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indigovigilance · 6 months

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Bullet Theory

Thesis: Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet during the Final Fifteen kiss. This bullet contains his memories. He tucked it under his tongue, then began to access the memories during the ride up the elevator.

Edit: debunked by God himself, in response to this post. As a reminder, please don’t send fan theories to NG.

Proof:

Glint in the mouth

Inspo credit to this post by @somehow-a-human

Yeah so we were already paying way too much attention to that very special four-letter word we thought Aziraphale was going to say, but it so happens that during that cut-off phoneme is the only time you can see this shiny object in his mouth. (catching this on the right frame was emotionally painful and I’m sending Gavin Finney my therapy bills (actually no I’m not I love you very much sir)).

So that’s the basis of this theory. Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet that he then tucks under his tongue.

Add’l Evidence Post-Kiss

Aziraphale works his jaw after raising his fingers to his lips: [gif]

Then when the Metatron comes in, he turns his back on the Metatron and raises his hand. I originally thought he was wiping his eyes. Now I think he’s raising his hand to his mouth, maybe to spit out the bullet, maybe to make sure it’s secured under his tongue.

Credits Scene

Aziraphale has the craziest fucking look on his face through the credits, we can all agree. But towards the end, his eyes flicker back and forth, as if he is watching or reading something. Then he smiles. I hypothesize that he is still accessing his memories during this time, and getting the information he needs to [redacted].

Thematic Justification: The Bullet Catch

Aziraphale having a bullet in his mouth as part of a two-man act of deception is not a fresh concept by the time we get to The Final Fifteen.

Additionally, the use of surreptitious modes of communication, where messages are passed from person to person inaudabily, is introduced in this same magic trick.

NB1: I wish I could credit the person who I first saw point this out (relatively recently). It wasn’t even tagged as meta, I don’t think. But the gist was there’s some parallelism between “aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear” and the “pin the lips on the lips” move that Crowley pulls in the Final Fifteen. If I find it I will properly cite.

NB2: One hypothesis that has circulated around, I think creditable to @sendarya, is that Aziraphale mouths “trust me” to Crowley just before he gets on the elevator. This isn’t necessary to the Bullet Theory but it would be thematically consistent.

Small objects carry memories

Why a bullet? Well, it’s a small object that has meaningful significance between the pair of people involved, much like:

Beelzebub introduces us to the idea that a small object like a fly can be used as a storage container for memories. We also see that the object entering the body of the person is a viable way for the memories to be delivered.

(btw Jon Hamm if you’re reading this, you have very pretty eyes)

“I keep a derringer in a hollowed out book”

K, so it’s not like Crowley is just carrying a bullet loaded with Aziraphale’s memories around with him at all times, is it? (I mean, it could be, but probably not. I’ll just point you to this meta for my theories on why, if Crowley had anything that needed to be kept safe, he would keep it in the bookshop.)

We learn in S2E4 that Aziraphale keeps a gun in a hollowed out book somewhere in the shop. A gun wouldn’t be any good without bullets, right? This may not be the reason the derringer was left as a Chekhov’s Gun for S3, but it’s a possibility. If Crowley wasn’t already in possession of a bullet, he knew that he could find one in the shop. Even more likely, the exact bullet used in the 1941 magic trick is a precious keepsake being kept somewhere in the bookshop, and Crowley chose to use that exact bullet because of the memories already directly attached to the object.

Why Aziraphale even has memories to be returned to him

We know that Aziraphale could have had his mind wiped because Heaven has done it before. Certainly once. Probably twice. We know this because when Metatron is announcing that Gabriel, alongside having his memories erased, is being demoted to 38th class, Muriel pipes up and reminds us that they are 37th class:

So this wasn’t a “just Gabriel” thing. Mind-wiping is a routine form of personnel management in Heaven. There is NO reason for us to believe that it didn’t happen to Aziraphale. But in case you need a reason to believe it, here goes:

We know from our interactions with Jim that the person whose memories are missing (1) doesn’t necessarily know and (2) isn’t necessarily distressed by that fact, even if they do. Muriel also fits this “cheerful empty shell” archetype. You know who else does? Ding ding ding. The one and only A. Z. “wiggles with delight” Fell.

I can already hear your very valid counter-argument. This guy is actually terrified out of his mind on any given day that his romance with a demon will be discovered. Yes. Because he’s involved in a romance with a demon. The other two angels we’ve met don’t have this issue. Beyond that, though, these three characters share more in common with each other disposition-wise than any of them do with the other angels we’ve met (Uriel, Michael, Sandolphon, etc.).

We also know that Aziraphale has been [demoted] at some point from Cherub to Principality. This is book canon:

"Technically Aziraphale was a Principality, but people made jokes about that these days."

This has also been confirmed (insofar as Neil Gaiman ever confirms anything) by Word of God:

(marketing video screengrab clipped for brevity)

We don’t know for sure it was a demotion, but I think we have enough evidence to infer that with a high degree of confidence.

Anyways.

Summary: Aziraphale is a cheerful angel who was demoted and has a name that is not biblical canon. This evidence indicates that was probably mind-wiped. This is not the first time I’m proposing this. It won’t be the last.

How Crowley Did It

My meta on Continuity Errors gives the complete proof for why I believe that Crowley is able to stop time without Aziraphale knowing, and I propose in that meta that the kiss was a cover-up for the exertion of effort necessary to pull that off. I further proposed that during the pause, he retrieved something from the bookshop. At the time of writing, I didn’t know what. Now, I have an inkling that it was a bullet.

If you need a refresher on Clock Theory, here’s one. The idea is that the clock behind Aziraphale shifts by fifteen minutes from before the kiss to after the kiss. This is consistent with a theory that Crowley paused time (but the clock kept running) in order to retrieve the bullet, dump Aziraphale’s memories into it if he hadn’t already, and then return to transfer the bullet to Aziraphale.

Why Crowley Kept the Secret So Long

As with Continuity Errors, I am ending this meta with a very unsatisfactory “I don’t know.” The motivation for Crowley to keep Aziraphale’s memories from him until the very moment he’s about to leave must have been a strong one. I think it has something to do with why Crowley was so insistent on trying to get Aziraphale to run away with him, instead of dealing with whatever’s coming. But as with Continuity Errors, I suspect that the good omens meta hivemind (and the vast collection of people who are posting clues, you have no idea how important you are) will assemble yet more breadcrumbs that we can follow to some sort of hypothesis.

Until then,

(here's my meta index if you would like to read more stuff like this)

#good omens meta #bullet theory #the final fifteen #crowley #aziraphale #good omens gabriel #good omens muriel #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens theory #good omens speculation #good omens analysis #good omens clues

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queenendless · 5 months

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Chase (Darth Vader x Fem!Adult!Reader)

A/n: Tales of the Empire gave me ideas. Particularly on a snowy chilly planet ... it's a very open setting as to what is going on in this so bare with me. First time writing SW stuff on here.

So AU with unburnt Vader who's also kinda OOC in this, some fluff and steamy romance with some Anakin at the end, but it's a short ass piece cause of short notice for today.

PLEASE DONT REPOST, EDIT, COPY, PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE AND OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER IF YOU DO ENJOY IT THEN LIKE REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME PLS N THNX.

And May The 4th be with you.

Your cloak blew from the chilly winds.

Your hood covered head raised up to meet at the top of the snowy hill.

Climbing up with the darkening gray storm clouds piling up, heighting the anxious tension filling you up inside, the helmeted figure coming into view struck through your core.

He had pursued after your wandering lost self.

You wanted to see how far he would go, as selfish as that was.

Your fear of the cold blooded, brutal Sith Lord becomes mingled with how you are lustful of his imposing presence.

Your cape fluttered in the blowing cold winds as you hurried away, straight to the ice cave entrance.

He knew you thrive off the chase.

And you knew he was relentless in playing along.

“You cannot run forever, Y/n."

His deep modulated voice bounced off the towering crystal ice walls, using the light shining from the high cracked ceiling to guide you.

“I've come this far.” Your tepid sweet voice echoing back at him had him growling a bit.

“You cannot hide from me.”

You didn't need to be Force sensitive to feel that he was honing in on you quickly.

Your flushed nervous face met your eyes as your bumpy reflection followed your side, his heavy footsteps sounding that much closer. “Doing good so far, all things considered.”

You should have figured uttering those words into existence would jinx your ongoing streak. The moment you stepped back from the dead end and spun around on your heel, you bumped into that armored chest.

You screamed a bit as his leather black gloves grabbed your forearms and pinned you to the wall gently but firmly.

His red lenses hid his eyes boring into your very soul, his giant frame enveloping you, pressing you carefully against the alien texture. His heavy breathing made your breathing go silent like a scared mouse, caught by the big bad beast.

“The game is over.” For some reason, he sounded so smug about it.

“You're unbelievable.” You pouted up at that obsidian face.

“You're foolish.” He scoffed.

“Says the man wearing the robot suit.”

The fact that he released his grip on you and leaned back a bit to actually take off that intimidating helmet still took your breath away.

“It helps with the image.” To hear that warm enriching amused voice again already had you giggling as your hands cupped his sculpted cheeks to pull his face down to peck those tempting lips.

His helmet clanked along the ground as his arms slithered around your waist to lift you off the ground, grinning slyly to you hugging his waist in response.

“It's working, my Lord.” You shakily spoke, weaving through that shoulder length darkened hair to tug him closer, pecking many a time quite desperately.

“This little ploy of yours has gotten us completely off track.” His husky tone was sheer evidence that he did not give a damn. Not one bit.

“Forgive me, Lord Vader, for my teasing.”

You squeaked as those giant leather hands of his cupped and squeezed your ass.

“I shall have to punish you, my dear. Quite thoroughly~” Those blue eyes were riddled with devious intention, marking your neck with ferocious bites along your delectable skin.

Your fevered gasps and lecherous cries traveled the caves as you became a mess under his wet steamy mouth. “A – Ani~!”

The former Jedi turned Sith Lord smirked, devouring your mouth with that needy tongue of his.

“Hush, my love. We're just getting started.”

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schrodinger-swriter · 7 months

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for the fluff prompt may i request number 14 (soulmate au) with lucifer please??

thank you i hope you have a wonderful day/night :) <3

Prompt 12 with Lucifer

Last request in the inbox, at least currently! I think I may lay down after writing this, I hope you all don't mind the mini lightning round of writing I've just pumped out!

I hope you enjoy, Anon! C:

EDIT: We got the numbers mixed up, Anon! Soulmate au is 12, prompt 14 is the break up prompt! Sorry for the mix up, everyone!

SOULMATE AU:

You both share taste. You've been in a long established relationship by this point but sometimes you butt heads over treats. Whatever you eat he can taste, and the reverse is true as well. You are both bound to come across a food the other doesn't much enjoy... but he would sacrifice himself to let you enjoy your treats... just don't do it everyday, please! It does bring in an interesting concept, imagine if the reader is allergic to something but they've always wanted to try the thing... well now you can do it without risk! Lucifer would drop everything to let you experience whatever you'd like.. even if it's as small as eating some peanut butter or something. It's rather sweet, actually. The gestures. It's something so small, so hard to pin point a soulmate through just that alone... in fact you two have probably got together and realized it not long after. Something silly, like your clown ringmaster husband. Who you love, of course.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer x you

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kissesforsatoru · 1 year

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Yandere Ran tying up his virgin girlfriend who never even had a boyfriend and finally agreed to sleep with Ran after waiting for 4 months 👉🏼👈🏼

TIE ME UP, LAY ME DOWN | wc : 3.4k

HAITANI RAN x FEM!READER

₊˚⌗ ran has been so patient. so, so reassuring and attentive with you. he deserves a nice little reward, and you give it to him in the form of fluffy, purple handcuffs.

⤷ cw : NSFW 18+, general yandere themes, thoughts about non-con but no actual non-con, bondage (handcuffs), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, ran has a big dick, dirty talk, virgin! reader, somewhat shy reader turned into a slut, ran is a tease, but so is reader lowkey, praise, he calls you a good girl a few times, use of pet names (baby, pretty girl, sweet thing, and reader calls ran "ran baby"), way too much kissing, not joking guys there's a shit ton of kissing, bad grammar. this is not edited. please let me know if i missed anything.

note : pls pls ignore how bad the layout is on pc, i don't know why it looks like that and i can't figure out how to fix it 😭

ran loves to kiss you.

he loves the feeling of your lips against his, with you shyly following along ‘cause you've never done this shit before. he loves your cute little noises whenever he presses into you a little too aggressively or licks along your lips for you to open up. he loves the feeling of your body under him, the warmth of you and the way you squirm cause the kiss is just too much for you to handle. he especially loves the taste of you. he goes crazy whenever you give him a little passage, parting your pretty lips for him to delve his tongue inside and lap and taste and savor how fucking delicious you are. and god, you’re the most delicious thing ran has ever tasted.

he gets so fucking turned on whenever he kisses you, and it drives him crazy. he's never gotten so hard from a little kissing before, but you– you make him feel like his dick is gonna fall off because of how hard it is.

you never let him go too far though, never let him get past a barely heated make out before you start pushing at his chest and grabbing at his arms that've dipped under your shirt, telling him that you aren't ready.

ran loves you, he's downright crazy about you, really, but he'll really die if he has to shamefully go jack himself off while thinking of all the nasty things he wants to do to you one more time. it’s not good enough; his hand and thoughts can only do so much compared to the real thing that he’s fantasized about plenty. he wants to utterly ruin you, but you just won't let him.

he’s had thoughts in passing to just pretend he doesn’t hear you when you tell him to stop, let himself get lost in you, kiss his way down your body, pin you under him and shove his cock all the way in and fuck you nice and rough. whisper dirty things in your ear and humiliate you till you’re crying as you cream around his cock. but ran knows that you would hate him if he did that, and that kills him. he’s got you right where he wants you, and he refuses to ruin that because he’s horny. abnormally horny, yes, but sex still isn’t worth his relationship with you. he’s worked too damn hard to convince you that he’s not a playboy using you for sex for him to go and do exactly that.

so, whenever you tell him not yet, he pulls away, withdrawals his hands from your godsent body, kisses you sweetly on your forehead and then tells you, it’s okay baby, we can wait as long as you need. even if it’s bullshit and he really can’t fucking wait to have his cock buried deep inside of you, he still says it, reassures you as much as you need. he wants you comfortable with him, wants you to trust him so that he can finally have his way with you sooner than later.

it’s another one of those times where he’s got you pressed under him on the bed and he just can’t get enough of you, licking messily into your mouth and pushing his hands under your shirt to knead your soft, plush skin. you’re whining and squirming, as you always do, trying to kiss him back the best you can, but his kiss is imposing, too needy and too fast for you to really keep up. you’re still pliant though, allowing him to rub his hands on your hips and kiss into you roughly, groaning when you run your hands through his hair and tug gently.

he thinks you’ve come an awful long way from when the two of you first started dating at least. you never used to feel him up or pull him closer, just shyly grab at his shoulders as he kisses you, but now you’ve gotten so bold to tug on his hair when you know how riled up that gets him; it drawls out fluttery moans from him that make you sigh a laugh as you melt even more into the kiss. as much as he loves the feeling though, he hates it when you do that because of how turned on it makes him. you get him all fucked up just to deny him the next second.

he jokes to you all the time about how damn cruel you can be to do that to him, but you always tell him you promise you’ll make it worth his while one of these days. he’s damn set on holding you to that.

“mmh– ran baby, hang on a sec,” you struggle to say through kisses. ran doesn’t pull away still at your protest; he crawls further on top of you, pressing himself against you as he squeezes your hips and keeps placing wet kisses to your mouth. it’s not until you gently push on his shoulders that he groans and finally sits up, looking down at you with a cute little pout.

“’m sorry, just… just hang on a sec,” you say to him as you push yourself up too, panting softly.

“too much? wanna stop already?” he asks you, a disappointed lilt emerging his tone. you shake your head curtly before pushing yourself off the bed. Ran quickly grabs onto your wrists and tugs you back.

