and goes to strip from his trousers.

I lift my wrist and still notice our strange Evol connection, “Well this is still here.”

“It might stay there for awhile Sweetie, we’re not done yet.”

His eyes never leave mine as he removes his boxers. My eyes widen at the sight of his length.

Holy… I think back to the glances I’ve stolen of the bulges of his tight leather pants and I had assumed that he was very well endowed, but seeing it full on display….I was rendered speechless.

“Like what you see?” He teases as his hands are pulling on my nightgown to fully remove it.

I can’t explain why, but suddenly I was relaxed as I was caged underneath him. We’re fully exposed to one another and I would’ve thought the idea of that would be horrific, but currently, it felt…Safe. A dance of a nostalgic feeling trickled within me, but I couldn’t place where those feelings stem from.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my demeanor, as he leaned down to capture my lips. The taste of wine and my sex mingled together as our lips met. It’s no surprise that Sylus’s lips lead me to his whim as his tongue would coax my mouth to his will.

To be expected from the man who always has control.

I let my hands wander down the muscles of his back as we kiss. I decide to rake my nails up and down his back in a light and feathery teasing manner.

Sylus shivers and pulls away, “Be careful kitten…”

He warns as he reaches down to grab my spread legs and places them from being wrapped around his back, to straddling his shoulders.

I hiss at the strength of my muscles as he lines himself up with my body. Sylus looks back at my face, his red eyes are surprisingly gentle as he whispers, “There’s no going back from this Sweetie…You’re finally mine again.”

Before I could really think on his words he slowly enters me and my eyes nearly roll into the back of my head at the feeling.

The voices from that hazy daze I had earlier seem to all simultaneously sigh in contentment along with me. Full, finally full.

Meanwhile Sylus is ontop of me hissing a string of curses, “You feel so good Kitten.”

His praise makes me whimper a bit, he keeps leaning down to kiss and nip at my collar bones as he keeps inching into me.

I feel like I’m drowning as he finally bottoms out and I can’t help but gasp and whine, “Moremoremore,” I cry as I feel teary eyed.

“Who knew you were so greedy?” He chuckles as he begins to thrust at a gradual pace.

“S-Sylus please,” I groan in frustration at his slow movements.

“Please what Sweetie?”

I dig my nails harder into his back as I pull myself up to his ear, “Fuck me like you mean it damnit.”

He snaps at that and suddenly he slams roughly into me and sets a more aggressive tempo to his rhythm.

Sylus leans back to grab at my hips with a throaty groan, “You’re a spoiled kitten,” he pauses as he keeps thrusting at his intense pace, “But I’ll give you anything you want…”

My hands can no longer reach his back or chest so the scrunch the silk sheets around me as I throw my head back and cry. I can feel the tip of his cock buried deep inside me as it pounds into a sensitive spot within me.

I feel like my soul is leaving my body as he takes his thumb to start rubbing my clit. “SylusSylus,” I cry out his name as my back is arching higher and higher, “I’m-I-“

“You can come kitten it’s okay,” he gasps out.

It was like my body could hear his words as I felt nothing but pleasure at my crescendo. I was putty in his hands as he slowed his pace to reach his own peak.

“Sylus,” I whisper, my own voice nearly unrecognizable to my own ears.

“Yes?” His voice choked out as he was clearly struggling to hold on.

“It’s okay….To come inside me…I want you to,” I pant out.

“F-Fuck,” his head drops to my chest again and with one harsh thrust I fill his hot seed spill inside me. I purr and humm at the feeling and I go to bring my hand to play in his hair, when I notice the dark embers flickering from my palm.

“Is this…?” I show him my palm.

“Mhmm…If a certain someone is more attracted to me now we can resonate,” his brow lifts in question as he peers his now tired eyes at me, “Unless you want me to do this every time we need to resonate?”

I tug at his hair to retaliate against his taunting tone, “Don’t start with me Sylus…Let me enjoy this…”

He gives me a soft smile and goes to move himself off me, “Alright…But don’t think you’re safe from me tomorrow kitten.”

