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m2ok · 2 months

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Golden Salvation

pt.2

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Male Reader

A/N: HI GUYS!!! IM BACK!!! It’s been… a hot minute, and I apologize for my sudden disappearance (And all the unanswered asks which I will eventually get to don’t worry!) But here is a fic to make up for it! This is just part one, and while I have the rest planned out let me know if you guys even like this and want me to continue :)

Batwing doors opened, a heavy squeak following their movement as the result of rusted hinges, Heavy footsteps hit against equally creaky wooden floors with slow and methodical steps. One Simon Riley came waltzing in… a smirk on his face and his hat tilted low over his eyes as the other people in the saloon looked away.

Everyone knew of him; it was damn near impossible not to with his reputation. He sat down on a worn stool, a gruff sigh leaving his lips as he took his hat off and rested it on the bar in front of him. His eyes, you would swear, glimmered when he looked up at you from his place on his seat, a rare moment when you were taller than him.

“Hi, pretty boy” he cooed “Miss me much?”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips, rolling your eyes as you set the glasses you had been polishing down. Without so much as a word yet you leaned over, plucking his hat from the wood it was settled on to place it on your head instead, a sort of teasing only you could hope to get away with.

“Hey there, Cowboy” you said, flicking the hat, his hat, up over your eyes so you could see properly. “’Course I missed ya… yer my favorite customer after all” Though you teased, you both knew he was much more than a regular customer.

Simons lips curled into an easy smirk as he gazed up at you, eyebrows quirking with intrigue.

“Well now, aint you looking pretty as a picture” he drawled, reaching up to trace his thumb along your jawline. A low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest- he always did love your teasing spirit.

“Favorite, huh? Reckon I’ll hold ya to that, darling” His eyes darkened just a touch as he leaned in, breath whispering against your skin. There was an unspoken question there, a hungry gleam that promised all sorts of trouble if you chose to indulge him.

For now, Simon simply toyed with the worn brim of his hat atop your head, satisfaction radiating off him in waves.

“Sure, do feel mighty fine seein’ my colors on ya. Been far too long” he’d comment.

You would hum as you leaned into his gentle touch, an almost laughable dichotomy when compared to the blood that had been spilled by them. You gazed up at him with adoring, devoted eyes.

“I could be in your colors every night if youd stay” you’d whisper, your words for him and only him to hear. It was almost impossible to get Simon to stay with you longer than a week anymore and he would get antsy to hit the wild again, his soul calling for him to wander from town to town.

Simon’s breath hitched at your words; eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the simple intimacy you graced him with. Things were never simple with him – his was a dangerous line of work that more often than not left him with a target on his back.

And yet…the way you looked at him, like he hung the very stars in the sky…it was downright bewitching. Made a man forget all his wrongs and want to be redeemed.

“Darlin’” he sighed, rough palms gently cupping your cheek. His expression was unusually soft and vulnerable, a rare peek behind a steely façade. “Aint nothin’ I want more than to stay wrapped up in you forever…but ya know I got debts to pay, and it aint safe…”

His voice trailed off, unspoken realities lingering heavily in the air between you two. Staying was a risk he wasn’t sure he had the right to take, no matter how much you stirred his soul.

You would nod, glancing away from his eyes as you slowly leaned back up from where you were resting on your elbows, allowing his hand to leave your cheek as you created a space of distance. Both physically and mentally.

All you wanted was to be his entirely, but it wasn’t in the cards for you. “I know…” you’d acknowledge, a sad sort of smile permeating your lips. Part of you believed he liked the outlaw life, and could you rightly blame him? Going from town to town with nothing tethering you down for too long. Being able to leave with the sunrise, the only person you were answering to being yourself.

But oh how you longed every night to be the thing he wanted to come home to, to be the reason he would stay.

You would carefully take the hat off your head, placing it back down on his own, your actions a silent understanding of his words.

Simon would frown as you withdrew, immediately missing the reassuring presence of you in his space. He knew this life caused you pain – knew he was the source of it, in a way. But old habits die hard, and walking the outlaw’s path was engrained deep in his blood.

Reaching up, his fingers curled carefully around your wrist before you could pull away fully. Not to stop you, merely to offer quiet solace in his touch.

“I ain’t never meant to string you along, darlin’” he said gruffly “Fact is… part of me does like ridin’ the wind. But another part…” His gazed flicked meaningfully to where his hand held you, imploring you to believe the sincerity in his eyes.

“Another part thinks it might be time to settle. Plant my feet somewhere they can’t be dug up so easy. And there ain’t no other plot of soil that calls to me like you do”

It was as close to a declaration as Simon had ever come. His walls were crumbling away piece by piece in your presence.