“where ya goin’ then, pretty girl?”

“got’ya something. just wait here.”

“give it t’ me later. ‘m not done kissin’ you,” he drawls as he pulls you closer to place kiss you, leaning further towards you to deepen it, but you pull away and push at his hand to let go of your wrist.

“promise i’ll be quick and you’re really gonna like it. we can, uh, kiss some more when i get back,” you scamper out of the room before ran can grab onto you again, hands on your cheeks to feel how warm they are. kissing just gets you so flustered every time, ran does it so sensually and imposingly that it makes you wanna squeal. the warmth in your cheeks only blazes more when you pull out what you got for your boyfriend from the shopping bag, realizing that kissing isn’t the only thing you’ll be doing tonight.

your stomach flutters as you nervously walk back into the room to see ran laying back on the bed. he sits back up and wraps his arms around your waist when you crawl onto his lap, ready to get back to kissing you already, but you hold out a pair of purple, fluffy hand cuffs in front of his face before he can. he takes them from you, looks at them for a second, and then at you with a raised eyebrow.

“baby, what the fuck? what’re these for?”

“saw ‘em in your cart on that porn website when you let me use your computer the other day,” you say looking away from him, “and, uh, i wanna… i wanna try them with you,” you whisper the last part, playing with your fingers to distract yourself from the absolute embarrassment you’re feeling.

“oh yeah?” he smirks, “who knew my sweet little girlfriend was into bondage?”

“ran!” you gasp, smacking his shoulder lightly as you huff angrily, and he laughs.

“what else you wanna do then, baby? you get these just f’me to cuff you or were you hopin’ for somethin’ else to happen too?” he kisses you softly along your shoulder and collarbone, looking up at you through his long, pretty lashes, waiting for you to answer. a fluttery sigh leaves your lips when one of his hands pushes under your shirt and rubs on your hip, while the other rubs on your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy that’s already fluttering in anticipation.

“please don’t make me say it,” you whine, placing your hands gently over his eyes. the way he looks at you jostles all of your feelings and makes your body go haywire—you don’t want him looking at you like that when you’re already so turned on just by the idea of him fucking you tonight. it’s too embarrassing for you to handle.

you squeal when ran suddenly flips the both of you over so you’re now laying under him. he kisses more along your neck and up to behind your ear where he nibbles and licks, drawing out an airy moan from you.

“c’mon, baby, you have t’ say it if you want it,” he coaxes, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away to look down at you. his hands are still on you, distracting you from your racing thoughts.

you gulp thickly, and then, “please, ran,” you shiver feeling his cold fingers graze along your tummy just above the hem of your shorts teasingly, and he smirks lazily down at you. you gulp again, “want you t’ touch me.”

ran gently takes your wrists into his hands and clicks the hand cuffs around them, securing them around your wrist to a comfortable tightness before putting them down back on the bed above your head, “i won’t bind your hands to the bed this time, so just be a good girl and keep your hands there 'til 'm done. if y’ move ‘em, i’ll haf’ta punish you, y’ understand?” you whimper softly as you nod your head and ran promptly grabs at the juncture between your neck and chin, squeezing lightly in warning, “words, pretty girl. need you t' use your words.”

“yes, i understand,” you whisper shyly, jutting out your lip in a pout, but ran only kisses you, whispering praises against your lips for obeying him.

pulling away from you, ran crawls down your body, pushing up your shirt as he does. he takes a handful of one of your boobs before leaning down and placing gentle kisses on your tummy, just above the hem of the spandex shorts you’ve got on. you hum as your stomach flutters whenever his lips graze lightly against a sensitive area. he slowly trails kisses further down, kisses just above your pussy and along your thighs, until finally, he places a drawn-out kiss on your clothed clit.

an airy gasp escapes your lips that quickly turns into a dreamy moan when rans tongue dips out and licks a small stripe over your clit. you get the urge to move your hands already, wanting to grab onto him and threat your fingers through his hair, but you don't; instead, you squirm and huff as he continues to press his tongue into you and lick, now going from your entrance to the very top of your cunt.

you feel him smirk as he kisses your clit on last time before pulling away, "sensitive already and i've barely done shit. you really are a virgin, aren't y' baby?" he teases, and you pout.

"jus' feels good, don't tease me," you huff.

"'m not baby, jus' means 'm the only one that gets to make y' feel good," he hums and then taps on your thigh, "now, lift your legs f'me so i can take off your shorts 'nd panties." you do as he says and he coos good girl as he pulls your clothes off your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor.

your nerves rear up again as he looks down at you, and you have half a mind to close your legs and hide yourself from him, but his hands ar planted firmly on your thighs, keeping your legs open. you watch shyly as he licks his lips and settles himself between your legs, his face right in front of your glistening pussy. you jolt and shiver feeling the warmth of his breath fan across your sensitivity.

"such a pretty pussy, and 'ts all f'me" he whispers, and then his mouth is on you, latching onto your clit and sucking--hard. almost, almost your hands move from where they lay on the bed, be the warning from earlier rings in your mind, making you clasp your hands together and push them into the bed. you know if you move he'll stop eating you out. the pleasure coursing through your body as he laps and sucks and slobbers all over your cunt feels too damn good to give up.

ran wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you further into his mouth, drawing more moans from you. his tongue dips into your entrance for just a second before he pulls it out and drags it between your lips to latch back onto your clit where his tongue swirls around and presses into it. your slick mixed with his spit makes all kinds of disgusting sultry noises that are exaggerated as he slurps up all of your juices.

it's not long before you feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, coiling up tightly until you're pushed over the edge and your hips are convulsing against rans mouth. "ran- shitshitshit," you moan out his name as you close your eyes and allow the pleasure to overtake you, but even as you orgasm ran doesn't pull away; he continues lapping at you lazily, enjoying the way your body jolts whenever his tongue rolls over your clit. he only does pull away when you finally come down and sink into the bed with a sigh.

"you taste so damn good, baby. y' wanna taste?" he asks, pushes himself up and crawls over your limp body to kiss you on your mouth, shoving his tongue inside for you to taste yourself on him. bitter, you think, but your pleasure high spurs you on to kiss him back, whimpering softly into the kiss from how sensitive you are.

when he pulls away, he smirks down at you, "you look so fuckin' lewd right now, you know that pretty girl? never thought i'd see y' like this, but fuck do i love it," he says and you fluster, moving your hands finally to cover your face from him. he clicks his tongue.

"hey, didn't i tell y' not t' move your hands, hm? 'm not done with y' just yet, sweet thing," he drawls, hooking his thumb under the chain of the cuffs to push your hands back against the bed, "gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now, can't wait any longer t' be inside y'," you moan when his free hand cups your pussy and he smirks, sitting up to take off his own clothes. his shirt is already off, he rarely has one on when he's with you cause you like his tattoo, and his sweats come off easily, exposing his long, thick cock to you.

you quickly gain coherency back as you stare at him wide eyes. you knew your boyfriend was big, but not this big. "ran baby, will it fit...? 'ts... big." you say as ran tosses his pants in the same place he threw yours and crawls back over you, gently pushing you back into the bed.

"'course it will, baby. I'll make it fit," he says and hum skeptically. "don't worry, i'll be gentle," he tells you, dipping down to kiss you sweetly on your lips. you feel his cock press against your entrance, and you squeak, trying to pull away to see what he's doing, but he only pushes his mouth harder against yours. he enters you slowly and gets halfway in before he stops pulls away from the kiss.

"holy shit, baby, you're so fuckin' tight," he groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, "you gotta relax or my dick 'll fall off," he tells you, kissing lightly at your neck and rubbing softly on your thigh to ease and soothe you a little bit. you breath softly and try your best to relax, and within a few seconds he gets back to pushing into you until the base of his cock presses into you.

"ohhh," you moan softly as he drags his cock back out and then shoves it back in all the way to the base, and then he does it again and again. his pace starts out slow, but he quickly loses himself in your warmth and fucks you faster and faster with each thrust, your sweet moans of his name and babbles of 'so good, keep goin'' spurring him on more.

ran pulls out of your neck and sits up, one of his hands coming to grab at your hips to guide your body along with his thrusts, while the other gathers your wrists and pins them further into the bed as he fucks into you. the new position allows his cock to stroke deeper inside of you, only coaxing more delicious moans from you that ran eagerly swallows up into a kiss.

"so fuckin' wet f'me," he slurs, pulling away to look between the two at the squelching mess of slick and precum smeared all over the both of you, "shit-hah-y' love my cock that much, pretty girl? y're suckin' me back in ever time i pull out," he grunts out and you swallow hard, nodding eagerly, babbling about how much you adore his cock drilling into you in all of the right ways.

you feel drunk on pleasure, drunk on his cock. the way he fills you all the way up, pushes his cock deep inside of you, stretching your pussy around him, feels so fucking good you can't help but choke on your moans, spilling disgustingly loud from your lips, making you sound like a proper whore from a porn video.

"ran, please," you say between moans, your eyes rolling back at a particularly rough thrust, "keep makin' me feel good, please don't stop- gods, ran, y're so deep," you whine, panting hard as you look up at him in time to see his eyes glaze over with unadulterated lust. his grip on your wrists and hips tightens as he pulls out and plunges back into you again at an angle, hitting a spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

"fuck- y' sound so fuckin' sexy when y' beg me like that, baby," he all but growls, his head falling back as he groans in pleasure. both of you are panting heavily, but the noises are easily drowned out by the slap of skin against skin, and the nasty slosh of all of sweat and sex; it's downright nasty, but the pleasure you feel is too good, too mind fogging for you to really give a shit about what kind of noises the two of you are making.

"ah-shit, 'm gonna cum soon," he tells you, voice straining, "y' gonna cum too, baby? y' wanna cum f'me?" he asks, leaning back down into your neck to inhale your delicious scent as he humps messily into you, grinding his hips on yours to create even more stimulation. he lets go of both your wrists and hips to push hus arms under you and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him into a tight hug as he continues jutting into you.

"fuck, yes, ‘m cumming!" you moan, feeling your walls tighten around his cock. you wrap your legs around his waist as your body begins to writhe, and you orgasm for the second time that night, your body jolting every time his hips rub into your sensitive, worn clit.

as you come down from your high, your pussy pulsates around him and he grunts, quickly letting you go and pulling out to cum hotly on your stomach. you hum and flutter your eyes as you watch him fists his cock, milking it of every last drop of cum. when he's done, he sighs and falls back into you, uncaring of the sticky mess between the two of you.

"god, knew y'd feel good, but shit, i don't think i've cum so hard in my life," he says, still breathing heavily against your warm and tingling skin. you bring your cuffed hands up to stroke his head gently, soothing him for all of his hard work at making you feel good.

"ran baby, can you please take these handcuffs off me before you get comfortable and fall asleep?" you ask him and he shifts to look at you, smirking.

"mm, i dunno, baby, i kinda like you all bound for me. you'll have t' beg me t' take 'em off," he says, and you gasp, smacking him lightly on the shoulder, drawing out a raspy laugh from him as he pushes himself up to take off the cuffs.

623 notes · View notes

fallstaticexit · 3 months

Text

Mama bears, Lyric and Kris are checking out a new after school program for their son, Mateo. The thing Lyric loves about the city life is all the diversity there. Putting Mateo's needs first is her biggest priority. At first she was concerned if the program would be a sensory hellscape for Mateo but their 9 year old found a way to express his interest in something new. ....and then Lyric got a text from her mother. Great.

Lot Credit 💜 Ty, it’s stunning!

Note: So I've actually decided I am going to make Missing Moments a spin off series of COTF that shows the very human and Briar-esque life of the rest of the Briar family! Some events will tie with COTF appropriately and there may be an easter egg or two but MM is it's own thing. I have no real plan per say plot wise, this is semi gameplay driven like the original Briar Legacy on TikTok was and I plan to update between COTF posts, much like my Quinn save. There will be a lot of flashbacks and filling in gaps for the Briars over their life , hence the Missing Moments. We also see some beloved characters return in these flashbacks as I flesh out their stories. So sit back and relax and enjoy the ride with me! These take very little editing and dialogue so updates may be frequent and I may post twice a day even. Just be sure to check out the Missing Moments tag in my pinned post <3 :)

Prev/Next / Extras

#gif warning #Missing Moments #the briar legacy #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 #ts4 simblr #sims 4 legacy

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wonwooslibrary · 1 year

Text

svt as boyfriends ♡ jeonghan edition

member: yoon jeonghan genre: fluff, bullet points, established relationship word count: 668 summary: jeonghan's boyfriend things <3 warnings: none! author's note: i totally forgot to write this oops but heeeey it's done and it's jeonghan's turn! school has been a lot so i'm sorry that I haven't been posting as much </3 I'm trying to write more in my free time so we'll see :O

I feel like Jeonghan would be the “silent boyfriend”

Jeonghan gives the perfect college boyfriend vibes and I love that for him idk

Quality Time

Jeonghan slays so hard at quality time

As I said, Jeonghan gives college bf vibes and it’s totally because of his love of quality time!

When you are doing work, he’d totally agree to sit with you somewhere on campus or in a local cafe to study with you and help you memorize terms for your next exam!

If you don’t go to school, he’d totally help you with your work projects too!!!

If you don’t have work projects either, he’d just be there for you if you are having a rough day, just as someone to lean on and to listen to you talk <3

He’s so caring I love him

He would also definitely love to go on night walks with you when it’s late! He would totally find a spot where y’all can see the stars and take you there so you can stargaze and share some snacks

Words of Affirmation

Jeonghan is totally a “sweetie” or “baby” kind of guy and you cannot change my mind about it at all

I can imagine Jeonghan coming home from a long practice or something and finding you in the living room. He’d sit next to you on the couch and lean against you and be all like, “Hi baby, how was your day?”

(I’d actually scream pls)

He would always say sweet things to you like “I missed you, baby” or “I love spending time with you” aaaaaa

Jeonghan is a compliment machine so never think he would keep his thoughts to himself

“Sweetie, I love the outfit you wore the other day! It looked perfect on you”

(sobbing)

Physical Touch

Jeonghan obsessed with little or light touches

Loves holding hands when you’re waiting in line for something, or resting his hand on your knee when you’re sitting together on public transport

And of course don’t forget about the back hugs when you’re doing something like dishes, brushing your teeth or literally just standing and texting your friend back

Head pats !!! Loves just patting your head and combing through your hair slightly

Y’all would be the couple that I strive to be a part of in my dreams

Just imagine Jeonghan being a cuddly bf :(

Acts of Service

Helping you brush and do your hair!!! He definitely knows how to braid so imagine all the cool stuff he could do

And if you have short hair, don’t fear: he’s got the butterfly clips all prepared just to be silly

Definitely helps you with chores when you are busy or need to just take a break from existing

Likes driving you places, even if you are a better driver and also enjoy driving

He just likes making sure you get places safely and also don’t have to stress yourself out from how bad the traffic can be

He also just likes letting you be in control of his radio

Gift Giving

He would totally go to your favorite cafe or bakery in the morning and get your favorite treat and bring it back while you’re still sleeping so when you wake up, you get something amazing from him !!!

Spoils you all the time but instead of it being jewelry or something expensive, he just gets you small trinkets

Totally buys you pins for your bag when he goes literally anywhere

Also loves to get you little decorations for your place: including stuffed animals, one being an extremely soft lamb that you decided to name Mareep, like the Pokemon

Now, for something like holidays and your birthday, he would get something more sentimental, like matching bracelets or something!!!

He would want to get something for the both of you that he can still wear during practice, photoshoots and when he’s filming literally anything

Even if the audience doesn’t know what it symbolizes, he would know and that's very soft boyfriend of him <3

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jintaka-hane · 12 days

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List of WIIIIIPs 📜

Helloooo!

Summer and the holidays have been a whirlwind of ideas and creativity for me. I had three weeks off where I finally managed to bring to life several fics that had been floating around in my head, featuring characters completely new to me. That was SO MUCH FUN! 😂 But now that my vacation is coming to an end and I’m getting back to the daily grind 😮‍💨, I’ve still got some WIPs I’d really love to finish. So, to motivate myself to actually get them done, I’m dropping my list here as a little self-pressure. 💪🏻

Without further ado… here are the silly ideas I’m working on that I’d like to upload here over the next few months!