I whimper a bit as he detached from me, his spend dripping out of me. He stands from the bed and puts on his robe to walk over to the bathroom as he grabs a fluffy white towel. “Here, let's just clean up and go to bed. I have all the time in the world tomorrow to figure out this Evol bond with you.”

I hum in agreement and finally exhaustion hits me as Sylus wipes between my legs. I blink slowly and don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until the next morning when I’m trapped in the embrace of two strong arms wrapped around me.

I try to move to go to the bathroom but he grips me tighter and whispers, “Don’t go…” into my ear.

I shiver at his pleading voice and just reply back, “Sylus…I just need to use the restroom…let go…”

He tsks his lips and sets me free, I can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. First I wanted to beat the shit out of him and then the next instance we were fucking.

I look in the bathroom mirror and notice dark splotches in my collarbone and neck, I sigh in disappointment at his handiwork. How am I going to cover these…I bet Luke and Kieran will have a field day if they see these.

When I glance down at my palm again I notice a strange red mark on my hands now. I brush my fingers over it and it seems to light up a bit when I touch it.

“Kitten?”

“Hmm?” I leave the bathroom and return to the bedroom where Sylus was looking around confused. “What is it?”

He looks at me and shakes his head, “it just felt like you were calling out to me…”

I look down at my wrist and show it to him, “Do you know what this is?”

He grabs it with a look of concern. “I think we might be even more connected now…”

“Even more? What do you mean?”

He just shakes his head and stands up, “I’m not entirely sure…but I have some theories… You up for a joyride?” He raises a brow.

I pout at his dismissal of answering me properly, “After breakfast…”

He laughs and his eyes light up in amusement, “But of course Sweetie… I’ll make sure you’re fed first.”

Who knows where he wanted to take me…. But as we ate breakfast together I couldn’t help but reflect on something Sylus said last night… “You’re mine again…”

As I ate my food I felt like I had more questions than I would ever get answers for…But something deep in my gut tells me to trust Sylus for now. I’ll have to find a way to get answers behind his back since he never wants to tell me anything.

I just hope the answers I find don’t break my already confused heart.

#love and deepspace #lads smut #lads fanfic #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus smut

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pricegouge · 12 days

Text

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Four | master list | taglist | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, pining for another man's wife

reader is fem and fat

He's low on the boy's list of priorities, it seems, his first day back from medical leave leading him far and wide across base before settling into John's visitor seat so late in the day. John didn't mind that, was honestly surprised to see him there at all considering the shallow relationship the two of them shared. What he did mind was the chosen topic of conversation.

It's late when Soap comes, the sun low enough to shine through the slots of John's blinds. That peaceful golden hour when the dust motes dance distractingly. He never gets much work done on days like this, when the sun warms his back, coaxing him outside to enjoy a sunlit fall day - a right novelty in England. It's the only reason he'd accepted the visit, Soap's knock at the door finding John elbow deep in paperwork he wouldn't have the attention span for until the sun had at least dipped below the armory building, his tablet sitting idle just wasting battery. He's low on the boy's list of priorities, it seems, his first day back from medical leave leading him far and wide across base before settling into John's visitor seat so late in the day. John didn't mind that, was honestly surprised to see him there at all considering the shallow relationship the two of them shared. What he did mind was the chosen topic of conversation.

"She said she wants what?"

"Mah bairn, cap. A baby, ye ken?"

If not for the years of training lining John's belt, he worries what he'd do to the unnervingly bright eyes Soap has trained on him in that moment. He wants to blacken them, maybe pluck them out of his pretty, dense head. He wants to see them shiny and wet with tears, red rimmed and bloodshot - doesn't know what to do with the urge, and doesn't even fully understand where it stems from either. Instead he draws a careful breath, takes a moment to be sure his voice is steady by carefully straightening and locking the screen in front of him. Across the desk, Soap looks ready to vibrate out of his seat, nerves shot beyond recognition despite the weeks of recuperation he's just getting back from. John decidedly does not think too hard about how the bird's been keeping her man tired out, the edges of his jealousy already honed sharp.