You would carefully pry his hand from his wrist, picking up your rag and a fresh glass to polish, avoiding his eyes as you worked. “I believe you Simon, really I do…But that’s only part of you” Youd say, stealing a glance over at him.

“I couldn’t ask you to ignore that other part, what kinda man would I be if I asked that of you?” you’d say.

Simons fingers flexed instinctively as your hand slipped free, the loss resonating deep in his core. He sighed, long and low, tipped hat casting shadows across his weathered features.

You spoke the brutal truth – he was far too wild a creature to ever truly be named. And you, with your heart of gold…you deserved someone whole, not half a man forever torn between two worlds.

“I reckon yer right, as usual” He said gruffly, rueful smile playing at his lips. And yet his eyes remained dark, conflicted, as if desperately seeking an alternative solution you both knew did not exist.

This was your tragedy, written in the stars from the beginning. Two souls who fit together perfectly, if only the fates had not made them for different paths.

Reaching out, Simon gave your hand a final gentle squeeze before releasing in once more. “Ya never stop amazin’ me darlin’. I sure as hell don’t deserve ya. But I aim to prove myself worthy, one of these days.”

His words trailed off into weighted silence. For now, this was goodbye. Somewhere deep in his soul Simon swore it wouldn’t be the last, couldn’t be.

Simon rose from the stool with a grunt, his hat settled over his brow as he gave the saloon one last lingering sweep. Memories of your sweetness lingered in every splintered beam, in every scratch in the wooden floor where his bootheels had worn down the polish of years past.

This place had become more home to him than any house of sticks or stones ever could, all because of you.

With a sigh, Simon pushed through those familiar batwing doors out into the dusty street. Sunset painted the sky a flaming orange, shadows stretched long across the dirt. Another night was falling…and he had a debt to collect before morning came.

But in his heart of hearts, he felt a seed had planted, a hope that one day he might return to stay. For good.

You would retreat to your little home for the night after closing the saloon, doing your best to put the conversation in a box in your mind as you slipped into bed for the night. Another evening with the other side cold as the steel Simon holstered. You could only bite back tears as you closed your eyes, desperate to find solace in sleep.

It wasn’t but three hours later, after you had long drifted off into the reprieve that was your dreamscape, that you were awoken to the sound of glass shattering. You would jolt up, heart nearly beating out of your chest as a figure stalked into the room, their movements slow and at ease before they stepped into the moonlight and their face came into view.

“well well well…” the man said, a dark glint in his eyes “If it aint Ghosts little plaything” The man grinned, hand on the hilt of his belt as he took out his gun, pointing it right at you.

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x male reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x male reader #fanfic #male reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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prythianpages · 4 months

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Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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superhoeva · 8 days

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𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 – 𝐜. 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, +𝟏𝟖) | an oldie but a goodie. the song is nothing can change this love by sam cooke. warnings include language, carmen being scared of good things, bodily fluid (mentioned), subby!carmen, soft fdom!reader, edging, and blowjob(s), handjob(s). pretty please reblog with a thought if you liked! <3 (wc - 3.3k)

The request has his brain short-circuiting because what?

“I said dance with me, Carmen.”

The look on his face–eyes blown wide and wild, expression something close to startled–tugs your mouth into a grin.

“Dance?” His face pinches as he repeats the word that feels foreign falling off his tongue. He doesn’t dance. He’s never danced. “I don’t dance. I’ve never danced.”

You can only grin wider. Gosh, he’s cute. The way his curls fall into his face, the steam that previously soared off the pan of chicken that now sits in the oven you can thank for that. Carmen’s eyes–no. His electric, striking, bewitching orbs of Nordic stare into the depths of your very soul as you slink from your spot against the counter and ease over to him. They’re full of fascination and a little hesitancy, but he doesn’t flinch when you reach for his hands.

He glances down at the way your skin heats his. When he raises his gaze, you’re even closer. His tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip, and he quietly repeats, “I-I don’t dance, sweet thing. And the chicken, the foods in the oven, I gotta make sure it doesn’t–”

A gentle squeeze of his hard shoulder quiets him. He blows out a sigh.

“You just put it in, Bear,” you remind him, and he sighs again. “Please just indulge me for a little bit? Thirty seconds tops.”

Carmen sniffs, thinking. You take the second to start the song you’d queued up. The soft entrance of a slow, swinging piano and bass and guitar through a nearby speaker startles Carmy back into reality. His chest rises with a tight breath at the voice that fills the room, and his entire body stiffens when you politely guide him closer to you.

He focuses intently on the way your palms slide up his arms. You stop at his biceps and rub your thumbs in a calming motion.