Benn Beckman x shy f!reader

My first request! shy f!reader; forced proximity; awkwardness; humor; nudity but not explicit. Coming out very soon (I'm editing it ✍🏻).

Benn Beckman x friend f!reader

Self indulgent fic! VERY MUCH NSFW 🔞; friendship; needy Beck; helping relax each other.

Eustass Kid x f!reader

NSFW 🔞; omegaverse; alpha!kid x omega f!reader; rivals to lovers; marking; knotting; heat; rut; humor; Kid is inexperienced and stubborn; clumsiness; brutality and cuteness at the same time.

Kid Pirates

Protecting each other, friendship, don't insult my friend thing, very short tempered captain.

Heat x Tobiuo (@fanaticsnail OC)

Friends to lovers, a bit of angst, pinning, confessions of love and kissing. Cute. Intended for the 1st NOV!

Let's get to work! ✍🏻🫡

#one piece #x reader #jintaka wip

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hm? A note?

*opens the note and reads*

“I kindly request a Pheromones but with Tech with a mix of predator and prey into this nasty smut. But if you do not want to do this that is fine with me your majesty.”

Finally! Someone's asking me for unhinged Tech Smut 🔥🤩🔥🥵 I feel like I've waited for this one for years 😱

And I had so much trouble writing and editing my draft 😅😭 A lot of hours later: "I'm not happy with what I did here 😓

Warnings: SMUT/Sex Pollen Trope/Unhinged Tech/ Shy Tech Turning Feral/Dubious Consent(!11!1!!)/PiV/Oral/Groping/Biting/Pining/Pinning Down/Restraining/Plus Short Dirty Dream Sequence/Angsty/Creampie/Messy/Fluff (Believe it or not)18+

_____________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_____________

>Master List<

____________________

AC: This is very feral Tech, Reader is definitely having fun, but there are possible triggers, so mind the warnings!!! This one is dancing heavily on some very thin lines concerning consent and pleasure/pain. I wasn't even sure if I should post this. Guess there was a lot of pent-up smutty stuff left in my mind about this guy. Okay I tamed the original version down, a good bit, I think it was a tiny bit too much. But still, this is pretty messy.

Update: damn it, I changed this draft so often now, I don't know if it's still readable...

_____________________

Wrecker, who playfully bumps into his helmet, nearly knocks Tech off balance. Tech glares angrily at his brother through the lenses of his goggles, but finally sighs and turns back to his holopad. Again and again, his gaze sneaks from his holopad to you, watching Hunter talk to you. Today, you and Tech are to complete a mission, just the two of you. A more or less simple exploration tour. His heart beats faster just thinking about it. You've been traveling with CF99 for a while now, and Tech has had a crush on you practically since day one. You smell good, you're pretty, you're curious, and you always listen to him so intently. He's been blown away from the beginning by your little laugh, the smile, the way you talk, how your fingers move when you're lost in your thoughts. Tech takes in so many little things, by now he knows so much about you, so many wonderful little things that he admires, almost idolizes. But as straightforward and logical as Tech actually is, he can be just as shy.

He hardly dares to exchange a word with you that has nothing to do with work, he hardly dares to look you in the face. So often he has dreamed of you, of touching, kissing and even more, things that have done wild things to his mind and hormones. But he can't bring himself to do it, just doesn't dare touch you. So many times he had been close to just gently touching your hand, or sliding a little closer when you were sitting next to each other, but each time he has backed down. Tech wouldn't know how to deal with you, in theory he's already read everything there is to know about intimacy, romance and the like, but the practice is somehow so damn seductive but also so incredibly scary for him. What if you reject him? What if he kisses you, and it's bad? What if you feel nothing when he kisses you? What if his touches leave you cold? What if he does something wrong, scares you away, or leaves you unsatisfied? With all these questions, his guts tighten, and a heavy pressure builds on his chest. This is a challenge that can't necessarily be tackled with logic. Love doesn't really feel logical, but it feels intense, Tech thinks silently. Another light bump against Tech's helmet snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Cut it out, Wrecker!" "Come on, you two finally alone again? This time you have some guts!" the giant rumbles. Tech hastily glances over at you, but you're still engaged in conversation with Hunter, then he looks at Wrecker and nervously waves his holopad around. "Keep it down, Wrecker, she can't hear this!" he whispers energetically. Wrecker rolls his eyes and laughs softly, "You're way too nervous, I think she likes you a lot too" Tech pauses in his tense movement and asks, "Oh yeah, did she say anything?" "No, but that one particular smile, she only smiles at you like that". Tech's gaze darts back in your direction and that's when he sees it, that smile, his face gets all hot, and he hastily turns back to the holopad in his hands. "You're such an idiot," Wrecker grumbles, "She's smiling heavenly at you, and you're staring at your holopad" "Shut up, please, Wrecker," Tech says tensely.

The others are on their way, doing their jobs. Tech is finally alone with you. His knees are soft, he feels slightly shaky, and his pulse is permanently slightly elevated, but he's more in control than he suspected. Tech puts on the helmet he customized for you and says, "This helmet has an air filter, just like mine. We don't know what to expect yet, so we'll play it safe." He explains as you look at him questioningly through the visor. He can't really see your face, but he always senses when you look at him. Actually he is annoyed about the helmet, just because he can't see your beautiful face, but Tech also wants to protect you and when you are moving among unknown flora and fauna, this helmet is actually indispensable. "Okay," you say, groping for the helmet with both hands, an unfamiliar feeling. "Don't take the helmet off outside, please," Tech says gently but firmly, "We don't know much about the plants and animals in the area yet" You give him a thumbs up and say, "Okay, got it. We're good to go as far as I'm concerned" Along the way, you carefully take some samples of various plants, take holo-images of the environment, and look at various species of animals from a safe distance. You listen with fascination as Tech comments on some of your observations. It's so nice to spend time alone with him, you like the way he looks out for you.

You discover a cave that is riddled with glowing crystals and mushrooms. You put on your gloves because Tech told you to. "We'd better not touch anything with our bare hands for now," he notes. You nod and reply, "Sounds reasonable." With a gloved finger, you poke a neon-red glowing, thick mushroom, which then begins to blink and emit a thin cloud of spores. Tech leans over and says, "See, this is why we have the helmets, we don't know what these spores might do, hallucinations, fevers, toxic reactions..." You nod and say still intrigued, "It's blinking, like an alarm light" "Indeed" Tech looks at his watch and says, "We've been walking for a few hours, maybe we should head back" With a nod, you agree and follow him out of the cave.

Something is wrong, he is way too warm, the outside temperatures are not that high, but his body temperature seems to keep rising. He feels strange, maybe Wrecker knocked his helmet a few too many times, maybe his filter wasn't working properly. Tech quickened his steps, and you tried to keep up with him in surprise. Arriving at the Marauder, Tech takes off his helmet, and you can tell something is wrong, the expression on his face, that slightly glazed look. "Are you okay?" "I don't know," Tech admits, "I'm very warm, and I have a headache." He blinks in surprise as you start to help him take off his gear, but he allows it to happen, he also lets you push him into his bunk and tuck him in. "You must be overworked," you say gently, "You're always working, around the clock. At some point, your body just can't keep up with your mind, Tech." He blinks, accepts the water you brought him, and says, "Maybe you're right." He likes the way you take care of him, fluffing his pillow, covering him up, bringing him water and putting a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. He feels miserable right now, but he literally melts at every little thing you do for him.

"I'm sure a few hours of sleep will do you good," you say with conviction and a soft smile. Tech looks at you from wide, glassy eyes, he gets lost in that smile of yours, and before he can pull himself together he says, "Can you stay here, with me?" "Oh," you say in surprise, "Sure." You lie down in the bunk across from his, barely two steps away from him. Tech turns to the side, so he can look at you. You say with a smile, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you". Tech's ears turn red as he smiles back. At a certain point, you both fall asleep.

His dreams are wild, very wild, much wilder than usual. Intimate dreams are not unknown to him, but this one is very intense. He watches you suck him while his hands on the back of your head give you a wild pace, shortly after he pins you to the floor and plows his hard cock through your pussy while you gasp, sigh, moan and whimper under him. Then he spins you around and shoves his length into the tight little hole between your buns, taking you so fast and hard that the clash of bare skin, echoes loudly off the walls. His hand is in your hair, pulling at it as he thrusts ever more savagely into the tightness of your butt. Tech tears open his eyes, feeling even hotter than before, his thoughts a wild jumble of sexual acts. His cock pulses hard under his blacks, almost painfully. Everything inside him burns and screams to grab you, to take you, to taste you, to fuck you. He moans softly and wipes his forehead, a very small part of him knowing that he's thinking and intending very naughty things right now, that he actually needs to pull himself together. But this small part is lost in the wild, feverish racket of his suddenly felt hundredfold intensified sexual desires.

He is so tense with horniness that a slight tremor goes through his body. He looks over at you, you are still asleep, you are still alone and will probably be for a while. Automatically, almost of his own accord, he takes off his blacks. He looks down at himself, he doesn't see much, it's still dark, but his cock is clearly standing at full size. Against all reason that tries to survive somewhere under the wild chaos of sex thoughts, he walks over to the bunk you are lying in. In between he hesitates, this little part of him is only small, but stubborn. "You can't do that, it's indecent, you'll scare her... it's wrong..." he whispers to himself, and yet he keeps coming closer to you.

You feel someone climb into your bunk or sit on the edge and slowly awaken from your slumber. Your eyes do not immediately adjust to the darkness. You blink, there is someone, in your bunk, you are uncovered and that someone is bent over you. "Tech? Is that you?" you ask, confused and not yet in your right mind. Your fingers grope for the nightlight and turn it on. It's not particularly bright, but enough to clearly see the naked Tech kneeling above you on your bunk. Your gaze lingers briefly on his hard length, thick, long, gently curved, the tip slightly red and swollen, a trickle of precum on the small slit. You look up at him, startled. "What's going on here?" you ask, perplexed, completely bewildered by the unexpected situation. He's not touching you yet, but you can still feel his body heat already. "Tech, you must have a fever- wait what are you doing!" Ignoring your words, Tech reaches under your sleep shirt for the waistband of your panties and sets about pulling them down. "Need you, need to smell you, taste you, feel you," he stammers as if delirious with fever.

When you automatically grab his hands in surprise to stop him, he fends you off and tugs impatiently at the fabric until it tears. You let out a startled little scream as he rips the fabric from your body, and right after that, impatiently, your sleep shirt. His eyes get even bigger behind the lenses as he sees you naked in front of him. "Tech, what are you doing....?" you ask quietly. He grabs your wrists, rips a strip off the sheet and goes to tie your hands together, but you fidget and stubbornly resist. He grabs your hands and pins them down, glaring at you impatiently. "Tech, what the fuck!" "Need you, need you to comply," he says hoarsely. "I don't understand," you say quietly. He looks at you, feverish, almost desperate, "I need to taste you and smell you and feel you, I need to have you!"

His words make you nervous, it doesn't sound like him at all, neither the pitch nor the way he said them.

Tech smells your hair and shivers, as do you. You feel his legs pushing your thighs apart, his pelvis thrusting between them and his cock pressing down on your pubic, rubbing against it. You let out a small surprised moan as the friction drives heat and wetness into your pussy.

He moans softly and repeats, "I need you." You've been into Tech for a while, but this wasn't really Tech, was it? Again he tries to bind your wrists, this time he's faster, and a little rougher, overpowering your flagging resistance and finally tying them to the headboard of the bunk. Your pulse races, your heart hammers in your chest. A startled, surprised squeak comes from your lips as he presses up against you, and dig his teeth into your shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt you, but hard enough to leave pressure marks. He licks over the spot, kissing it as his hands travel down your body. You're hot and cold, thoroughly aroused, but this seems so foreign. His body is burning hot, you are sure he has a fever. You want to tell him that he needs a doctor, but at the same moment his mouth moves to your breasts, and he begins to lick and suck your nipples, his long fingers greedily embracing the soft flesh. Your head is swept clean. You loll under him, sighing softly, he presses his lap into the mattress as he moves down your body, a low rumble coming from his chest as he sucks your nipples and rubs against your body.

Suddenly he rises, kneeling higher over you, his hard cock hovering just in front of your mouth. You blink and look past his hard length up into his face. His hand roughly grips your chin, pushing it higher, then he demands, "Open." Nervously, you open your lips as he finally presses his tip against them, letting him in. Your tongue automatically presses against the underside. You see him shiver, and hear him moan. Admittedly a nice feeling and a delightful sight. But Tech is under pressure, under fire. He grips your head and pushes further until you gag and your eyes tear as he fucks your mouth. His whole body trembles with tension. You stare up at him, having no idea how long you can keep this up or what to do when you can't anymore. But it doesn't take long, you feel him throbbing in your mouth, Tech moans out, then his semen shoots down your throat and mouth. You swallow in surprise as best you can. There's quite a bit. He pulls his cock out of your mouth again. Some of his semen trickles down your chin, but you can't wipe it away because of your bound hands. He keeps moving, his lips and tongue roaming from your breasts down, over your belly, faster and faster, as if they're impatient.

You start breathing faster the closer he gets to the heated triangle between your thighs.

There is something tugging at you, a craving, a want, something you didn't know before you had. It's weird, all of this, yet you feel you want this, you want him.

Then he's finally there, you hear him take a deep breath, feel him shakily expel the air on your wet folds. While you're still shuddering from the soft draft, his mouth is suddenly on your pussy, his tongue heatedly exploring your folds. A surprised squeak escapes you, followed by a gasp as his tongue glides over your pearl, repeating the motion several times in quicker succession. You have no idea how he does it, but his tongue is so nimble and strong, getting wilder and wilder. Your thighs tremble around his head, the gasps from your throat become faster and faster, mixing with hoarse moans. Tirelessly, his tongue flicks over your swollen, pulsating clit, again and again and again. You mewl in arousal, stir in your bonds. The feeling of his soft, wet tongue dancing on your sweet spot, that bundle of nerves is delicious.

He's rutting his cock into the mattress while he licks and sucks your clit, moaning as he does so, humming, muffled by your pussy where you very clearly feel the vibration, an added stimulus. You don't know what's gotten into him, at the moment you can't get a clear thought either. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you think back to the red glowing mushroom in the cave.

No matter how surprised and overwhelmed you are right now, you are also incredibly horny. Your abdomen trembles, your thighs quiver, the tension, the tingling and pulsating is heading towards a climax.

Tech's tongue gets faster, flicks your little clit in rapid fashion. Your abdomen tenses, your walls clench around nothing.

You almost cry out as you tip over the edge into your climax. Tech continues to lick your clit, a little too long, you become hypersensitive, and you jerk under his touch, but his hands grab your hips hard and hold you in place, pushing you into the sheets. He's still rutting his cock into the pad of the bunk, and his tongue finds your dripping opening. A little cry comes over your lips as Tech slips his tongue between your slick walls and wiggles around inside, starting to lick you out like you're candy. He's greedy, and intense and he's making a mess. "TECH!" He growls, not a word, not really a response, just a growl. His nose keeps pressing against your hypersensitive pearl, but every twitch of yours is held in check by his hard grip. "This is too much, Tech, too much!" You see him twitch, another growl, he rolls his glassy, reddened eyes back for a moment. You realize he's cumming in the sheets.

He finally lets go of you for a moment, sits up, somewhat breathlessly wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and forearm, wipes away your juices and his saliva. His sweaty chest rises and falls heavyly. Tech still looks feverish, his eyes still wild and without focus. "Not enough," he says, slightly hoarse, smoky, "More!" You see that his length is still hard and erect. Then you see his gaze fall between your legs, you automatically want to close your thighs, you don't really want any more over-stimulation, but he pushes himself in between. Automatically, you want to use your hands, but they are still tied to the head of the bunk. Tech lies above you, pressed against you, his body still glowing hot. He seems to be wrestling with himself, hesitating, but only briefly. In the next moment, he has brought his tip to your hole and is penetrating you, parting your moist folds and plunging deep inside you. He's quite long and thick, you feel him stretching and filling you. "Fuck," you curse softly.