"I ken, Soap. What's this to do with me?"

John expects embarrassment, perhaps confusion. Something to show either Soap is misguided, or perhaps that there's a connecting piece John himself is missing. But the boy's eager in his response, leaning across his captain's desk with no concept of decorum. "Ye gotta talk some sense into her, cap," he pleads. "She'll listen tae ye - always has. Ye gotta tell her why it's a terrible idea, that -."

"A terrible idea?" If his voice sounds calm, it's a testament to the damage a lifetime's worth of scotch and cigars have done to his vocal chords, the constant hoarseness allowing his anger to go unnoticed here.

"Aye, we're no' ready for a bairn, cap - hardly more than kids ourselves," he whines, and not for the first time, John thinks maybe he's right. Except -

"You are an officer. In the S.A.S."

Soap has the decency to blanch, at least. "And tha's another reason! Ah'm ne'er home, cap! The last thing she needs is tae be raising a bairn herself."

John shakes his head, breath puffing out of him like steam. He has an urge to break his stylus in half so instead places it on the desk with unnecessary force. "Son, were you a candy striper when you said those vows?"

"Sir -?"

"Candy striper or a soldier, Soap, what were you?"

John knows his man well enough to spot the deep flush working its way up from under Soap's collar, recognizes the low set of his heavy brow. The way he himself tenses to meet it would be admirable, if not directed at his own subordinate. "A soldier, sir."

"And when you promised that woman kids, were you selling shoes?"

"Ye have a point, ah assume?"

John glowers, unable to even muster the patronizing look he usually adopts for conversations like this. "My point, is I'm not sure what you expected to happen. You gave that woman your name. You made plans for children. So why's it a problem now?" Across the years, an echo of a similar argument rings in his ears, the pleas once used against himself now slotting into place, loaded - fully automatic. He couldn't say why he was helping the man across from him, though. Loyalty, maybe. More likely, his desperate need for closure lies somehow even stronger than his growing desire to rip the other man's relationship apart.

Soap splutters. "It's no' a problem, it's jes' tha' -." He stops, squints, seems to roll his tongue in contemplation. "Well, ye kno' how it is, cap. Ne'er gonnae be the righ' time in this job."

By some miracle, John doesn't take the bait. He takes a deep breath instead, thinks about the favor he'll be able to call in after he tells Kate how level-headed he's being today. "MacTavish," he says patronizingly, revels in the thrumming of a particularly aggressive vein in the boy's bare temple. "I do know how it is, so you can take it from me when I say it will never be the right time. But you can also take it from me that it won't matter to your bird. She is lonely and wants a babe, and you're going to give her one because that is what you promised you would do."

"Will nae," the scott seethes, leaning close across the desk again. "A bairn won't fix anything, cap. She jes' wants -."

There are times when John's ability to command a room - to command unruly gits like the sergeant across from him - takes even him by surprise. It does so now, when his voice curls deep and dark and low and damn near knocks Soap back on his ass. "And something does need fixing, does it?" Johnny just stares at his captain, deflated and lost. John sighs again, drums his thumb on the desk agitatedly, the wood worn from years of use, the same spot weathered by his many frustrations. The fight might have left the sergeant, but John's still desperately searching for something to lay into, his bruised ego telling him Soap's the source of all his troubles and right there, causing yet more. Still, he has to trust the man with his life, and telling Soap if he doesn't fuck a babe into his wife soon John himself will probably isn't conducive to that end so he bites his tongue - literally and figuratively - and drags his seat closer to the desk, works his pent up energy off by planting his boots too aggressively when he spreads his legs. All tells, all things he knows the boy is trained to watch for. His patience has bounds, though, and he couldn't care less if Soap clocked him for it. "If you want my advice, your bird's a soft one. She needs something to care for, so if you won't give her a babe, at least get her a dog."