“It’s just, I’ve never,” he tries, hands squeezing into tight fists, completely unsure. “Never done this before.”

You nod because you want him to know that you hear him.

“I know, Carm.” You keep nodding, grasp slipping to grab his stiff arms and pull them down. They take on a mind of their own, automatically settling onto your hips. “But all you have to do is sway, okay? Just sway for thirty seconds. If you don’t like it, we can stop.”

So that’s what he does. And he’s as tense as you’ve ever felt or seen him. But he indulges you. And sways for much longer than thirty seconds.

Carmy doesn’t even notice when his eyes close, forehead tilting to press into yours. His grip becomes a little more sure and the time that passes seems to seep all the rigidity of his body right out.

By the chorus of the song, the two of you are moving in an effortless sync. He’s nearly wrapped all the way around you now, body pressed against yours as the weight of him sinks against you. It isn’t until the guitar solo that he pries open his eyes, face warming when he realizes you’re already looking back.

“I like this song,” he finally mumbles, voice small. “What is it?”

“Nothing Can Change This Love,” you whisper back. “Sam Cooke. One off his ninth album, I think.”

Carmen hms with a little nod. “Sam Cooke.”

“Yeah.”

Carmen’s face lights up with a closed-mouth smile. You match him, body shaking with the huffing laugh that leaves you. When the song ends, neither of you has the strength to pull away. You stand with your arms around his neck. Only now registering that, despite the absence of any music, you’re still swaying. With Carmen leading.

“...Can, uh, can we keep dancin’? Just for a little longer?”

He doesn’t meet your gaze when he asks, eyes tilted downwards. Tightening your arms, you reach and press a long, sweet kiss on his jawline. His eyes threaten to flutter shut at the feeling.

“‘Course, Bear. What song?” You mumble against Carmen’s skin. He doesn’t answer right away, instead taking a finger under your chin and directing your mouth to his. Pausing in his dancing, the man kisses you deep, needy. He only pulls away when his lungs force him to, but only enough to shake his head.

“No song. Just you.”

The words pull forth a smile with your nod. Carmen, eyes dancing across every inch of your face, returns the smile shyly.

This time when you dance–to the muted sounds of a busy evening that pour in through a closed kitchen window, the low-frequency hum sung by the building's electrical system, and the breathing of two intertwined souls falling deeper in love–Carmen holds you even closer. Tighter, with his eyes closed once more and chin sitting atop the skin of your shoulder. You smell like him and you, a perfect mix of something familiar and something newer that makes him feel like he’s floating.

In the past, good things have always scared Carmen. They still do, as they always come along with uncertainty. Happiness, joy, enjoyment, good things never fail to backfire and leave him to deal with the unfavorable repercussions. Stuck in a place where he is forced to face the fact that he shouldn’t have good things. That he can’t have good things.

Yet, as he stands here, you in his arms and him in yours, the tranquil air of the room lowers his guard. The pleasant, happy feeling in his everywhere allows him to enjoy this. Enjoy you. Enjoy the safety you bring without any dreadful feelings trailing behind it. He’s sure they’ll come sometime later, but he doesn’t think about that now because he doesn’t need to. You’ve got him.

It’s later after a hearty dinner of chicken with vegetables and half an hour of you watching some rerun on the television while Carmen watches you, that he has enough courage gathered to bring up something that’s been on his mind.

“You, uh…” he begins, finger rubbing aimless circles into your thigh while he’s slumped against you, “you remember when we talked about that thing?”

Puffs of air pepper gently from your nose as you process the words. You turn your head to Carmen.

“What thing, baby?”

Carmen swallows, clearing his throat. He raises off you but doesn’t meet your gaze. His eyes stay trained on his hand where he squeezes your leg to steady himself.

“Uh. That thing we talked about last week? With the, uh, the stuff.”

Carmen bites his lip at your growing smile and pinched eyebrows. He even has to hold back a laugh himself because the way he’s trying to say this sounds so stupid.

“Sorry, the stuff. The… sex… stuff.”

His voice trails off into nothing as he finishes the sentence, neck reddening when he pushes out the words. He holds on bated breath when you shuffle and think.

“Oh,” you let out, voice light. Carmen finally regains the ability to breathe. “You mean the whole edging thing I asked you about?”

Carmy is nodding before you can even finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah, that… is-is tha–is that something you’d still be, uh, up for, I guess?”

You draw in a long exhale, eyes cemented on a fidgeting Carmen. After what feels longer than the seven seconds that pass, you give him a gentle nod.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reassure him. “Can I ask you, though, why bring this up now, Bear? Not that I’m mad or grossed out or anything because I was the one that brought it up the first time. But what made you start thinking about it again?”