It hurts a little, but somehow it also feels so damn good. He's leaning on his hands, hovering half above you, his cock deep inside you. Sweat is on his forehead, his muscles are shaking, his reddened eyes keep blinking. He looks strained. You realize he's trying to hold back right now, but barely managing it.

This is not your sweet and shy Tech.

He starts to move, dragging his cock a bit out of your sensitive entrance, and right after that he pushes forward into you again. Slowly at first, but he gets faster and faster. He half sits up, pulling you to a different angle as he does so he can push deeper inside you. Tech moans, gasps, makes little sounds you've never heard before, every now, and then he stammers words you don't understand. His hips move faster and faster, the sound of naked skin meeting naked skin fills the room. You didn't expect it, but your arousal picks up again and as if Tech sensed it, a hand moves between you and his fingertips, deftly find your pearl. A hoarse sound passes your lips as his cock inside you, as well as his fingers on your clit, speeds up. As if of their own accord, your legs close around his hips as your thighs begin to tremble.

His name comes moaning over your lips, again and again. He stares at you, but his eyes are still so glazed and wild that you don't know if he's really looking at you. A shudder goes through his body, a twitch, then he growls softly, you feel his cock twitch and pulse in your cleft, his warm seed filling your pussy. Every other thrust, accompanied by a squelching sound. Shortly after, the knot in your abdomen loosens, tingling all the way to the tips of your toes. But Tech doesn't stop, he's still hard, thrusting into your pussy filled with his seed. "More," you hear him say in a shaky voice. You moan, "Tech, I can't take anymore." You don't know if he really understood you, perceived the words, but he pulls his cock out of your pussy with a wet smacking sound, grabs your hips and turns you onto your stomach. Your heart races, you're not sure what he's up to. His length is still full of his juices and yours as he pushes it lengthwise between your buns. His hands grip your buns pretty hard and squeeze them together as he begins to rub his cock in the crease between them.

He moans, gasps and trembles. You are glad that he has refrained from sticking it in your ass. Without preparation, that would have been very unpleasant. Tech rubs himself against your buns, panting, trembling. He suddenly slows down, then you feel his warm load splashing on your buns and your back. By now you are full of his cum, in and on you, even the bunk is full of it, everything is sticky. Tech, of all people, who is very conscious of his hygiene, has made this mess. His breath is getting shaky, you hear it, feel his cock finally softening on your buns. "Oh maker... oh no... oh hells no...", you hear him whisper, in his tone a desperation that is hard to overhear. You pull at your bonds and say as calmly as you can, "Please, Tech, untie me." "Oh my goodness, of course, right now.... I'm so sorry... really so sorry..." he continues to stammer and with trembling hands he loosens your bonds. Finally, you can sit up, turn around and look at him. His eyes are back to normal, no longer glassy, nor reddened, but his cheeks and ears are red, and the expression on his face completely desperate and ashamed. He hastily grabs a pillow to cover his crotch as you look at him.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, almost whispering, barely managing to look at you, his gaze jerking away again and again, "I felt everything, perceived everything, but it was like my body was just a doll, controlled by overwhelming sexual desire...my mind had no control." "I figured something wasn't normal," you say dryly, looking down at yourself, "I'm all sticky," you grumble softly. "Oh maker, please don't hate me now, I couldn't stand that" he says, ducking his head. You laugh softly and say, "I'm never touching any mushrooms near you again". He doesn't feel like laughing, and your attempt to loosen him up unfortunately fails. You say softly, "Tech, well, before all this happened, you and I really liked each other, didn't we? I mean, we were just a little too shy to interact more." Tech blinks and lifts his eyes after all. His cheeks are flushed as he clears his throat and says meekly, "I've been in love with you for a long time, if that's what you mean." You feel heat rising in your cheeks and your heart beating faster. "Yeah, that's what I meant" you say nodding "The feeling was mutual by the way". Tech's eyes grow wide behind his goggles, but then he lowers his gaze again. "I guess I ruined that now".

"No," you contradict him, "you didn't. The fungus has twisted your senses, or whatever you want to call it. Nothing is broken because of it yet." Cautiously, Tech raises his eyes again. "I'd like to make you a proposition," you say softly as he looks at you. Tech nods and says, "I'm all ears." "You and I are going to take a shower together, nice and relaxed. We'll wash, maybe each other, some tender touches, no pressure, no expectation, just enjoy each other's closeness. Some tenderness after this, little disaster?" Tech blinks several times and asks, "You would still let me touch you?" You nod and admit, "It's not like I wasn't having fun at all. Besides, that wasn't really you, but I'd still like to get to know the real Tech better." Tech smiles, stands up and after a moment's hesitation, puts away the pillow he was covering his crotch with. He takes your hand and helps you out of the sticky bunk.

Under the warm stream of water of the shower, you both slowly relax, Tech letting his tension escape with a sigh and smiling at you as you look over your shoulder while he gently washes your back. Tech says tenderly, "You're gorgeous, by the way". Your ears get all hot and a tingle spreads through your stomach as you say, "You're not bad yourself, handsome" Suddenly you hear voices, the boys must be back from their errands. Then you hear a curse and Crosshair yelling loudly, "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BUNK!!!" You look up with a soft, "Uh oh," at Tech who then whispers, "Oh. That's probably bad." "He's going to kill us," you say, biting your lower lip suppressing a grin, "We really made a hell of a mess." "Indeed," Tech says dryly, "I'd say we stay in here for now until he calms down." "That could take a long time" Tech smiles mischievously, "I don't mind"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@either-madness-or-brilliance

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@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

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@echos-girlfriend

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@jediknightjana

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@antishadow2021

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@projectdreamwalker

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soapisahimbo · 2 years

Text

NSFW ABC - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Edition

Here we go! Mister Garrick! I thought this one would be difficult, but I'm actually quite happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

I will be working on a few more things for you, being some non-requested headcanons, Rodolfo Parra's NSFW ABC and jealous!Ghost NSFW headcanons, so I hope you look forward to it!

warnings: senseless smut, detailed descriptions, gaz is a horny little shit, hinted at female anatomy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He'll spend a moment or two just panting into your skin, stroking his hands over your hips and thighs while his dick is still inside you until the high has worn off, then he shifts to look at you and asks you how you're feeling. Kisses you gently, but passionately, and you'll feel him press himself closer to you once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth; unless you want this to lead into another round or two, you're going to have to redirect his attention. Break his train of thought by pecking him on the nose instead or tickling his sides and he'll get the gist. He'll chuckle out an apology before gently pulling out and leaning back to take a good look at you.

His next course of action depends on the time of day - if it's in the morning and you have plans for the day, shower it is. If no plans, whether you taking a shower or he just gets a warm towel to clean you off before you go to make breakfast together depends solely on if you can still walk. If one of you (most likely you) is out of commission, the one who can still feel their legs goes to make breakfast in bed. If it's later in the evening you'll most likely settle down in the sheets and stay wrapped around each other, kissing and touching until you fall asleep. This will probably, most definitely lead to another heated session once you wake up in the morning.

Washing each other off is almost casual and quite relaxing, and it feels like you're just hanging out with your best friend. Your very intimate best friend with wandering hands, a teasing smirk and an extensive knowledge of all your weakest spots.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Having a strong and capable body is incredibly important in his line of work, and he usually doesn't give much thought to his appearance if there are more important things to keep track of. But he knows that he's an attractive man, he knows that others look at him and wish that they had either him or his body, and he definitely knows that you watch him closely when he walks around, be it fully clothed or shirtless or with just a towel around his hips. If you have your own favourite part of his body, you can bet your ass he'll use it against you. Making you blush brings him endless amusement.

But if he's going to pick something on himself, if he really had to, he'd probably say his arms, chest and back. He's leaner than for example Ghost, but he's strong, resilient and balanced and it shows. He loves flustering you with his body; he wraps his arms tightly around you, or pins you to the wall and cages you in with his arms at either side of your head, and he grabs your hands at random and places them onto his chest and slowly guides them down his torso, down his abdomen, before smirking and just turning to walk away. Likes turning around and checking the scratches you've left on him in the mirror, and he will definitely tease you about that, too - nothing you do is sacred.

On you, he loves your neck, your chest and your hips. His hands never stay in one place - he strokes and caresses and squeezes any part that he can reach, but he finds that they're drawn to these parts more than most. He likes the way you feel in his hands, and as much of a little shit-tease as he is, he simply loves the feeling of burying his face in your neck, especially in non-sexual moments. He's an absolute devil with marking you up though, and if you don't feel like wearing a turtleneck for the next week or so, you'll need to stay on your guard.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

He loves cumming in your mouth if you let him, specifically on your tongue. He doesn't care if you swallow it or not, but just seeing you with your tongue out, with his cum dripping either off of the tip of it or down your throat; don't be surprised if he's ready to go again. Other than that, cumming on your tummy or ass also makes him feel like he's marked his territory, in a sense. He's by no means the jealous or possessive type, but he just likes knowing that only he gets to see you like that. Especially if he gets to spread your cheeks and cum just against the rim of your hole.

Will definitely cum in you if you let him or want him to, but he honestly likes seeing it on you more, and frankly, he wants your cum on him in one way or another as well.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Once, a while before the two of you started dating, when you were still just best friends, he caught you masturbating. He didn't mean to, he simply opened the door and there you were, half naked in bed and with your hand down in your underwear. He knew he should've closed the door the instant he realized what you were doing, left you to your own devices and forget he even saw anything. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He watched, with wide eyes, heated cheeks and clenched fists and a new sudden hardness below the belt as you brought yourself to climax, never noticing he was there. He couldn't help but take note of how you shivered, how your legs clamped together, how your hips bucked up and how your back arched when you came and he just knew instantly that that image would be burned into his brain forever. He quietly stepped back, closed the door and rushed away as he tried his absolute best to ignore what he just saw and how he felt about it, but he was helpless.

For the following couple of weeks, he could barely look at you, which was an insane challenge considering that you were one of his closest friends. But that image would pop back into his head every time you came into view, and he had brought himself to climax to it far more times than he would have liked to admit. Any time you spoke, he'd remember the sounds you made and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like if he could make you shiver like that; if he could ever have you make those noises for him and him alone.

You could tell something was up, but he kept his mouth shut. When you thought that maybe you had done something wrong, he didn't confess, but he assured you that that was most certainly not the case and gave himself a mental slap for letting his fantasies get the better of him. There was definitely a change in your friendship, you could tell, but he refused to let you believe it was your fault. It was during a party, when you bumped his hip with yours and made a dirty joke that the floodgates opened, and he pulled you close and kissed you. He confessed, not what he had seen, but what he felt for you and how much he wanted you.

The first time he finally got to put his thoughts to reality, he was transfixed and eager, demanding that you show and tell him everything that makes you tick.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

It's safe to say that he's got a fair amount of experience - fooled around a bit during college and had a partner when he first joined the military, but it didn't quite work out. Once he joined SAS, he put all of his mind into his training and his missions. Considering that he's the youngest in 141, it hasn't been quite as long for him as it may have been for some of the others, and he's no stranger to one-night-stands, but he eventually found that it wasn't worth his time and energy.

Once he met you, he completely ignored any offers from other people; he'd much rather hang out with you, even if it was just platonically at first, and now that he has you in every way imaginable he doesn't need anyone else.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Go on, baby, get on top. He likes watching you, likes it when you take charge, loves when you ride the absolute life out of him. He'll hold himself off to the best of his abilities, wanting you to cum on his cock if you can, but if he cums before you he'll tell you to either get up on his face or lay down so he can give you "the good stuff". He's also more than happy - almost too happy - to take over if it's starting to become more and more of a challenge for you to keep the pace. Says it's to reward you as he switches the two of you around and wraps your legs around him; "you did so good, baby, you're so good."

He's probably the biggest advocate of cuddle-sex; #1 cuddle-fucker if you will. Laying on your sides, either facing each other so he can hold your leg over his hip, or spooning is a huge thing for him. He'll keep his lips and tongue on you as much as he physically can, moaning into your skin. Getting out of his grip will be a challenge, both because of his strength and because he begs you not to. Either let him give it to you, or give it to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

The two of you were best friends way before you became a couple and you still are, so inside jokes, snarky comments, bickering and general sass is par for the course. Pinching, poking, teasing, tickling, you name it. There will most likely be lots of laughter between the two of you and there's not really a limit to what sets you off. If one of you goes, the other follows. Weird noises, dumb faces, an out-of-the-blue joke, an unexpected interruption, bumping heads, tripping and stumbling, getting stuck, pulling a muscle - you have had to stop fucking just because you can't stop laughing far too many times to count. This never kills the mood though. Once the laughter has died down, it's almost like the residual giggles turn you on even more and the sex just gets that much better.

That of course doesn't mean he doesn't have his serious moments. He's happy to have you in his life and he wants you to know this. He seeks you out when he's had a rough day or a mission has taken a bit more out of him than usual, only wanting to be held by you, and he will insist on doing the same for you if you're going through something as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Much like the hair on his head, but shorter. Black, semi-thick and tightly curled. It's spread out just above his pubic mound - not quite a happy trail but almost - and down the upper part of his inner thighs, sticking close to the skin. He usually does a full trim before deployment because it grows kind of slow, and then once more when he comes back home, but he doesn't do much with it during the time in between other than keeping it clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Remember, #1 cuddle-fucker. He lives fully and wholly for cuddles that turn into sex that turn back into cuddles and then back into sex. Of course he doesn't expect it every time, nor does he try to initiate it every time you cuddle, but it's for sure one of his favourite things. He's in no way awkward with affection and will look deep into your eyes when he tells you that he loves you.

He sighs into your ear as he holds you close and slowly ruts into you, he whispers all his love into your skin even if you can't hear him, he writes tiny little messages with the tips of his fingers even if you can't see them. You're not always aware of his professions of love, but he feels a need to get them out there anyway. He just wants to make sure you know how he feels about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

It depends on the situation. If he's out on the field, he'll hold off without a problem. He has a steely determination and solid focus and if he thinks about you, it's mostly in the light of him just missing you and wanting to be back home. If he's in the safety of his own room back at base though, he jerks off nearly every night. It's a good way to get rid of tension, and it's a way for him to indulge in his fantasies about you after having to stay sharp for a longer period of time. He has some pictures and videos of you tucked away somewhere safe that he only takes out if he's 100% sure the coast is clear (Soap almost stumbled upon a photo of you in Gaz's wallet once and Gaz nearly snapped his neck for it). If he can, he might send you a video or a picture of his own, letting you know that he's thinking of you, as well as giving you an idea of what's to come once he returns.

If he's jerking off at home, it's mostly to tease you or because you're not there and he's impatient. You usually catch him in the act, and depending on how long he's been going, he'll either give you a smirk and ask if you're going to "lend him a hand" (pun fully intended) or he'll beg you to help him out and let him fuck you. It is highly recommended you use this against him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Not the kinkiest of the bunch, but is surprisingly into getting tied up and used by you. He'll grin at you and say things like, "you think you can take me, baby?" and while he might never ever openly confess this, there's a part of him that greatly enjoys when you put him in his place, so to speak; when you remind him that you can make just as much a mess of him as he can of you. Mark him up as much as you can, maybe in places that will be difficult for him to cover - if he whines, just tell him it's payback for all the times he's done it to you.