Soap blinks, leans out of John's space - a subtle bow out he does nothing to make casual. John eats it like paid dues. "Soft," he repeats. John does not close his eyes in frustration, afraid of the supple curves burned into the back of his eyelids which await him there every night, every blink. "A dog?"

"You're familiar, I assume?"

The vein in Soap's temple throbs back to life, but the boy does a decent job of schooling his expression this time. "Aye, ah'm familiar." A beat passes, Soap flicks at John's stylus - likely too deep in thought to worry about the insult of it. John debates kicking his chair over anyway. "Can't have a dog at our place."

"Then buy her a proper house!" John thunders, too frustrated to find Soap's blindsided expression funny.

He regrets it when he gets the home warming invitation in the mail a month later.

#get her a dog #look i remembered to add my taglist link #we'll see if i remember to update it lmao

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marvelnatr · 8 months

Text

Lingering love 18+

Warnings: Dom!Nat, Daddy kink, sub!reader, makeup sex, oral Natasha!receiving, strap on use, size kink, praise, a little mocking, breeding strap & kink.

I know I know. I started classes up again. But I’m getting back into the rhythm. Enjoy this smut as an apology. Not proof read!!!

Natasha’s POV:

“Y/N lets fucking go! We gotta get moving!”. I stood by the loading dock of the Quinn jet as Y/N threw her duffle in her seat beside her. She was visibly annoyed and pouting like a petulant child over the fact she had to do a mission with me. Closing the door I looked at her “look at me Y/N”. The girls eyes stayed trained to the pocket knife she was holding, fiddling with the blade and paying me no mind. Leaning over her I whispered “Y/N please, I don’t wanna be doing this anymore then you do”. I rested my hand on my ex-girlfriends arm, trying to gain a little of her attention, simply for her to shrug me off and go to her armory cabinet. Giving her the space she wanted I headed to pilot the plane.

I’m not surprised she needs space. I honestly thought I’d never see her again, she left the agency four years ago after our breakup. It was only recently Fury had the idea to bring her on this next mission. Y/N was smart and I hated to agree that we needed her expertise. We need someone who was going to always be one step in front of our target in the technological way and Y/N was the best we’d seen since Daisy. Not much about her has changed since she left. Her hair is a bit longer and she’s colder then I remember.

We were headed to Germany for the next two weeks to follow our target. He was good at covering his tracks. Phenomenal even. I put in the address to our safe house in Bremen. Of course Fury put us in the heart of one of the highest crime rated cities. Y/N had finished getting settled in and started reading her book. She used to sit up front with me, she was always mesmerized when it was clear enough to see the illuminated cities below us as we traveled. I miss those times.

- Time Skip -

Landing the Quinn jet in our private air field I turned on cloaking. Getting up and stretching after a long flight felt amazing. Glancing over at Y/N she was dead asleep with her book rested on her chest. Y/N always looked so peaceful when she’d sleep and I always hated waking her up. Sitting beside her I whispered gently “Y/N we’re here”. Shuffling away from me I sighed and placed my hand on her shoulder “Y/N wake up”. Jumping a little she woke up and stared at me. Panic flooded over her face for a second before it subsided. I watched her “I’m sorry hon I didn’t mean to scare you”. Huffing she threw the blanket off her lap and got up “you didn’t and don’t call me hon”. Nodding I watched her, rubbing my hands over my thighs before standing “alright then”.

Out of instinct I went for Y/N’s duffle bag to carry in but she stepped in front of me before I could and grabbed it, slinging the bag over her shoulder and glaring at me “I got it Natasha” nodding a bit I grabbed my own bag then headed to our safe house. After clearing the place I put my bags on the bed, the air was thick with dust as it had been a while since the safe house was used. I pointed to the window closest to Y/N “open that will you? I want air circulating through here”. An eyes roll and a huff later the window was opened, nodding I went into the bedroom, starting to place my weapons on the bed. A few seconds later I heard a grumble and a string of curse words flying from Y/N’s mouth down the hall. Leaning in view of the doorway I called out “what’s wrong?”. Looking at me she grumbled “there’s only one bed”. My eyes traveled to the bed then back to her, i didn’t mind sleeping in the same bed as her but Y/N definitely minded sleeping in the bed with me. Nodding I threw my pillows on the floor “I’ll take the floor”.