Carmen sighs and runs his fingers through his curls. He scratches the top of his head, pursing his lips before he speaks.

“When we, uh, we danced earlier? Before dinner? That was new, I’ve never really done something like that before, but it was nice. I really liked it, doing something new with you like that.”

As he continues, Carm’s voice becomes a little less wobbly. He sits up a little straighter and actually looks you in the eye.

“And it’s just, I-I feel good. I feel really good right now with you. I always feel good with you, and I think that, uh, I think that it–the sex thing–would be something I enjoy. With you. Because of how… how good you make me feel.”

A beat passes. Carmen scrunches his face. “Did that make sense?”

“Yeah, Carm. That makes perfect sense,” you smile, your hand reaching over to take his. His thumb strokes across the skin of your palm as he stares at you with an amount of love that has you shuddering. You pull your voice down to a whisper. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Carmen moves and pulls you closer. With an arm around your shoulder and lips pushing against your cheek, he whispers back, “Thank you for dancing with me. And for making me feel safe.”

“Love you, Bear.”

Carmen gifts you another kiss.

“Love you more, sweet girl.”

The sheets are soaked–with sweat or lube or something. Carmen is too far gone to know what, but he can feel them sticking to his back as he arches for a third time in the past minute. His hands–the ones he promises to keep lowered against the bed–are fisted tightly at his sides.

“Fuck,” Carmen drawls out, quivering and shaking because he’s so, so close. Teetering on a glorious, head-spinning edge, and has been for the past thirty minutes. “Fuck, sweet girl.”

You smile at the whimper that leaves Carmen’s throat. One of your hands is snug around the base of his cock, the other up near his sensitive head. His hips jerk violently when you run the pad of your thumb over and across his frenulum.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m close,” Carmen rushes out, head back and eyes shut completely. “Shit, I’m close.”

You slow your movement, soon coming to a complete stop. Giving his shaft one last squeeze, you pull your hands away and move them to rub his clenching things. You lower yourself even further and rest your chin against his hot skin, pressing light kisses onto his sack.

“Color?”

Carmen can’t answer. Your mouth is so close to him that he can feel the air fan against his cock and it jumps at the sensation. Even with his eyes closed, he blinks and fucking barely remembers to swallow the spit collecting in his mouth. When he tries to respond, his own gasp cuts him off.

“Can’t keep going until I have a color, my love–”

“Green. Fucking green,” Carmen tells you. “And sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off, just-just please. Please keep going. Please.”

On his last please, he lifts his head to peek down at you. You’ve got such a pretty smile and your hands are still on his thighs and jeez, he feels so good. You make him feel so good, it burns.

All of the fluids mixing on Carmen’s skin has made him slick. You run your hands up and up and up until they reach his shining sack. Your thumb and pointer finger reach to form a make-shift cock-ring, and Carmen’s stomach rises with a large inhale.

Carmen’s eyes roll back lazily in his head, mouth falling open when your palm presses back against his cock. A choked groan pours from him as you start to stroke.

You make sure to move your hand as slowly as possible, and his body ends up rising and following you when you tug upwards. You repeat the motion again. And again. And again, each time a tiny groan leaves Carmen.

Your grip is gentle as you stroke Carmen and you find yourself unable to look away from the sight in front of you. He’s writhing, muscles tense and clenching, and wants so badly to fuck up into your hands. But he doesn’t and won’t. Not until you say he can.

“Oh, my God,” Carmen whispers, “feels so good. Can’t even talk.”

“Don’t have to talk, baby,” you promise him, hand speeding ever so slightly, and Carmen nearly lets out a sob. “Just breathe for me, okay?”

Carmen forgets to nod and then forgets his name when your grip moves upwards, secured tightly around his pulsing head. You stroke, harder and faster, Carmen’s breaths turning into pants. You move deliberately, making sure the skin of your fingers doesn’t leave the top of his cock.

By this point, he’s leaking out large beads of pre-come and something in you can no longer resist.

The ah Carmen releases is loud and it startles him. He loses the fight against his hips and they surge forward when you swipe your tongue directly over the opening in his tip. He lets out another noise, something long and whining, when you envelop his entire head.

“Close,” is all he can spit out. You leave him with one last circle of your tongue before pulling off, and he whines again. Your hands still, allowing him the time he needs. After a few moments, he gives you a short nod to continue.

“Good boy.”

The words set Carmen aflame. They’re small and quiet but echo in his head like thunder. It thrusts him to the brink of his long-awaited orgasm, your resumption of kneading of his cock only pulling him closer.

“I need to cum, sweet girl. Fuck me, I need’ta come. Can I come, please?”