Matter of fact, he likes it when the two of you challenge each other. Who can hold off the longest? Who can make the other cum first or the hardest? Who will give in to the other first, who will touch the other first, who will beg first? Both of you will use the dirtiest tricks that you have to your advantage and each time is a real coin toss of who wins. But it makes it that much more fun and to be honest, losing isn't really all that bad either.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He's a fiend, and there's not really any limit to where he'll turn on his devilish charm and try to seduce his way into your pants. He does prefer the coziness of the bed overall, but he's not above sneaking you into a bathroom or a broom closet if he gets the chance. Is actually a pretty big fan of outdoor sex and wants to go hiking with you just to whisk you away into the woods somewhere where the wilderness will be your only witness. Also likes going out on shorter roadtrips just so you can pull over in some secluded spot and have some good old-fashioned car sex.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He is incredibly domestic. He likes cooking and cleaning with you, likes curling up on the couch to watch a movie with you and just likes spending time with you in general. He doesn't always have mischievous intents when he starts touching you, sometimes it's just the safety and the feeling of being close with his friend and lover that warms him up in the best of ways. Any competitions between you two more often than not have some flirty or sexual undertones and you spend most of your times just pushing each other's buttons. Tease him, flirt with him, throw dirty jokes and innuendos his way and it'll have him more hot and bothered than he'd care to admit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Absolutely no humiliation or degradation. To him, sex is a moment to indulge in each other, to feel good and to connect. If he heard anyone else call you something degrading, he would already have ripped their face off before they'd gotten the last syllable out, so the idea of willingly and deliberately doing something like that in any situation, even with your consent, is nowhere near his comfort zone. Things like choking are also a bit of a no-go, because the last thing he wants his to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He's not really the type to spend ages and ages with his face between your legs (he prefers to do that with his fingers), but he does do it often, usually when you least expect it. He asks if he can go down on you at any random moment, like in the middle of a movie or while you're making something to eat, or before you're heading out. He gets you off once or twice in rather quick succession and will give you a wolfish grin as you're recovering from the sudden onslaught of his tongue. He'll crawl up to your face to kiss you deeply and depending on how you decide to take it further, he will either pull his pants down to fuck you, or he'll just spread your legs and go back down once more to get a couple more quick orgasms out of you. Wants you to look at him while he does it though, or he'll use some of the dirtiest tricks he knows to get your attention (as if he doesn't already have it). He definitely doesn't mind getting you off a few more times before he even unbuckles his belt.

He also doesn't expect you to spend any exorbitant amount of time sucking him off, but he surely isn't going to turn the offer down. Grabs you firmly, but carefully by the hair and watches intently as you move your mouth up and down. He kinda wishes he could see it go down your throat if you can take him that deep. He sighs and coos and praises you with whatever words he can form, but mostly he'll just stare with his mouth hanging open, not even bothering to try and hold back any moans that escape him. He'll get a bit whiny once he starts nearing his climax, but leaves himself entirely in your hands (and mouth) and throws his head back once you work him over that edge. He'll shake and quiver once he cums and he'll hold your head in place until he's calmed down, and then wants to see his cum in your mouth before you swallow it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Honestly, you're in charge. He himself usually goes for a rather quick pace, one that will have both of you panting in sweating in a matter of moments, but he loves the way you do it. He'll only tell you to slow down if he's trying to hold out a little longer and needs to catch his breath, but a part of him truly relishes in the moment if you keep it up. If he himself slows down, it's more often than not to tease you. However fast or slow, hard or soft you want him to fuck you, he's got it. One thing that you can always count on is that he likes to grind his whole length into you, no matter the pace of it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

It's a pretty regular occurrence in your sex life. He loves the longer sessions, but every now and then he claims that the two of you might need "something to hold you off" for a little while. If he wasn't so goddamn good at it, you'd smack that smirk off of his face every time he came up with a new euphemism for it (so far, he's used ones like "an appetizer before the big meal", "a little preview", "dipping the toes", "sampling the goods" and "a sneak peek"). The type to tug at you and say "give me a taste before we head out, yeah?"

Getting pushed up against the wall with his hand slipping past your underwear or suddenly having his face press itself in between your thighs or having him press himself up against you to whisper all sorts of filth into you ears - it's to be expected at this point. With your consent, of course.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

While he likes to push it, he'd never actually put the two of you in any direct danger or unsafe situation, and he trusts that you wouldn't either. For example, the risk of getting caught when he fingers you while stuck in a traffic jam is certainly there, but the windows are tinted and he's making sure no one's actually paying attention. He's not the kinkiest or the roughest, but he'd still want to establish some safewords, just for that extra layer of safety.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Give him a moment, he'll make it last a lifetime. If he wants it to last, it'll be 1, maybe 2 long rounds where he'll go slow and steady, no rushing, just good vibes. If he's feeling more heated and horny, it'll be about 4 shorter rounds, give or take, that will have you inclined to ask him how he's still going. He doesn't necessarily stop there though - there can be several rounds spread out over an entire day if you have the time for it. He never expects anything though - if you're not up for it, he'll hold himself off. He might jerk off, but most of the time if you're not feeling it, neither is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Oh, he's definitely up for it. Wants you to give him a show first, especially if you've gotten something new. It's not like he's just going to sit there and watch though - he has to touch you, lay next to you and talk you through it, asking you how it feels and if you like it. "Is it good, baby? Does it feel as good as me?"

Definitely likes cock rings, just because it can make him last that much longer, and that ache is a sweet one. Unless you're in a mood for torture and get him one that vibrates - he won't know whether to love you or absolutely hate you for it.

He'll never turn down new ways to have some fun with you, and toys are a great way to really liven things up. If you use them while he's away you, he wants you to send him pictures and videos if you can. If not, you need to at least tell him about it. Or don't. Or do. He can't really decide on whether or not that's a good idea, because if he can't see or hear you while he knows for a fact that you're getting off without him, it'll have his mind running like a highspeed train.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

It's practically his middle name at this point. Switch "Gaz" out for "Unfair" and there you have it. He loves driving you up the wall when he knows you can't act out on your desires and there will be a ear-splitting grin deserving of a slap plastered on his face if you get even the slightest bit flustered. He's the type to act all seductive and heated and lean in to kiss you, but then turn at the last second and walk away as if nothing happened. Because of this, you have every right in the world to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He likes it when you turn things around on him, but that doesn't mean you should show him any mercy, nor does it mean it doesn't drive him insane.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Moans, sighs, whimpers, swears - he's not holding back. He can just about stay quiet if you're fooling around where someone else might hear you, but he likes letting you know that he's enjoying this. But he wants to know you're enjoying this too. If you're trying to hold back on those sweet, sweet noises without any actual reason, it'll almost offend him. Unless it's some sort of challenge, in which case, bring it on.

He's talkative, and he speaks in ways that would make even the boldest and most dirty-minded people fluster. He can have you weak in the knees from just his words alone, and he's sent you over edge several times through the things he moans into your ear while he fucks you, and you might need to gag him if you want to render him unable to use that against you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

You were sitting in the couch, chatting with a friend on the phone about unimportant happenings and plans to meet up when Kyle took a seat next to you. He mumbled out a "tell them I said hi", but didn't say much else. As the conversation with your friend dragged on, he started to get restless. You felt his hand on your thigh and you didn't think much of it at first, until it started to slide further up. You threw a playful glare his way, but he acted clueless. When he carefully cupped his hand between your legs, you covered the phone and whispered, "What are you doing?!"

He simply grinned and slid his hand into your pants. "Don't mind me, baby. Just act like I'm not here." Luckily your friend was too engrossed in their own story to notice your sudden lack of words as Kyle rubbed at your warmth between your legs. Before long, he slid off the couch and onto his knees, down between your legs, and dragged your pants down along with him. He lifted your knees up and placed teasing kisses along the seam of your underwear as you tried to pay attention to your friend. You tried to speak - or rather whisper - some sense into him when he dragged your underwear down as well and licked teasingly where your inner thighs met with your pubic mound, but to no avail. You were trying to think of excuses to give your friend to hang up when he looked up to you and said, "Like I'm not even here," and then gave a long, slow, wide-tongued lick and you prayed that your friend would never realize that something was amiss.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Somewhere between 5.5-6 inches and nearly perfectly proportionate to the rest of him. Curves upward a bit and to the right, but it honestly just helps him hit the good spots. Is a little bit thicker at the base, but other than that it's pretty even across the rest of his length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He wants you one way or another practically all the time and he'll have you as much as you'll let him. You can usually tell by his kisses and touches what he wants, and the two of you often get each other in the mood almost automatically. He'll step back in an instant if you tell him that you're not feeling it, but he's nearly always up for it if you approach him with any sort of sexual intent. Rest assured, you will never feel unwanted.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Likes to fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't fall asleep right away, but usually keeps mumbling about various nothings while stroking your arms or your face. The two of you will usually doze off while talking, your voices and the warmth of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

#cod x reader #cod mw2 fic #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz smut #cod gaz

848 notes · View notes

saintslewis · 6 months

Text

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐀: 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 🪩

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem oc; Nadia Hamilton

summary: social media posts from the most recent chapter! <3

warnings: twitter environment, cussing

saint’s team radio 🎀: 2 for the price of 1 😝. did not mean to take so long so here’s a little gift 🫶🏽

pic credit: pinterest and ig!

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig

plastic off the sofa: chapter 7

renaissance: the masterlist

Twitter!

Instagram!

nadiahamilton

liked by taylorrussell, normani and 3,484,913 others

nadiahamilton versace x dua lipa.

view all comments

pinned!

nadiahamilton guys my back tat looks so delicious

loriharvey YOU’RE JOKING? NADIA

nadiahamilton hello 🤭

user and what if this causes my hospitalisation?

dualipa i was so lucky to see this in person

nadiahamilton thank you for such an amazing show!

versace 💗

lilymhe i fainted a couple of times

arianagrande WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU JUST WAKE UP AND LOOK LIKE THIS

nadiahamilton i don’t, i swear 😭

kehlani can your man fight

haileybieber you look like a dream 🥹

user whatever your affirmations were, hand them over!

sza that ass is SITTING

francisca.cgomes i am begging for one chance

alexandrasaintmleux me too omg

user i don’t think you understand what you’ve done now

nataliatheedon you’re actually unreal WHAT

latto777 it’s actually so unfair that he gets you to himself

iamcardib like it’s actually pissing me off rn

amaraonmars this is insanity. do it again

jackharlow oh you was serious

user white boy, what are you talking abt? 🤨

user probably something at the party

user and dare i ask who took the photos….

user there could only be one selfish man who did this

user not you calling him selfish 😭😭😭

lewishamilton had to take a breather

charlottieee we’ll give you your pump, grandpa

fencer THIS IS SO CRAZY???

nataliatheedon CHARLOTTE YOU CAN’T SAY THAT 😭

lewishamilton hi mrs hamilton

nadiahamilton hi 🤭

user they had to remind y’all REAL QUICK

nadiahamilton

liked by bellahadid, zendaya and 845,246 others

nadiahamilton hello monaco! (can we pls focus on how good he looked)

view all comments

user publicly thirsting over him, aren’t you embarrassed?

user girl that’s her husband…..

carmenmmundt we need to get together like that soon, it was so much fun!

lilymhe i felt like i was in a chick flick

francisca.cgomes not when you tripped and your ice cream fell ‼️

alexandrasaintmleux kika let’s be nice but YES tinkerbell, i need another girl’s day or else i will combust

user YOUR SHIRT??????

nadiahamilton super cute right?

user it’s so iconic!!!!

user nadia liked and favourited an edit of mine, just wanted to flex 🙏

user now why would you expose that girl’s secret like that (share the edit)

nataliatheedon monaco isn’t a real place, hope that helps!

nadiahamilton if i were you, i’d keep quiet 🫵🏽

nataliatheedon 😧

user i have the slightest feeling that you can cook, can you?

nadiahamilton yes?

user since no one is talking about it, yes he looked so good that day Nadia

nadiahamilton THANK YOU LIKE SOMETHING WAS IN THE AIR THAT DAY

f1femmepost

liked by fanpage, fanpage and many others

f1femmepost bumping into nadiahamilton was the highlight of our Monaco Grand Prix weekend! Tell us what your favourite interview moments were!

view comments!

user “is this one of those tiny mics?? I LOVE TINY MICS”

user “i promise you, go up to one of these white people and they will give you a paddock pass. i’ve seen it.”

user “sorry i gotta fix my nose ring hold up”

user “there are days where he sounds incredibly british and it’s just so interesting to hear.” “but he is-” “and that’s what makes it better!”

user “these are my ladies, those drivers couldn’t stand a CHANCE!”

user a dog and its owner walk by: “omg look at it, i wanna squeeze that dog.”

user “i won’t hold you, i’m craving a big ass bowl of pasta rn.”

user *sings in the most angelic voice you’ve ever heard*

user “i’ll never stop being a teacher, it’s so much fun.”

user “if you’ve got extremely blue eyes, do not stare at people, it’s so scary. i’m talking about you, pierre gasly.”

user “omg you’re craving cupcakes? let’s go get them!”

user “you like that bag from gucci? let’s go get it.”

user “i love laying on the floor so much.”

f1femmepost because of all these posts, we love Nadia Hamilton so much! 🫶🏽

saint’s notes 🎀: this took so long yoh, hope you enjoyed!

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #saint writes #renaissance: the series #thank you for 750!!! love you all

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svltzmans · 11 months

Text

bottom! hope mikaelson headcanons

a/n: hello hello i know i said i was taking a little break but inspiration struck for this request bc i'm a slut

warnings: smut of course (18+ only pleaseee), i write kinky shit sometimes wbk, mention of dominant/submissive dynamics kinda, roughness in a sexual context, etc etc., no editing just thoughts™️

hope would never admit this out loud

but she loves to be out of control sometimes

and she's a major brat about it

including doing everything she can to provoke you to take control

she would invite you to dinner, encouraging you to dress up in a skirt or dress

and she'd intricately tease you the whole time, ensuring that it was for your eyes only

running her hand up your thighs

whispering in your ear

(not even dirty things, she knows that her whispering anything at all has the desired effect)

hoping to get you to take her to the bathroom

(she likes the risk of semi-public sex which i've written sm about in my other fics 😭)

but you'd manage to resist just to see hope flustered without your attention

the drive home would definitely be interesting

now that you and hope are somewhat in private, hope embraces it by switching to verbal teasing

"what are you gonna do to me when we're home, y/n? i know you wanna fuck me, you can stop pretending you don't."

"your hands look so hot on that steering wheel. they'd look so much hotter on my body though, don't you think?"

as soon as you're both through the door, hope is pinned against it, and she lets it happen.

"can't even behave in a restaurant for a little while, huh hope?"

"i'm always well behaved, maybe you're just a little dramatic," hope would sneer, still trying to provoke you.

"you better lose that attitude, or it won't end well for you."

hope likes aggression in the bedroom quite a bit, especially when she's receiving this kind of behavior from you

she usually is somewhat aggressive back in order to encourage you to be more aggressive

"how about you fuck the attitude out of me?"

bottom! hope most definitely has a secret edging kink

because it involves her being completely powerless, which in any other context she wouldn't like

but when it's you, and she's in the mood for it

it's her favorite thing

she looooves to beg in these situations too

which makes eating bottom! hope out so much fun for you

getting to watch her squirm and see her teasing attitude disappear and be replaced by pure desperation

bottom! hope is vocal, and she doesn't hold back at all

she's actually happy you didn't decide to fuck her in the bathroom of the restaurant

because she can be as loud as she wants

"god, y/n. just like that, more. please more, i need you."

and not long after, this would turn into

"fuck, y/n, i'm close. please make me cum."

and that's when you'd pull away, holding her thighs apart.

"no baby, please don't. need to cum for you so bad."

"maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to mess around in the restaurant and then be a brat about it."

one of hope's favorite things is feeling you grab her thighs, hard

and pull her closer to your mouth

and she's not afraid to admit it too

"i love when you're rough with me, y/n."

yeah, bottom! hope is a force to be reckoned with

and writing this made me realize i want to top her lmao

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #the originals x reader #hope mikaelson x fem! reader #hope mikaelson headcanons #hope mikaelson smut #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson fic

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sempersirens · 1 year

Text

sun bleached flies | five

masterlist

chapter summary: back to reader's pov, joel is issued a firmer warning, and old vices are revisited

warnings: 18+, mdni. previous dark!joel/raider!joel. angst. threat. violence. panic attack. mention of ptsd/nightmares. lotsa swearing. alcoholism/drug overdose. suicidal ideation.

a/n: i half proof-read this but editing was turning me inside out so i called it a day and pushed post. pls forgive me. love u all

You'd be lying if you pretended that the sight of Joel breaking down on your front porch didn't tug both sides of your mouth into an uncharacteristically sadistic smile.