The next morning Y/N was up early. Earlier than me. Hearing the door open I grabbed my weapon, quickly turning to the door just to see Y/N standing with coffee. Rolling my eyes I put the gun back in the mid of my back while lightly scolding her “announce yourself when you walk into the house and tell me where you’re going”. Scoffing she sat at the table “no, I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dom”, placing down the knife on the cutting board I turned to her “stop being such a fucking smart ass. I know I’m not your dom. I’m trying to keep us safe. Do as your told”. Shutting up a bit Y/N put sugar in her coffee, stirring the cup as a silence fell over her. I mixed the peppers with the eggs and poured them into the pan “would you like an omelet Y/N?”. Seems that she had elected to ignore me as she brought her coffee to the room. Shaking my head I continued cooking.

A few minutes later I heard the door open again and rolled my eyes “for fucks sake Y/N what did I just say-“ just as I finished my sentence Y/N was in the hallway shooting at the man in our safe house “come on miss black widow fucking help me out here!” Drawing my gun I shot at the mans hand, taking him down then turning my attention to the man who had Y/N in a head lock. Running over to her I took him down as well, Y/N bent over with her hands rested on her knees to catch her breath, wheezing out “I had him”. Rolling my eyes I looked at her for a second scoffing “clearly”. Standing up she rubbed her neck “that was sarcastic” I laughed while checking my magazine and put it back in “no shit”. Y/N stepped over the body and looked at me, clearly she was annoyed. She had no right to be. I saved her ass. Still she spat “will you knock it off? I can handle myself perfectly fine”. Ignoring her I began to pull the weapons off the body “obviously you can’t” . Y/N glared at me then started to leave with gritted teeth, stomping through the house like a petulant child. I watched her, raising my eyebrows and giving her a glare “get your ass back here and help me with these bodies”

-Time skip-

Your POV:

After moving the bodies with Nat I just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. I hated the way she still had a hold of me. The way a part of me still loved her after all these years. Getting up off the bed knocked on the door again “Natasha hurry up I really have to fucking pee”. A few seconds later the door swung open. Nat was wrapped in a towel still drying her hair with the towel. I stared at her for a minute. Inhaling the scent. She didn’t change her perfume. It’s still the same. Snapping her fingers she sang a little “earth to Y/N? Hello??”. The snapping broke me from my thoughts as I watched her “hm what?”. Natasha rolled her eyes “don’t you have to pee?”. Nodding I went passed her “right yeah. Thanks!”.

Finishing up I washed my hands and stared at myself in the mirror, unlocking the door and leaving it slightly open. Natasha came up behind me in sweatpants and a t-shirt “excuse me”, Nat reached under my arm and grabbed her tooth brush, dipping it in the water before swiping toothpaste over it and brushing her teeth. I have no fucking clue how she never made a mess of her mouth, it always baffled me. She’s so fucking pretty. She must’ve noticed me staring cause she raised her eyebrows at me “what is it Y/N?”. Clearing my throat a little I grabbed my hand towel, drying the water off my hands “nothing”. Natasha gave off her infamous smirk, folding her arms over her chest and taking the toothbrush out of her mouth. Looking up at her I tilted my head “what?”. Shaking her head she spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth, never breaking the cocky expression. I pushed her a little “why are you looking at me like that?”. Smirking at me she leaned against the counter “you’re blushing”, I felt my body heat up a little “I am not!”. Laughing nat placed her hand on my arm, teasing me and rubbing with a mocked pouted lip “mmm sure baby sure”

I felt my face heat up at the pet name and pushed her a little “oh shut up”. Laughing again she walked out of the bathroom “whatever you say hotshot”. Once I had finished up in the bathroom I headed to the room to see Nat laying in the bed and watching TV. We had watched TV in silence last night and I didn’t mind it. We liked the same shows. Getting comfy I climbed into bed shivering. It was so fucking cold here and I didnt really pack any warm pajamas. Looking over me Nat grabbed her hoodie and held it out for me. Shaking my head I whispered “I’m okay”, shaking her head she held it out more “take it Y/N, I dont want you getting sick”. Nodding a bit a took it and put it on. Staring at the small smile pulling at Nats lips.