Your pussy, soaking and also leaking onto the sheet beneath you, clenches around nothing at the request. As you answer, you bend and glide your tongue across him once more.

“Not yet, my love.”

Carmen moans but obeys and it’s so hard. He’s so hard and your stroking and licking and moaning against him. Looking at him with those eyes that he loves to get lost in. He’s tingling all over and doesn’t even bother to hold back whatever sounds exit him anymore.

You’ve sped up even more now and he can barely take it. Carmen’s eyes fill with tears and the control he holds over himself. Dwindling second by second. He’s losing himself but it’s okay because he’s with you.

Somehow, Carmen manages to spew out broken moans between his erratic breathing.

“Please, can I come,” Carmy sobs out and he can feel the actual tears leaking from his eyes. “Please, baby? So, so close. I wanna come, please.”

You take a long second to answer, wanting to hold him out until the very last second. Squeezing your hands a little tighter, breaths heavy and deep as you stare over Carmen.

“Go ahead,” you order over the squelching sounds of your drenched grip around his throbbing cock. Carmen groans loudly, mouth pulled tight.

“Yes?” He rushes out, making sure he’s heard you right. Part of him hopes it was just all a part of his imagination because he wants this feeling to last forever. Here, with you. Barely hanging on. Body tense and vibrating with this bliss.

“Yes,” you repeat louder, and there are not three seconds before Carmen’s entire body constricts and he lets out a wail. It seems to last forever and grows even louder when the first rope of cum spurts out of him.

Your mouth parts in semi-shock at the sight. He pumps out string after string, body glowing as he jerks and jolts against you and the bed. Whatever leaves Carmen’s mouth is so far from any intelligible words. Just a string of curses that melt together as he keeps cumming.

“Fuuuck, yeah. Ah, sh… shit, holy fuckin’ shit, feels so good.”

You only slow when his hand finally reaches up to gently grab your wrist. Even through the aftershocks and his last few beads of cum leaving him, he squeezes you tenderly. A long hiss leaves him when your hands slowly release his wet cock, and he lets out one last groan when the air of the room hits him.

Both of your pants are the only sound in the room. Carmen’s eyes have been shut for the better part of the last two minutes and he doesn’t have any strength to lift his head to look at you.

Somewhere in his blurred haze, Carmen feels your weight shift from on top of him to beside him. You feel both near and distant as you press kisses on his sweaty forehead. He isn’t sure but it sounds like you mumble something about you running to the bathroom and grabbing something for him.

Carmen doesn’t know if it’s seconds or years before you return, but the warm, wet feeling on his stomach and chest pries his open. He watches you in silence as you rub a damp cloth across him to clean off the fluid drying on his middle. Each wipe is followed by a small peck of our lips and it has Carmen’s eyes closing again.

He’s nearly sleeping by the end of it and you grin at the sight.

“Keep those eyes open a little longer for me, Bear, okay?”

You get nothing from him a smile again as you grab the water bottle set on the bedside table. You pop it open and use a delicate finger on his chin to pull him from his light sleep. When his eyes meet yours, he gives you a small hi.

“Hi, Bear,” you greet him quietly. “Need you to sit up a little and drink half of this for me. Pretty please.”

Carmen moves in a dreamy trance, raising slowly from the bed and onto an elbow. You help him hold the bottle, and he ends up chugging most of the liquid once he realizes how thirsty he truly is.

“You need some, too,” Carmen mutters after pushing away the water, but you shake your head and urge him to keep drinking.

“I’m okay, baby,” you nod, and he eyes you before drinking the rest. He swallows and huffs out a breath. “You okay?”

Carmen lies back down because his limbs feel like jelly.

“I think so,” he begins, and you run a hand over his head to smooth down his hair. “Don’t think I can walk, though.”

You snicker out a laugh and Carmen’s eyes light up at the sound. The hand on his hair sneaks down to his cheek and settles there. “You did so good, baby. Really good, you were great. So proud of you.”

“You were great. Made me feel incredible. Always make me feel so good,” he tells you lowly, his own hand raising to feel yours against his face. His eyes flutter shut and he kisses your palm twice. “And thank you for doing that with me. I-I really liked it. A little more than the dancing.”

This time you both laugh.

“Also, uh, as soon as I regain feeling in my legs, I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’re the one that won’t be able to walk.”

Carmen’s words are slurred and he’s exhausted. And his eyes are closing again before he finishes the sentence. But his sense of humor is still there. You withhold the loud laugh that wants to leave you, so as to not disturb him.