Big, scary Joel Miller. The man who put the fear of God in most of Jackson's residents each and every day. He was a ghost story in this town; rumours of his past life were exchanged in low voices, whispers gliding through pools of beer at the Tipsy Bison after dark.

He had been a ghost to you, too. An intangible apparition that left you feeling like a little girl afraid of the dark.

But here he was, on your doorstep, sobs racking through his body and tears falling from his eyes.

He looked pathetic. Powerless.

You had an overwhelming urge to touch him as he wept. To place a hand on his upper arm or rake your fingers through his hair and pull, pull, pull. To ground yourself in the moment, to prove to yourself this was real. Your fingertips swelled with power. The feeling was electric; you momentarily understood how men like him became infatuated with the sensation.

You'd grown to realise that men didn't like it very much when they were faced with facts of their wrongdoings. You had seen it first in your father. How he would attempt to convince you, and himself, that he was a good man. That he had tried everything to bring your mother back from the pit she called home, but that she was too stubborn. That it was her decision to crawl further and further into the darkness.

It was interesting, to you at least, how your father had slowly managed to believe his own lie. You had watched as he'd wiped his slate clean and moulded a new identity that only existed in words, not actions.

You looked on as Joel did the same. You watched him come undone, clinging onto the wooden railing for support, assuming the same stance as when you'd confirmed his suspicions about Mia's parentage.

It felt like watching a predator behind five layers of glass at the zoo. You couldn't help but stare at his insides mangling his body; his knuckles white against the railing, shoulders rigid against his neck, jaw clenched and throat humming with gulps of air between sobs. It looked unnatural, like seeing a polar bear sprawled against a cold rock on a summer's day in Georgia.

Repeatedly turning up here, at your home, was one thing. But to demand a right to see your daughter? His unrelenting audacity was astounding; it was the self-confidence only a man who had lied to himself over and over could pull off.

"I need you to quieten down, Joel. I have neighbours." You warned in a harsh whisper, afraid of providing Jackon with a buzz of gossip tomorrow morning.

You pulled him by the arm and dragged him inside to ensure his attention. Pinning him against the front door, taking a second to commend your own strength knowing he could put you on your ass in seconds, you pressed the blade from your back pocket against the base of his throat.

"You make a single move toward those stairs or do anything to wake my daughter, I will gut you. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." He choked in response.

You released your weight from him, finally realising just how big he actually was. He towered over you, his broad shoulders eclipsing the entire width of the doorframe. You wondered if he had stayed beneath your grip solely for your benefit.

"Sit down." You gestured toward the sofa, pacing back and forth as he obeyed.

"M'a good father, y'know." He hiccuped, face buried in his hands.

"I'm sure your Father of the Year award got lost in the mail." You retorted under your breath.

"I may not be a good man, but I've always been a good father. Took down all those Fireflies for Ellie. But now she don't wanna talk to me, she don't even look at me most days."

You weren't entirely listening as he mumbled into the palm of his hands, his body still jolting from time to time with poorly contained sobs.

"Well what did you do to piss her off?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Look, Joel. As much as I love our little heart to hearts, you nee-"

"Mommy?" You hadn't noticed Mia come into the room. Your muscles froze.

"Hey, sweetheart. Couldn't sleep?"

"I heard voices." She rubbed her eyes with little fists.

"I'm sorry we woke you little bird, let me come and tuck you back in."

You moved protectively toward Mia, herding her away from Joel like a shepherd at the sight of a fox in the distance of his flock.

"You were at my birthday party." Mia croaked, peaking around your legs to look at Joel.

He'd straightened his posture as soon as Mia's small voice had startled you both, and now he was leant forward ever so slightly.

There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on reflecting in his eyes. The effects of half a bottle of whiskey, most likely.

"Yes, I was, little lady. Did you have fun?"

"Okay, that's enough, le-" you tried to catch her before she slipped through the gap in your legs.

"Yes, thank you. But the other little girl ate the last of my cake."

Joel chuckled, resting his elbows on his knees with his fingers intertwined.

"That'll be my Ellie. You'll have to forgive her, she ain't had cake in a real long time."

You quickly caught the tear threatening to fall down your cheek.

Seeing the two of them connecting so effortlessly felt like driving past a car crash. You didn't want to look, you wanted to grab Mia in your arms and run as far away as possible, but you couldn't help but stand and stare.

All of their similarities, the quirks and characteristics you could never place in your own daughter suddenly lined up.

The way she looked through her eyelashes with those big brown doe eyes, the slight hook of her nose that you had come to terms with belonging to a stranger.

It was a haunting collision of where you'd come from and where you were headed, your past and future hanging before you with fingers and toes of their own. The man who had made you wish you could tear at your skin until there was nothing left, and the girl who gave you the needle to sew yourself back together. All you could do was stand and watch.

"That's enough, now. Upstairs to bed, Mia." You choked out, placing your body in between her and Joel as if it could stop the same blood from running through them both.

You ushered Mia up the stairs, tucking her into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, you placed a hand on her cheek and spoke in a low whisper.

"Mia, my love. If you ever see that man in town and I'm not with you, you are not to speak to him. Do you understand?"

"Is he bad?" She whispered in response.

"He's sick, baby. He was outside and alone for a very long time. I just really need you to promise me you'll stay away from him."

"Is he infected?" Her big eyes searched yours for an answer.

"No, sweetheart. It's his mind that's sick."

"Can I get it? The thing that makes him sick?"

"Never. You have honey running through your veins, little bird." You smoothed her hair down, placing a small kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"Okay, mommy. I promise."

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning."

She pulled the duvet up to her chin, her eyes fluttering softly shut. You closed her bedroom door and made your way back down the stairs to Joel lingering by the front door. His hands were crumpled in his jeans pockets, eyes concentrating on the wooden floor.

You thought he was about to say something, but rather than hear him out any longer you swatted your palm flat against his chin with all the force you could muster. As the back of his head hit the door with a thud, you connected your knee with his crotch, bringing your face down to his as he doubled over with a groan.

"You must've misheard me before. Pull this shit again and I'll make sure no woman has to suffer the misfortune of putting up with you, daddy of the year, ever again."

Feeling around the side of his dangling body, you turned the doorknob and let him stumble backwards into the night.

━━━━━━━━

"We still on for tonight?" Greg pressed about an hour into your morning patrol.

You'd wondered when the dreaded topic of drinks was going to rear its ugly head. In all honesty, you were far too tired from your poor night's sleep to do anything after patrol, but you were equally too tired to argue.

One drink wouldn't hurt, you told yourself. Hell, you might even manage a full night's sleep with the help of a glass of red.

"Sure. Tommy and Maria pick Mia up from school on Tuesdays, anyway."

"Great, I'll swing by yours around 8?"

"No, that's okay. I'll meet you at the Bison."

Hesitant to host yet another unwanted guest, you attempted to put as much distance between him and your home as possible.

You weren't a particularly antagonistic woman, but knowing Joel had arrived at your front door last night just short of a suit of armour boasting about how he just couldn't stand to hear you spoken about in such a way almost spurred you on to see through your plans with Greg. Joel's southern drawl, which wasn't really all that charming, coated each syllable that fell from his mouth with a sickly, lazed attempt at chivalry. Sometimes you thought he dropped half a word simply to conceal the rot in his chest.

Let him disapprove, you thought, remind him of his place: out of your business. Out of your life.

"Won't believe who I had a run-in with last night at the Bison. Tommy's big brother, Joe?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Don't play coy, Greg. You know his name is Joel."

"Whatever. He's fuckin' nuts. Smashin' his glass around, stormin' out in a damn tantrum like he ran the place."

"That so? What did you say to antagonise him?"

"You think I'm such a troublemaker, huh?" You quietly thanked god that you were riding ahead of Greg, or you're sure you would've caught a stomach-turning glint in his eye at the insinuation you actually thought about him, ever.

As the afternoon meandered into dusk, you wondered how in hell you were going to cope with a double shift of Greg. The leftover bottle of wine from Mia's birthday flickered in your subconscious. A scene played out in your mind of Maria smelling the sweetness on your breath, backing you into a corner and locking eyes with you the way only she could manage.

You hadn't drunk alone since what Maria had coined the incident; you were surprised at her absent-mindedness in leaving the bottle behind in the first place.

Maybe she was testing you.

Perhaps she had undertaken a quiet hypothesis crafted between her and Tommy, one whispered between pillows after the lights went out.

Let's see how long it takes for her to break.

Dr. Lee's voice rang in your ears. Love is conditional and unconditional. He had said. You are not always walking a tightrope - sometimes you are simply walking. Most often, you felt like the rope.

You had watched your mother's descent into paranoia, only a couple of months before she opted for opioids instead. Maybe that was your destiny; a bottle-shaped grave with the fingers you slipped through muddying your favourite dress with handfuls of dirt.

Soon enough, you and Greg were pulling yourselves from your saddles, exchanging pleasantries and specifics about meeting later on. You found yourself on autopilot, calculating the quickest route home to swallow down whatever feeling was clawing at your throat.

Maybe you were imagining it, but your front porch seemed to linger with Joel's presence. Approaching your door, you could see the ghost of his shape leaning against the wooden railing, you could still smell the musk of his skin, hear the thud of his body hitting the door. The latter made you smile at least.

On the other side of the door sat that stillness you had to fight to not let swallow you. You could never adjust to the emptiness that tried so hard to engulf you, so instead, you sought to destroy it.

An hour passed. Relaxing into the familiar warmth finally seeping through your skin, you caught your reflection passing the mirror on the way out and smiled. Lips stained and teeth bared. You tipped your chin to the sky and searched the ceiling for any hint of a higher being.

"Jesus, if you're there, make this quick." You spoke to the peeling wallpaper.

━━━━━━━━

Maybe nobody was listening.

You had decided it was easier to surrender to Greg's ego, accepting that he in fact had no interest in conversing with you, but talking at you.

You tried not to dwell on the fact that you hadn't uttered more than a couple of words in the past hour, but he seemed content with that.

One thing Greg was good for was his willingness to keep your glass full. His stories eventually all merged in to one, you didn't care to differentiate the names or places.

You hated his mouth. The way words shaped his lips, the strings of saliva stretching from his tongue to teeth as he boasted about how many infected he had cleared a couple of months ago.

"I was supposed to be patrolling more dangerous locations, but Maria wanted someone more senior on the perimeter." He lied.

Before you could endure any more of his heroism, Tommy came barging through the door, his face flushed but simultaneously sickly pale. He only needed to call your name once before you were on your feet, jogging toward him. You hoped he mistook your stumbling for urgency.

“Tommy?” You attempted to keep your breathing regulated.

His response floated in the air around you, never truly sinking in until the words Mia and some kinda allergic reaction fell from his mouth.

You clutched your stomach, unsure if the liquor was finally catching up with you or if your gut knew something you couldn't bring yourself to process. Tommy called your name, underestimating your speed powered by instinct, an invisible string tying you to her, tugging, tugging, tugging.

"I'm coming," you breathed, words disappearing as quickly as they'd formed. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

Maria and Tommy's front door was wide open, scurrying bodies illuminated in the rectangular light running to and fro.

You squeezed your eyes tight, for just a second.

"Please." You begged.

Is anybody still listening?

taglist: apparently my tags don't always work so fingers crossed these come thru? sorry if i forgot anybody - if you want to be added/removed please lmk! @warm-tea-and-otp @mrsquill @ashleymsnodgrass @bluetattoos @mabermaple @hiroikegawa @casssiopeia @joeldjarin @southernbe @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @cool-iguana @drewharrisonwriter @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @randomhoex @ilovepedro @koshkaj-blog @ejuliet999 @love-the-abyss @jellybeanxc @mabermaple @radsanchez @powellssaturn @ok-boke @phoebe13 @ahintofkiwistrawberry @smexy-bucky-waifu @withasideofmeg @darkroastjoel @willowsvalley @forestfaeriequeen @radsanchez @moonlightdivine @noisynightmarepoetry @mysingularitybts @misshoneypaper @ezzynf @spideyyhoe @runningmom94 @disassociation-daydreams @serendipity22086 @lionlena @shotgun-shelby @daddy-din @dins-riduur-anthe @phoebe13 @bageldaddy @sunnyskyapplepie @jenispunk @zeida @joeldjarin

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #my fic #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #dee writes #fic: sun bleached flies

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epochofbelief · 7 months

Text

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Four

A Feysand Modern AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally did it! Shoutout to SZA's song "Saturn" for helping me finish this chapter. I'm so excited for where this is going, everyone. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. No promises on the editing.

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other Feysand AU Fic (Completed)

Chapter Four

Feyre cursed herself for a fool from where she hid, deep in a supply closet on the fifth floor of Tamlin’s environmental empire, Spring Solutions.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. It had taken days for her to convince Tamlin to finally show him around her work. Only after she assured him she wouldn’t leave his side while there had he agreed to let her accompany him to the office on the following Friday morning.

Feyre forced her breaths to remain steady as another person passed by the door, the band of light between the door and the floor guttering with the motion.

“Where the hell is she?” A muffled, angry voice filtered through the walls around her.

But then the sound of the footsteps, along with the angry voice, receded.

Feyre took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She placed her hand on the cool metal of the door handle and pushed.

Three Days Earlier

The newfound knowledge of Tamlin’s alleged crimes slowly ate away at Feyre over the next several days. She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork. She missed a cold call in class. Her father called twice and she actually managed to ignore him.

When Tamlin returned on the following Monday, Feyre had to force herself to act as if nothing had changed. She let him touch her, kiss her, wax poetic about how much he had missed her.

Before he proceeded directly into his study to get back to work.

Feyre was on pins and needles for the hours he sat at his computer. She waited for the moment he somehow discovered she had accessed his computer and came to demand an explanation.

But he never did.

And so Feyre began to execute the next part of her plan.

When she came home from school on Tuesday, she gushed about how much she was enjoying her environmental law class. Tamlin listened intently, sitting forward on the couch as she paced in front of him, declaring her newfound intentions to pursue a career in environmental law. Lucien, who had been present for Feyre’s little performance, leaned against the kitchen counter behind Tamlin, eyebrows creeping higher and higher as Feyre delivered her monologue.

“That’s great, honey. I’m so glad you love this stuff as much as I do,” Tamlin said, eyes shining with sincerity. Feyre bit back her disgust.

“I really do,” Feyre said. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you would be open to me shadowing you at work. I would love to talk to some of your in-house counsel, just get a feel for what environmental law looks like in the real world.”

Tamlin sat straight up.

“Oh. Really?”

Feyre nodded, ignoring Lucien as he folded his arms at her words, his eyes tracking her every movement.

“Let me think about it,” was all Tamlin said. Feyre didn’t want to risk pressing harder, so she dropped the subject for the night.

But the next day, she resumed her prodding. Asked Tamlin if he had had time to think about it. After receiving a similar response, she waited until Thursday to ask once more.

In the intervals in between, Feyre found herself looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. On the train to and from the law school, during her walks in the park, while she was at the gym. She knew the FBI had to be on her trail, but never once did she catch a glimpse of Special Agents Claret or Lapis. And though she knew there was no possibility that Rhysand was the one observing her, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of her life if he was watching. Her quiet, appallingly small life. If he was watching, he would see her utter lack of a social circle, the disgusting amount of hours she spent hunched over her books, snacking on chips from the vending machine and whatever form of caffeine was closest.

It was probably better that Rhysand wasn’t the one watching.

On Thursday, Tamlin at last relented. He offered to meet Feyre at his office the next morning, for an hour before his lunch meeting.

And Feyre had duly accepted.