The confession fell from my lips quicker then I could think, playing with my hands I mumbled “I miss you Natasha”. Natasha’s eyes left the screen as she watched me, her eyes pausing to examine me, as if she was unsure I was telling the truth or not. I watched as she processed my words. After a few minutes she sat forward “are you sure Y/N?”. Continuing to play with my fingers I nodded “I miss you. I miss your voice and your touch and your love. We let go too early”. She nodded and opened her arms for me, beckoning me to lay on her chest. Happily I rested my head down, my hand draped over her stomach. I continued to watch her lips. The lump in my throat still too afraid to ask for a kiss. But like always Natasha knew me. Knew my mannerisms. Natasha leaned down, pressing her lips to mine. My world felt whole again.

Natasha’s POV:

Y/N became putty in my lap. Her body sunk into mine as I kissed her. Petting her head I pulled away and whispered “would you like to try again love?” She nodded “hating you was the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done”. Smiling softly I pet her head and whispered “I’m sorry for how I acted years ago, it wasn’t right”. Y/N nodded and whispered “me too, I don’t know what was wrong with me”. Nodding I pet her head “so…what made you want to come back?”, a red tint fell over her cheeks as she whispered “I-I had a few partners….every time we did stuff all I could think about was you”. Jealousy and pride flooded through my body. Y/N wasn’t just my girlfriend she was my sub. I was proud all she thought about was me but the thought of someone else touching her drove me wild. Grabbing her jaw I looked at her “poor thing, I conditioned you didn’t I? Made you so addicted to daddy’s dick it’s all you could think about. You know you always fit me like a sleeve darling” a small whimper fell from her lips as I rubbed her jaw tutting “oh baby, tell me what you want”. Fiddling with her shirt she whispered “I-I want you to fuck me”

Smirking I nodded and rubbed her hip “how do you want me to do that?”. A whimper fell from her lips, I could tell she was getting frustrated. Tears pricked her eyes as I chuckled “oh baby, those pretty tears won’t get you any sympathy. You know I love seeing you cry”. A red tint fell over her cheeks, her eyes continuing to watch her shit. Watching her I snapped my fingers, the noise gaining her attention while I kept hold of her jaw “speak up baby”, I could feel the heat of her cheeks on my hand as she stuttered out “f-fingers and strap”. Nodding I rubbed her cheek “you’ll have to earn it baby, why don’t you go ahead and show me how sorry you are”. Taking off my pajama shorts I watched Y/N, her eyes lit up at the sight of my cunt and I chuckled “come on baby”.

Finding herself between my legs she looked up at me one last time. Nodding I placed my hand on the back of her head, beginning to guide her as she kitten licked my cunt. Her tongue ran through my folds, the feeling earning a moan from my lips. Pleasure surged through my body as I rutted my hips into Y/N’s face. Her moans causing more pleasure as I praised “good girl, fuck you’re doing such a good job for me baby”, I felt her tongue slope into me, my knuckles gripped the sheets while she began to rub my clit “f-fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum”. Gripping her hair into a makeshift ponytail I pulled at her while I came. A moan and a whimper falling from her lips at the newfound pain.