In his half-sleep fog, Carmen’s arms pull you down to lay next to him. He nuzzles his still sweaty head into the crook of your neck, settling strong arms around you as he falls even deeper into sleep. Managing to grab the nearby blanket and throw it over the two of you, you hold him tight and keep holding him. Even when his light snores start.

The sheets are still a mess under you, but they’ll get washed in the morning. The next few minutes are spent watching Carmen’s chest rise and fall. The pleasant ache of your dripping core fades into a warm fuzz.

And soon, you’re following behind Carmen and are off into sleep. Dancing throughout dream realms where Carmen is the tide, you are the sun, and your love for each other is the moon sitting prettily in between.

#carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fic

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pseudowho · 6 months

Text

Hide and Seek

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Playing hide and seek with Nanami Kento.

Before you start searching for him, he pins you down onto the bed, slipping his hand into your underwear to leave a little gift inside; "to help you find me", he insists, not touching you, leaving you desperate and aching for him. When Kento has hidden, and you begin searching, you realise what his agenda was when the vibrator he is controlling increases and decreases in intensity the closer to and further away you get from him. Kento is an expert at hiding anyway, an impressive feat given his huge frame, but having to stop to lean against the wall, your pussy wet and throbbing, the vibrator pulsing frantically against your clit...makes searching nearly impossible.

At one point you've nearly given up, bent double, chest heaving as you feel your orgasm approach, mouth gaped and dripping pussy clenching around nothing...and the vibrator stops. You nearly scream with frustration, and you hear a deep chuckle from somewhere in the shadows; "I'm not letting you give up that easily. I'll let you cum every way you like when you find me- on my cock, around my mouth, my hands..."

When you do find Kento, arms round his waist as he attempts to dart between hiding places, you push him onto his back on the bed, hands nimbly freeing his cock, full and heavy against his abs as he watches you, bewitched and groaning as you slip your underwear to the side to sink down onto his cock, taking your reward. He gives, gladly, controlling the vibrator as he holds your hips, thrusting up into you as your tits bounce and you beg him to let you cum. He gives you what you need, drinking you in as your pussy flutters around him, euphoric in your release, and Kento follows shortly after, eyes fluttering closed as he shoots load after load of his seed into your eager belly.

When Kento searches for you, your heart beats at full capacity, chest heavy with dread and arousal as he hunts you like an animal. He doesn't tease you, and so you don't make it easy for him, relishing his growls of frustration as he comes up short-handed time and time again.

He whispers in the dark, trying to tempt you to him like a stray cat, and you clap your hand over your mouth as he passes you, just centimetres away. You see him grasp his length through his trousers, a small wet patch of precum leaking through, knuckles rapping against his own thigh as he tries to maintain control.

When he finds you, you're bodily gripped by the throat and pussy with little warning, your hair grasped at the roots in his huge hand as he blindfolds you with his tie, forcing you to his knees in front of him. Your mouth, already agape, accepts his cock with a gasp, and he lets you lick the salty precum off with a groan before fucking your face with total abandon, offering you only seconds here and there to catch your breath. He watches you, your tears staining his tie and your mouth and cheeks dripping with saliva and his own arousal; "got a bit too cocky there, hmm? You knew exactly what I'd do to you once I found you. Swallow it. All of it." You gag as you feel his cum spurt against your throat, his toes curling and head thrown back as he feels your throat convulse around him, whispering sweet praise to you, releasing your hair, removing his tie and helping you clean your face.

You can't help but laugh when Kento suggests something different for the next game night-- Twister.

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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months

Note

How do you think the companions would be with a tiefling gn Reader who's insecure about their horns and tail / just in general being a tiefling? Idm which companions!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a tiefling Tav who's insecure about being a tiefling?

(Little note, I personally love tieflings, I think they're so pretty)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh, poor thing, you’re gorgeous! Whoever told you weren’t? My, you’re simply the prettiest little tiefling I’ve ever had the pleasure to see, and trust me, darling, I have seen many.”

Baffled that this would be something you’d be ashamed about. I mean, he’d tell you to your face if you were hideous but he hasn't now has he?

He doesn't quite understand what's there to be insecure about, you look just fine in his eyes but if you need his honest opinion then he’ll give it to you.

He thinks tieflings are fascinating in their own right.

With long curled horns, rigid skin, and a gaze as intense as the fiery pits of hell, you’re not exactly the worst thing he's seen.

He’s not a poet but he’d show you how much he adores every inch of your body to prove just how stunning you are in his eyes.

Damn anyone who says otherwise, he’d reject the heavens in favor of a more hellish embrace that comes in your shape.