After her Friday morning class, she took the train back downtown, getting off at a stop about a block away from the enormous high-rise building that housed Spring Solutions. The receptionist, a young woman who looked to be a few years older than Feyre, struck up a conversation with her as they waited for Tamlin to emerge from the elevators that led up to his floor.

“I’m Ianthe,” the receptionist said, long blonde hair cascading over narrow shoulders, her sky-blue dress making her eyes pop. “You must be Feyre.”

Feyre gave Ianthe a nervous grin, shaking her perfectly manicured hand. This woman must spend hours on her makeup every morning. Her skin was absolutely flawless, lower eyelids lined with white, black mascara only further emphasizing those piercing blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Ianthe beamed. “Tamlin’s mentioned you a few times. I feel like I practically know you already.”

Feyre sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Ah.” Tamlin had never mentioned his gorgeous receptionist Ianthe. And yet he had been talking to Ianthe about Feyre so much that Ianthe already felt like she knew her?

Feyre reminded herself that jealousy was not a productive emotion. Especially when her boyfriend was in all likelihood a white collar criminal.

As Ianthe asked her about law school, Feyre wondered whether the receptionist knew about what went on behind the scenes at Spring Solutions. If there was indeed a “behind-the-scenes” to be spoken of.

Feyre answered Ianthe's questions with the shortest answers possible. But after the basic What practice areas are you considering pursuing? What led you to law school? What did you study in undergrad? questions, Ianthe launched into a monologue about how hard she had worked to decorate the atrium of Tamlin’s business.

Which was even more boring than the Administrative Law class Feyre had taken during her second semester of 2L.

To Feyre’s relief, the elevator to the left of Ianthe’s desk emitted a faint but elegant ding, and Tamlin emerged in his usual crisp, dark suit, his blonde hair perfectly arranged. Feyre pasted a smile onto her face, words sour in her mouth. “Hi, babe.”

Game time, Feyre thought. No matter how hard this would be, perhaps finding evidence of Tamlin's illegal activity would give her a stronger reason to break things off with him.

But hadn’t Rhysand said that Tamlin’s illegal activity would make it even more difficult for Feyre to leave him? Even dangerous?

Feyre shook her head, giving Ianthe a wave over her shoulder as Tamlin guided her into the elevator, a possessive hand on her lower back. Feyre turned to face him in the elevator, casually stepping out of his grip and leaning against the mirrored wall.

“How’s your day?” She asked. “Stressful?”

Tamlin stepped closer, one hand caressing her neck. “Much better now that you’re here.”

Feyre tried not to flinch away.

Gods, one second she was letting him pull her into bed and the next she couldn’t stand the feeling of his touch against her skin.

If she was honest with herself, discovering that he really was a criminal mastermind would probably make her life much less confusing.

Unfortunately, Feyre had to put up with Tamlin’s hands all over her as he toured her around the four floors of the high-rise that his company occupied. She met several accountants, a myriad of consultants, a plethora of assistants. Lucien joined them about halfway through the tour. He greeted Feyre as usual, but kept close behind her as they walked. Feyre couldn’t tell if his green eyes were tracking her every move or if she was just being paranoid.

At last, they reached the top floor—where both Tamlin and Lucien had their offices, and where the in-house legal department resided. Tamlin guided her into a large conference room, where several attorneys were gathered on one side of a long table, a lunchtime feast of sandwiches, chips, and coffee spread before them. It looked like a lunch break in all aspects except one: each attorney had a laptop propped in front of him or her, not even speaking to each other.

So this was what Feyre had to look forward to—work above all things. A twenty-minute lunch break to get to know one’s coworkers? Forget about it.

She knew in-house was different than big law, but if anything, big law firms like Hybern & Night were much more notorious for their bill or die mentality. These in-house attorneys were either unprecedented workhorses, or they were working on something important.

Feyre wondered if it was something illicit.

Feyre shook the three attorneys’ hands, smiling as they introduced themselves. Tamlin, Lucien, and Feyre joined them at the table, and Tamlin plated Feyre a ham-and-cheese sandwich, forgetting once again that she much preferred turkey.

But she smiled, ever the gracious and perfect girlfriend, launching into a stream of pre-prepared questions as the attorneys gave her their full attention. About halfway through the discussion, a secretary of some sort stuck her head into the conference room, telling Tamlin that he had an important phone call on line one. Tamlin excused himself, gesturing for Lucien to accompany him. Feyre waved them off, listening intently to one of the male attorneys—Hart—as he explained the benefits of taking “Tax Accounting for Lawyers” in law school. This rivaled Ianthe’s interior design diatribe in terms of how well it piqued Feyre's interest.

Feyre made herself wait two minutes before she excused herself to use the restroom.

As soon as she was clear of the conference room windows, she had to resist the urge to run. There must be cameras all around, and if she looked like she had a purpose, rather than lost on the way to the bathroom, this whole thing would be over before it began.

So, instead of rushing through the halls, she meandered, looking around herself, eyebrows scrunched together. She really should have pursued acting, rather than law.

At last, she passed what looked like an empty office. She shut herself inside, and almost giggled in nervous relief when she saw a phone on the desk. She picked it up, knowing the chances of it connecting to Tamlin’s line were close to zero—but—

She dialed one.

Tamlin’s voice erupted through the speaker the second her finger hit the button:

“What do you mean they’re not ready?” Tamlin growled.

Feyre almost gasped at the anger, the vitriol, in her boyfriend’s voice.

A muffled voice responded, so quietly Feyre almost missed it in her surprise at the harshness of her partner's tone. “They need another week.”

“We don’t have a week.” That was Lucien. Quieter, but just as tense as Tamlin.

“There’s no way they’ll be ready for you in time.”

“I don’t give two shits whether they’re ready. We’ll be there on the established date, and they better be ready to implement the recommendations we have already provided.”

The muffled voice didn’t respond.

“Brannagh?” Lucien’s voice cut through the silence.

“We’ll see you in a week.”

“Good.”

The receiver clicked. Feyre bit her lip.

This didn’t mean anything. It proved nothing.

But if it didn’t matter, why was Tamlin so angry? And what did “we’ll be there mean? He hadn’t mentioned going out of town again. . . Was this a local job?

Feyre bit her lip, carefully hanging up the phone before easing back out into the hallway, replaying the conversation she had just heard in her head. What did it mean? Was it innocuous or incriminating? Was it enough to bring to Rhysand?

Feyre wandered down the hallway, now truly on the lookout for the restroom. She had just spotted the signs when a man emerged from a conference room down the hall and to her left, clad in a much less expensive looking suit than the one Tamlin had worn, earbuds firmly fixed in his ears.

Feyre froze, but it was too late. He had seen her.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” The man demanded, striding purposefully toward Feyre.

Feyre swallowed, giving a little shrug and a sheepish smile before she turned down another hall, hopeful the man would conclude that she was the lost girlfriend of one of the many men who occupied the Spring Solutions Tower. Because that was at least one thing Feyre had learned about her partner’s business: very few women were employed there, and if they were, they were secretaries or Ianthe.

Unfortunately, Feyre heard the thundering of heavy footsteps behind her as she rushed down the hallway. Shit.

Feyre ducked into another hallway and threw open the first door she saw, breathing a sigh of relief when the sight of a dim janitorial closet greeted her, complete with mop bucket, broom, and shelves full of various cleaning products. Feyre slipped inside, standing where the door would hide her from view if opened, trying not to remember the few times she had convinced her older sisters to play hide-and-seek with her when they were kids.

Nesta rarely agreed, but Elain had played with her on several occasions, humoring her years-younger sister out of the goodness of her heart.

Feyre shook her head, clutching the hem of her suit jacket as heavy footsteps thudded by.

“Where the hell is she, Belfort?” A voice—this one different from the man with the earbuds—sounded from somewhere to her left.

“Do I look like I know?” The earbud man's voice responded.

Feyre swallowed, grateful when the footsteps faded away. Were these men unfamiliar with the layout of the building? Perhaps they were new . . . Or perhaps they didn’t usually work here. Because if Feyre were searching for a potential intruder, the broom closet would be the first place she checked.

She slid out into the hall, relief coursing through her at the sight of the empty hallway. She rushed back the way she came, looking over her shoulder as she turned back into the hallway where she had met the in-house attorneys—

Her chest collided with a wall of muscle, sweaty hands wrapping themselves around her upper arms in a grip that was just a little too tight.

Feyre turned to face her captor, catching a glimpse of hard dark eyes and a tight jaw, downturned lips and a forehead creased with anger, before a voice from behind the man had him straightening up and releasing Feyre.

“Is there a reason you’re manhandling my girlfriend, Belfort?”

Feyre stumbled backward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Tamlin, followed by Lucien and several members of what appeared to be the security team.

“Your girlfriend, sir?” Belfort asked, glaring at Feyre one last time before he turned to face Tamlin. “But—”

Feyre cut him off, striding toward Tamlin and setting a hand on his shoulder. “I got lost on my way to the bathroom. I think they must have thought I was an intruder or something,” she said with a laugh, leaning into her boyfriend’s side.

“Belfort?”

Feyre stared at Belfort and hoped his desire to avoid a disagreement with his boss would win the day.

Evidently it did, because Belfort held up his hands. “My mistake, sir. Please, return to your lunch.”

Tamlin nodded, turning so quickly that he missed the look Feyre caught on Belfort’s face—

It was a look that said, I’m watching you.

------

Feyre stopped at a coffee shop on her way home from Spring Solutions, even allowing herself the time to sit in a booth at the window to drink it. She pulled out her current read—Foster, by Claire Keegan—but the book sat abandoned on the table in front of her as she stared out the wide windows at the streets of Prythian, mulling over the events of the morning.

Tamlin’s anger during his phone call. The man on the other line—Brannagh’s—response. Belfort stalking her through the shiny bright hallways of Spring Solutions just because she had walked down the wrong hallway.

To a court of law, none of this had any meaning.

But that feeling in the pit of Feyre’s stomach, the flash of fear she had felt when Belfort had caught her, the small bruises already forming on her biceps from his grip. . .

Feyre’s instincts told her something was wrong, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she discovered exactly why.

She took a sip of her coffee, sighing through her nose, resolving to give herself ten minutes to collect her thoughts before she walked the rest of the way home to resume studying.

But any chance to calm herself flew out the window when a man slid into the booth across from her.

Feyre jumped a mile high before she registered the hazel eyes, the classically beautiful features, and the scarred hands.

“Agent Lapis,” she breathed.

The SA held up a hand, his lips pursed. “Please, call me Azriel.”

Feyre glanced around her, as if she hoped to catch a glance of Cassian—or Rhysand—hovering somewhere nearby. But the rest of the cafe was occupied by innocuous coffee drinkers and several students with books and laptops spread across the tables in front of them.

“Azriel,” Feyre said, forcing herself to take another drink from her coffee.

“I’m here for your answer,” he said, eyes scanning the room even as he spoke to her.

When Feyre didn’t respond, his gaze snapped to hers. Whatever he saw there put a frown on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Feyre shifted in her seat, and couldn’t resist the reflexive look she gave the bruises on her biceps.

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening on the mug of coffee on the table between them. “What happened,” he breathed, his voice soft, but so lethal it sent goosebumps erupting over the back of Feyre’s neck.

“I got into Spring Solutions today,” Feyre started, but Azriel was already shaking his head.

“We know. What happened inside?” He asked, giving her upper left arm a pointed glance.

Feyre quickly and succinctly relayed the events of her time in Spring Solutions to Azriel, whose stoic expression didn’t waver as he listened.

“None of it means anything,” Feyre finished, running her hands through her hair. “But—I can’t explain it. Something just felt . . . wrong.”

Azriel shook his head. “It might not seem important or groundbreaking to you now, Feyre. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. Any detail learned now could always be useful later. And while none of what you told me today is enough for an indictment. . . It certainly could be if we learned more information.”

Feyre nodded, staying quiet. It was clear Azriel had more to say.

“You did a good thing, today, getting inside Spring Solutions. But if you agree to work with us, we’ll have to establish some ground rules. For your safety, and the good of the investigation.”

“My safety?”

Azriel nodded. “Rhys almost marched into that high-rise after you as soon as we sent him word you had gone there to meet Tamlin.”

Feyre blinked. “Rhys—Rhys knows I got inside?”

Azriel lifted a brow. “He’s the one leading this investigation. We keep him apprised of all notable updates.”

“Ah,” Feyre said, ignoring the cascade of confusing emotions that had unfurled inside her chest and stomach as soon as Azriel had said the words Rhys almost marched in after you.

“But the protocols will come later. What I came here to ask you today was whether you had decided.”

Feyre didn’t ask for further explanation. She knew what the SA meant.

She also knew her answer.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting Azriel’s. “I’ll do it.”

-----

Author's Note: More Rhys is coming, I swear :)

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #rhysand #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #feyre x rhysand #feysand modern au

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Note

Hello, could you write about Daemon x Fem!Reader? Could you base it on Two Birds by Regina Spektor? Daemon and the reader are friends and little by little they fall in love, but the reader has always been in delicate health and little by little he dies, but not before getting in a relationship with Daemon. I'm looking forward to reading something sad and sweet. Thanks 🥺

(Gif not mine)

Title: Two Birds

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,783

Warnings: Fluff, illness, angst, blood, death, murder. Edit: I forgot to mention Daemon's vulgar language. Whoops.

Summary: Daemon never believed his oldest friend, Y/n was sick. Until one day he’s forced to acknowledge its existence.

A/N: How dare you request one of my favorite songs. Get ready for some angst y'all because this song was the only thing I listened to while writing this 😈

(I do not consent for my works to be reposted/copied)

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away And the other watches him close from that wire He says he wants to as well But he is a liar

“Ao gīmigon, ziry iksos dangerous naejot geron mērī mijegon iā escort.”

[You know, it’s dangerous for you to walk alone without an escort.]

Y/n looks up from her book, marking her spot in one hand while brushing the hair out of her face with the other. The gardens are emptier than before she had sat down to read, and now it was only her and the Targaryen prince standing over her. Daemon’s shadow towered Y/n, blocking the sunlight from warming her usual sickly skin. He had his long, silver hair pinned behind his ears and his arms folded behind him as he raised a curious eyebrow.

Sighing, the fair lady closes her book completely and stands, “You know I don’t speak Valyrian so why must you speak to me in a language I don’t understand?”

“In the hopes that you’ll learn it one day,” he grinned, unfolding his arms and offering one to her, “Let us begin. Uēpa raqiros.”

“Uēpa raqiros,” her accent is flat for the time being, but her pronunciation was good. Y/n loops her arm around Daemon’s and he leads the both of them down the path of the gardens, “I recognize ‘friend’ but not the other word.”

“‘Old friend.’“

“I’m not that old,” she scrunched her nose up.

“I never said you were my friend,” Daemon smirked but quickly reverted to laughter when the lady hit his shoulder with the broad side of her book. She huffs, unlocking their arms and walking ahead of the prince in a flurry of skirts.

“If you were only seeking my presence to mock me, you have succeeded and are free to leave me now,” Y/n scolds, despite not having much heat behind her words. She knew her friend well enough to know that he only ever teased her to get a rise.

“I actually came to see if you wanted to fly on Caraxes later this evening,” Daemon caught up to Y/n without ever quickening his pace, playfully bumping shoulders with her as they walked side by side, “It’s a beautiful day and you could use some fresh air and not this... pile of shit King’s Landing calls 'air.'”

She hums, closing her eyes to briefly take in the warmth of the sun. The maesters have said time and time again that she would be healthier if she were to spend her days outside, taking in the sun and the air as her medicine. But no matter how many times she insists, they don’t believe she ever listens. Y/n nearly spends her whole days outside, and yet the maesters doubt she ever steps foot outside the castle. Today was a day she felt a little faint, and so the idea of getting on the back of a dragon terrified her.

“I best not,” she sighs, a little downtrodden, “Maester says I shouldn’t be doing any ‘exciting’ movements today.”