Releasing her hair I smiled down at her “you did such a good job for me love”. A red tint fell over her cheeks as she squirmed. Laughing I leaned forward “so fucking needy huh?”, catching her lip between her teeth she nodded, her embarrassment flooding her face. Sitting up I brought my thumb to her lip, gently pulling it out while whispering “it’s okay sweet girl, I know it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked properly”. Looking up at me Y/N whispered, the sentence barley audible “I’m gonna be really tight…”, clearing my throat a little I rubbed her chin. Of course I wanted to just fuck her with my strap right then and there. Let her feel the pain of the stretch. It’s what she deserves. Especially with the little attitude she gave me earlier. Kissing her gently I whispered “I’m going to get my strap, whatever time I’m gone is the time you have to stretch yourself out. Once I’m back you’re getting fucked”. Y/N quickly brought her hand down to her cunt, working on slipping two fingers in. I admired her for a moment before going to put on my strap. Luckily for her I grabbed the breeding one. And you bet your ass I was going to fill her up.

Walking back into the room a whimper fell from her lips. Chuckling I made my way to the bed then hovered over her. I watched for a minute. The way her chest was rising and falling, how flushed her face was. Stroking my hand over her cheek I smiled “so pretty, so fuckable for daddy hm?” Nodding she whimpered “y-yes daddy”. I sat up on my kneels and pulled her to me by her neck “come here baby, come get daddy nice and wet for you”. Grabbing the faux cock in her hand she began to suck, the job she was doing was damn near sad. Only taking half the dildo in her mouth. I tapped her cheek with my hand, her eyes quickly met mine as I watched her “you know damn well how I taught you to suck dick. Quit the straight shit and suck my strap properly baby. I don’t want to have to help you”. Y/N quickly fixed her mistake and began sucking me properly. Her pretty little gagging noises as tears began to prick her eyes. I could watch her do this all fucking day. Matter of fact she has before. That was a very fun punishment to conduct.

After a few more minutes I pulled her off “lay on your back detka”. Gently she laid down. The wet spot forming on the sheets from her cunt. Tutting I rubbed her hip “such a messy girl already, my poor bunny. So fucking desperate”. I teased the strap over her entrance, slipping the tip of the dildo in just to take it out. Just as she was about to open her mouth in another whiny protest I slipped into her. Filling her in one swift move. A small choked cry mixed with a moan fell from her lips. Leaning over her I kissed her “shhh baby I know, oh I know love, you’re so fucking tight for me”, whimpering she watched me “i-It’s too big daddy, it wont fit” chuckling I rubbed her hip “it’s all the way in bunny, you’re just tight. Don’t worry, daddy will make sure to stretch you out”. Moaning her head fell back into the pillow. My hands made their way to her hips as I lightly pinned her down, beginning to fuck into her. She looked so fucking pretty like this. More moans fell from her lips as she gripped the sheets. Looking at her I mocked a little “what? You’re gonna cum already baby? But daddy just started”. Y/N cried a little and whined “please, please let me cum please”. Tutting I shook my head “no bunny, you’re gonna have to wait, daddy wants to make sure you’re properly bred”

Y/N’s eyes widened in excitement, her cunt clenching around my strap slightly. Smirking I fucked into her “yeah, you want daddy to breed you? Make you mine again?” Another moan fell from her lips as she breathed out “yes daddy please, please fill me up”. Smirking I wrapped my hand around her throat then began fucking her into the mattress. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she began to whimper “p-please, I wanna cum daddy please”, giving in I nodded “cum for me baby, soak the sheets and stop thinking for a while”. Y/N’s back arched as she moaned, her screams ringing throughout the room while I filled her up, degrading her and praising her through it. My cum painting her velvety walls white. “That’s it bunny, my little breeding bitch huh? You’re doing so fucking good for daddy”. Her orgasm was nothing short of beautiful. The way her legs shook. The sounds she made. I stayed inside her while she came down from her high, rubbing her cheek and wiping the tears beginning to stain her face.

After a few minutes I rubbed her cheek “you doing okay love?” A small content hum fell from her lips as she cuddled into me. She’s so floaty and I love it. Gently pulling out I chuckled “alright my floaty girl, let’s get you cleaned up and we can cuddle”. After a nod I picked her up and ran us a bath. Joining her in the tub as he rested on me. After all this time she still fit into me like a puzzle piece. Her body weight was just perfect. I definitely missed my girl.

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