He really likes touching your horns/grabbing onto them, he’d never explain why but the texture of them under his cold fingertips is something he pleasantly enjoys.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Love, you are above the heavens itself. No angel could compare to the warmth I have found in your every touch. You’re someone I am proud to call my lover, horns and all.”

He gets it, I mean he was turned into some sort of devilish fiend by his wretched patron.

He understands how it could make anyone feel insecure. The horns feel heavy, your skin isn't as smooth as most, and there are cases in which people easily judge you for what you are.

Though, are those reasons to make him love you any less? Absolutely not.

You looked at his transformed self and still chose to love him, so of course he’d do the same for you. In fact, he loves you even more now.

He’d call you beautiful in every way he knows how, concealing each thought of you in words that all come to praise everything that you are and more.

Besides, there's something rather poetic about two devils dancing in the moonlight.

Would compliment every part of your body you feel the most insecure about on a daily basis so that perhaps someday you’d love yourself the same way he loves you.

He’d fall in love with you and those fiery eyes again and again if he could. You hold his heart.

: ̗̀➛GALE

“No magic can compare to the spell you’ve cast upon me. Akin to a moth drawn to a flame, I will gladly fall into your fiery embrace.”

Upset that you view yourself in such a way.

He understands that a bad light is often shed amongst tieflings but he didn't think it would affect you to this degree.

He’s completely in love with every bit of you, he can't bear seeing you hate yourself like this.

If anything, this gives him more of a reason to praise you more, going above and beyond to make you feel like the god/goddess he sees in his eyes.

He’d speak in loving whispers about each and every part of your body so that not an inch of you goes unloved.

He loves staring into your eyes, they dilate and pulse in a way that bewitches him to a point where he’d rather meet your gaze than look up at the stars.

You could describe yourself in the most downright horrendous way possible and he’d still look at you with the most smitten expression you've seen a man hold.

He’ll help you get over your insecurities little by little, doing everything he can to make you see yourself as the specialty you are.

: ̗̀➛KARLACH

“What?! Why would you be? You’re only the greatest thing that's ever happened to me! The hottest thing to come into my life! You’re amazing.”

I mean she gets it, there's a dark stigma around tieflings that she faced herself. For a long while, she was seen as this brutish devil who’d kill children!

But tieflings can be cool, she thinks tieflings can and are badass! There's nothing else like them.

Would constantly reassure you that there's nothing you should be ashamed about, you’re amazing as hell and she loves you for it.

Fuck anyone who tries to slander you for who you are, she’d gladly set them ablaze.

The constant heat she feels on a daily basis is nothing compared to the burning feeling you give her. It makes her go weak at the knees.

Very direct about how much she loves the way you look, it's impossible for anything she says to be a lie.

She’d scream it out loud for the hell of it, making sure all of Faerûn knew how gorgeous you were with all your devilish little features.

She thinks the tail and horns are hot, nothing you say can make her ever think otherwise.

She’ll love you until every part of her body burns into ash in the hopes that by then, you will have learned to love yourself.

: ̗̀➛SHADOWHEART

“Hm. Well, I suppose we all have our own insecurities… if it makes you feel any better, I think… no. I know you’re beautiful. You’re beyond every loving word I could ever use to describe you.”

Surprised by this but she doesn't take it against you. Instead, she’ll find her own little ways of helping you out of your insecurities.

The stigma around tieflings is bad but it is something she herself can relate to with once being a follower of the goddess Shar and the misconceptions that come with it.

Gentle reassurances of your appearance and her love for you would constantly come unprompted.

She’d notice you sadly staring at your horns in a reflection and she wouldn't hesitate to walk up to you and remind you about how pretty they are.

If she sees you scratching and your rigid skin, she’d come up to you and gently take your hand into hers, proudly confessing how much she adores your skin.

She wouldn't bombard you with compliment after compliment but she'd certainly be there if the self-hate gets too much.

She would carefully drag you out of that darkness just as you did for her.

She’d gently drag her fingertips across your horns and every rigid part of your skin, entangling her hand into your tail if not for a simple display of affection.

There's not a single part of you she hasn't come to adore and she’ll make sure that in time, you’ll come to adore those parts of you too.

: ̗̀➛LAE’ZEL

“Insecure? How could someone like you be ‘insecure’? Your mind has no place for such degrading thoughts. You’re better than that.”

She doesn't quite grasp the concept of being ‘insecure’ about something other than it being a sign of weakness hence her confusion at first.

She sees you as a brilliant warrior, someone she deeply admires, how do you find yourself hating anything about yourself?

She sees no reason for your self-loathing and may across as rudely direct such as telling you to simply move past it.

But soon enough she’ll realize how much these ‘insecurities’ of yours may be affecting you and go out of her way to try a different approach.