Daemon scowls, “The maesters wouldn’t know how to pull a thorn out of a toe even if the pliers sat right beside them. No one can decide what’s best for you other than you, Y/n.”

Her footsteps stop and so Daemon is also forced to do so. He sighs, regretting the words the moment they left his lips. He turns back to his friend, but the lady only offers a sad attempt of a smile, “You may do as you please, my prince. But I cannot. All my life, men have decided what’s best for me and they shall do so for the rest of my life as well... no matter how short of a life it might be.”

“Don’t,” Daemon shakes his head, immediately sporting a wide smile and quickly grabbing Y/n’s arm to continue their walk, “It’ll be a long life. A good life. No more talk of... whatever thoughts plague you. Whoever told you such things is a cunt.”

Y/n snorts, amused, and decides to drop the subject for her friend’s sake. No matter what she says, she can’t force Daemon to picture her as a sickly girl. He’s never believed it and continues to believe that she’ll live longer than even his little niece. Once upon a time, Y/n thought Daemon refused to acknowledge her health because he lost his parents at such a young age, but now she wondered if he was just mad enough to actually believe she was a picture of health.

They take a short ride to the Dragonpit after Y/n promised to watch Daemon fly off. As he mounts Caraxes, Y/n stood close with a mischievous smile on her lips, “Where will you go this time? Perhaps to finally be with your lady wife?”

The instant disgust that twists into Daemon’s expression forces her into a fit of laughter that quickly leads to harsh coughing, but she grins despite gasping for air. She tilts her head back up to smile at Daemon and he relents once he caught onto the joke.

“The day I go to be with my lady wife is the day I am to bury her in the dirt,” Daemon spat, glancing up at the sky and then back down to his friend, “Umbagon syt nyke, uēpa raqiros.”

[Wait for me, old friend.]

Y/n nods, recognizing that small phrase as one he often said to her, and remembers the proper response he taught her, “Hae bōsa hae mazēza.”

[As long as it takes.]

He grins and then orders his dragon to fly. Caraxes takes off, leaving a gust of wind behind that nearly knocks Y/n off her feet when she had moved to be at a safe distance. She smiles to herself while watching the two fly away until they’re a speck in the sky, imagining what it must feel like up there. She wished she accepted his invitation, but a part of her knows how frail her heart can be. If she were to fly up to the sky, she may not ever come back down.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One says c'mon and the other says "I'm tired" The sky is overcast and I'm sorry One more or one less Nobody's worried

She finds herself in the Dragonpit again, waiting to see Daemon off once more, only this time, she worries that she might not see him for a while. Viserys has chosen Rhaenyra as his heir after the death of his wife, and now Daemon is exiled to Dragonstone or until he finally consummates his marriage to Lady Royce. If Daemon was angry, he didn’t show it, but Y/n knew her friend, and she knew that Daemon often showed his anger in violent actions and often never showed what his next move would be on his face. A storm is brewing behind those eyes, but no one is aware of it other than his oldest friend.

He approached her as he was just about ready to leave and Y/n tries to talk to keep the silence at bay, “It will be good for you. Dragonstone is your ancestral home and you’ll be better off governing a small keep over a large kingdom. This is something new and exciting. It should keep you occupied.”

“I don’t need to be entertained like a spoiled, bored child,” Daemon sneered, though it wasn’t nearly as hateful, the last of the sentence dying on his tongue when he remembered who he was talking to. He lowers his gaze, regrettably, “At least not whenever someone as competent as you is around. You can come with me, Y/n.”

“And anger my father?”

“He’s an arse--”

“--Who is my father.”

“He’s a drunken fool. You needn’t listen to a drunk who won’t remember your arguments come the morrow.”

Y/n laughs softly under her breath, shaking her head at the ground before glancing back up at Daemon. The Rogue Prince softens his gaze, stepping closer and leaning his head down further to her height, eyes near pleading, “Come with me. There’s fresh air in Dragonstone.”

Her eyebrows droop, pity in her eyes as her mouth opens and closes to try and form the best rejection. Instead, only a weak response is let out in the form of a whisper, “I’m tired, Daemon.”

His jaw visibly tightens but he doesn’t say another word. His gaze hardens but he doesn’t look disgusted or angry, just disappointed. It’s not as though he should be surprised by her answer. Nothing had changed since the last time he asked. He may be a dragon, but Y/n is a flightless bird. Daemon turns and without looking back, climbs up onto Caraxes’ saddle, only looking up at the sky ahead of them.

“Umbagon syt nyke, uēpa raqiros.”

Daemon nearly falls off his saddle when the words he usually speaks are thrown back at him. Surprised, he looks down at Y/n and merely nods his head, automatically responding without thought, “Hae bōsa hae mazēza.”

Y/n smiles, blinking back a tear as she instinctively backs up. When Daemon takes flight again, she doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, she walks out of the Dragonpit, with the heavy thought of never needing to go back there again.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire He says that he will But he's just a liar

Years pass and Daemon only gets one brief interaction with Y/n when he comes back to the Capitol as King of the Stepstones, hair cut and framing a crown. Unfortunately, he’s exiled again that very same day, and he’s gone before Y/n was even aware of his departure.

Their next interaction, however, lasts longer. Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding ceremony rolls around and no one expected Daemon to show. But he did, and it didn’t take long for him to corner his old friend with two wine goblets in hand.

“Still not into dancing?” He grins while offering a cup to her.

Y/n is a little timid but doesn’t turn away the drink. She swirls the wine and watches the liquid dance before looking up and sporting an amused grin, “Nyke jorrāelagon ziry. Yn ziry iksos se maesters qilōni pendagon ziry tolī exhausting va ñuha rytsāri.”

[I love it. But it’s the maesters who believe it’s exhausting for my health.]

Daemon’s eyes widened a fraction before his own smile spreads in delight, “Impressive.”

“Rhaenyra’s always been the better teacher,” her smirk makes an appearance before disappearing behind the lip of her cup, eyes twinkling as she watches Daemon's expression while she took a sip. He rolls his eyes, and for a moment they’re young again and close friends who roam the gardens together. Y/n thumps his shoulder lightly, “Admit it. You never had the patience to teach me anything.”

“I never had the patience for you to finally listen to my teachings,” he gripes back.

The words sting, but Y/n doesn’t let it show, gulping down her wine and looking out onto the dancefloor, “I’m sorry to hear about Lady Royce. Terrible to die doing the thing you’re best skilled at.”

“Indeed. I shall mourn her as any widowed husband should.”

“How? With celebration?” Daemon looks back and catches the knowing twinkle in her eye as she scoffs, “You don’t need to fool anyone, my prince. Especially me.”

He lets his smile grow under her trust, watching the dancing crowd alongside her as she comments, “I suppose a place such as this is a good place to start looking for a new wife. Lady Westerling is the one in yellow over there, and of course, Laena Velaryon is hard to miss. Lyonel Strong has two daughters, I believe. They should be around.”

Daemon inspects the women in question as he asks his own, “And what about you?”

She glances back at him, “What about me?”

He looks back at her, “Have you no husband?”

Y/n paused any quips from leaving her lips, lowering her goblet and reminding herself to breathe. Slowly, she looked away, “I’m not fit for marriage, Daemon. Even my father says so.”

“Fuck that,” the Rogue Prince growled, leaning into her space so that she can hear him over the cheers and laughter, “You’re the most comely lady in this room. Any man with more brains than balls would want to marry the family friend of the crown. My brother looks at you and sees a younger sister, someone he’s known her whole life. Anyone who wants his good graces would marry you.”

Y/n huffs in amusement, “I would not make a good wife and I would not live long enough to be a good mother.”

“Y/n,” she nearly loses her footing when Daemon grabbed both of her arms and forced her to face him, glaring into her very soul with angry passion, “Shut up. Stop thinking about all those things the maesters told you for just one second and think about you. You’re miserable here. King’s Landing is no place for someone who can barely breathe. It’s full of shit and crowds and the summers are unbearable. You would not be sick if you were to come to Dragonstone. There’s wind and rain and grass... one day you’ll wake up and realize you haven’t felt ill in ages. I want you to come home with me. I need you to.”

“Daemon--”

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha hontes.”

[I love you, my bird.]

Y/n’s eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat as her mind calculates the foreign words. Doubtful, she swallows to wet her dry throat, “... I don’t know what that means.”

Daemon straightens his back, towering over her again but didn’t let go of her arms, “Yes you do.”

Her shoulders slump, trying to come up with a proper excuse that wouldn’t break either of their hearts, “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking, I’m proposing,” one of his hands moves down her arm, sending shivers down her back as his hand finds hers. He lifts her hand until it’s placed flat on his chest, adjusting it to sit over his heart, his free hand gently pinching her chin to keep their eyes locked together, “Marry me, Y/n. Imagine all that we once had returned in tenfold. No one could tell us what to do. We’ll be free. Kesan dōrī drējī sagon dāez ēva ao sōvegon lēda nyke.”

[I’ll never truly be free until you fly with me.]

Her heart leaps and for a moment, she thought it had lept from her throat and flown off. She couldn’t deny how much she had missed and longed for Daemon in the years they’d been apart, and she was glad that the feeling of loss was mutual. But a part of her brain reminded her that she was still a sickly girl and she was only going to get worse. Despite Daemon’s promise of fresh air in Dragonstone, there’s no guarantee she’ll live long enough to enjoy it as much as he does.

“I won’t be a good wife, Daemon. I cannot give you children.”

“Who cares? I don’t want children. I don’t need children. I need you,” he steps even closer to her, “Just you.”

Whatever answer she gave him is drowned out by the screams of terror and the sound of fists meeting flesh. In the chaos of Joffrey Lonmouth’s murder, everyone is too distracted to catch Daemon Targaryen slipping away with Lady Y/n. It wasn’t until morning did people notice the pair’s absence, and by then, the couple had found a septon to marry them, binding them as one before anyone could object.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away and the other Watches him close from that wire He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar

Dragonstone was everything Daemon said it would be and more. Y/n had only been there once before after Queen Aemma passed away but now as she lived there to watch the seasons pass, she could see why her husband spoke highly of his ancestral home. In celebration of their marriage, they flew to Dragonstone on the back of Caraxes. It was the first time Y/n ever flew on dragonback and yet again, Daemon was right. She had never felt freer.

Unfortunately, she began aggressively coughing once they reached their destination, and she was embarrassed to have ruined the mood. But Daemon wasn’t bothered. He confidently stated that soon enough the fresh air will cure her and she’ll never have to worry about it again.

And for a while, it did. She took it easy at first and slowly noticed the effects of Daemon’s ‘medicine’ positively affecting her. Y/n began to swim in the ocean, jumping from high cliffs and splashing into the sea. She ran through the fields of long grass aligning her small island of paradise, picking up flowers and smelling their sweet aroma. And best of all, she clung to her husband as they flew above the clouds, basking in the heat of Caraxes' fire when he roared and chirped. Y/n, for the first time, did things that she thought she would never be able to do in her lifetime. She was better and healthier than ever.

Until winter came.

Her sickness came back and in full force, worse than it’s ever been before. She became so dizzy that she could barely stand. Her coughing fits would get so terrible, she would cough up blood. She could barely eat or drink, until finally, she was forced to remain in her bed, day and night, and could only move about her room with the help of another.

The maesters in Dragonstone concur with the ones back in King’s Landing and in the Citadel. They have all seen this before in all sorts of illnesses. The patient would always get better before the sickness got worse. And most times, it was fatal.

Daemon cut off the hand of the maester who told him to prepare for the worst and say his goodbyes before it was too late. Instead of listening, Daemon acted as though nothing was wrong. He spent most of his days in his wife’s room as well, talking normally, speaking of certain subjects only she would know. He never once mentioned her sickness and blatantly ignored it at times... except when Y/n would start a coughing fit. Those were the times Daemon would acknowledge it. He always tended to her, either offering her a handkerchief or a cup of water or rubbing her back. If Y/n wasn’t so occupied with her illness, she would have seen a window of vulnerability on her husband’s face whenever she had to stop talking to cough until her eyes were wet with tears.

One morning, Y/n was too weak to even sit up in bed. She had spent the entire night coughing and wheezing, she couldn’t even sleep for an hour. She had lost all color in her face and her hair was damp with sweat, a small basin filled with her blood and stomach contents sat on the floor beside her bed. Daemon was awake with her the whole night, at her side, only occasionally drifting off before moving into action when Y/n’s coughs would start up again.

Her throat is raw and her voice is quiet, her tone nothing like her own. It was like rock scrapping against rock and nothing like her usual, angelic voice. She barely spoke, but when she did, it was always optimistic. It was almost as though she believed Daemon’s former confidence in her.

“I’ll be alright,” she would whisper, coughing into her handkerchief, “It’s as... you said. I’ll get better when spring comes... comes back. It’s my first winter here. I just need to get used to... it.”

Daemon carefully watches her in response, never saying a word. It was chilling to hear his wife repeat his words back to him as if they had switched personalities. He wasn’t sure if she only spoke in confidence to reassure him, or if she had become delusional in her illness and she truly believed she would heal.

“I want to go see Cara-- Caraxes tomorrow,” she told him, barely hanging onto Daemon’s hand as she lay in bed that fateful morning. She was staring up at the ceiling, although her eyes appeared glassy and far away, “We’ll go flying. We’ll fly across the Narrow Sea until we reach Essos--”

Her coughs start and her body convulses as she spits out scarlet red. Daemon quickly helps her lay on her side so she wouldn’t choke on her own blood, assisting in rubbing her back and pushing loose hairs out of her face. Y/n’s whole body shakes uncontrollably and nothing can be heard outside of her coughs.

Daemon feels sick, clenching his jaw while trying to focus on something to do other than the coughing. He can’t find the right words to say, for once, and he was fighting an internal war with words that won’t come out. Every instinct is telling him to run, fly, and try to get as far away from Dragonstone as soon as possible. His adult self wanted to protect his inner child from the horrors of death, wanting to shield himself from the pain he felt when he lost his parents or his cousin Aemma. Watching his family members die was horrific for Daemon, as a child, and as a man. He refused to ever let another loved one die in his lifetime, and perhaps that foolish part of him is what really killed Y/n in the end.

Y/n wheezed, despite Daemon’s inner thoughts. She was no longer strong enough to read his thoughts anyway, “I think Rhaenyra is... having a baby soon. Her first. We should... be there for her when the time comes.”

He can only nod, despite Y/n not looking at him. He can’t find it within himself to look at her either, instead watching as his thumb caressed her bare shoulder. Eventually, Y/n’s body relaxes to his touch, humming softly when the tickle in her throat dies down.

“What... what do you think Pentos is like?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes his time rearranging the pillow under her head, tears finally forming in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away and the other...

Daemon never took his eyes off the funeral pyre.

Not when Caraxes engulfed it in flames, not when people came to offer their condolences, and not even when everyone had gone back to King’s Landing. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone, not even to the servant girl who came into Y/n’s room that morning to find her dead and the prince at her side. The girl wasn’t at all surprised, just heartbroken. She didn’t seem to notice the iron grip Daemon had on the bloody pillow in his lap.

Daemon remembered his brother and his niece standing on either side of him, holding onto his hand or his shoulder, but if they ever said anything, he couldn’t remember. Eventually, they left, too, leaving the cold air to surround him in their absence. He had been left alone, watching the flames of his wife’s funeral pyre dance and rise into the sky. His eyes eventually follow the flames and note the dark clouds in the distance, slowly making their way over. In the corner of his eye, Daemon spots two small birds flying overhead, and for whatever reason, they made him smile.

“Umbagon syt nyke, ñuha jorrāelagon...”

[Wait for me, my love...]

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m sorry if the Valyrian is not correct. I had to use a translator. I gotta admit, writing Daemon is hard. I love him as a character, but I feel as though I didn’t represent his personality enough. It is my first time writing him, so maybe I just need to get used to it and rewatch House of the Dragon lol. Please interact and support! If you have a request, leave it in my inbox!

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #dance of dragons #matt smith #matt smith imagine #matt smith x reader

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