She’ll start off by saying how being a tiefling doesn't make you any weaker or lower than anybody else, in fact, you are more than worthy of praise and respect.

She believes every part of you is attractive, you’d never have to worry about her ever falling out of love for you.

Besides, aren't tiefling’s fire resistant? That's another thing you should be proud of, some do not have the privilege of being able to withstand strong flames.

It's mostly listing every advantage your body holds against others before ever so subtly squiggling in an actual sweet compliment that she sort of hopes you don't pick up on.

She couldn't have asked for a better partner, you are far better than anything she could have wished for and she wouldn't have you in any other way.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Nature has built you in the shape of beauty, my heart, every part of you was intended to be loved. Even the prettiest of roses are put to shame in you’re presence.”

He looks more hurt than you by the newly found information.

He believed nature had made all its creatures perfect to every single degree, that includes you.

He could hardly bear hearing you degrade yourself in such a way, not when you’re the most precious thing he's ever laid his eyes upon.

He’d have to sit you down, and allow both of you to discuss your insecurities and where they could have possibly stemmed from.

After which he goes on an entire monologue about how deeply infatuated he is with you and everything that you are, horns and tail included.

If anything, he thinks your horns and tail are adorable. You’re the very peak of beauty in a world filled of glorious things.

He’ll compliment and praise every part of yourself you've come to hate until you’re a speechless, blushing mess.

Try convincing him otherwise and you might as well faint from the amount of sweet little whispers he’d be sending your way.

There is no way he's letting you get away from this without feeling like the most loved thing on this planet.

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#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 halsin #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 x reader #astarion #karlach #halsin #lae’zel #wyll #gale #shadowheart

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 3 months

Text

Run away with me.

Jack Dawkins x fem reader light smut.

Jack looked at you standing in his doorway, your elaborate dress looking so out of place in his tiny room. You were breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat causing your skin to glow in the low lamp light. You put down a large carpet bag by the door.

"y/n, what is it? Has something happened?" Jack asks leaping from his bed. You shake your head.

"Where is Fagin?" You ask in a quiet voice.

"Out, drinking I think." He says. You nod, take a step forward and close the door behind you.

"Are you okay?" Jack asks again.

"I was at dinner, with my parents. There were several men there. Lady Fanny said it was because my mother wants to marry me off." You say.

Jack nods, confused.

"I looked at them all and I felt....I couldn't speak to any of them without comparing them to you." You admit.

"to me?" Jack smiles, he takes a step forward, "Your mother hates that you spend time with me." He reminds you. You can't stop the laugh that comes out of you.

"I know, but I don't care. I don't care about any of them, if you-" you cut yourself off, suddenly feeling doubt in your choices. Sensing it Jack closes the space between you, lifting your hands into his.

"I have been waiting to say this to you and I suppose now is the right time. Y/n from the moment you came barreling into this hospital I have been consumed by you. I think about you all day, wondering what you are doing, who you are speaking to. You are the thoughts before I sleep and the content of my dreams. You have bewitched me." He admits.

"I feel the same." You say smiling. Jack brings his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle, like he is frightened you might dissolve into the air. Your hands curl around his waistcoat lapels and you bring him closer to you. With precise movements Jack turns you and guides you back toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours.

"Jack, I-" you whisper, pulling back from his just a little.

"We can stop, at any moment if you're uncomfortable I'll stop." He says, one hand cupping your jawline. You nod and he continues the kiss. Using your nervous fingers you unbutton the blue waistcoat, pushing it off his shoulders. Jack shrugs his suspenders off so they drop down around his hips, his trousers dropping slightly. His tongue comes out a little to lick his lips before he too unbuttons your bodice. The tiny buttons seem to go on forever until he is able to toss your bodice to the ground. You drop your skirt and petticoats stepping out of them. Jack's hand takes your waist and pulls you back to a kiss. Blindly he unclips your corset, letting it join the pile of discarded clothing. His hand comes up to cup your breast, squeezing lightly. You sigh.

Jack lays you back on the bed, removing his breeches and lying beside you, half hovering over your body. He looks into your y/e/c eyes and has to remind himself to breathe.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, nose nudging your own. You nod.

"Yes." You whisper and bring him back down to you. Jack had not been this nervous since his first time with a woman. He tentatively ran his hand down your body, sliding his hand below your Bloomers to your core. The Doctor looks to you, silently asking for permission once more, you nod and he slips a finger between your folds. It was a sensation you had never felt before. His fingers worked in and around you. Your body arched and jolted involuntarily. Jack captured your moans in his kisses, easing you through your orgasim.

"Jack, I want you." You say holding him to you. Jack fully undressed you both before moving back over you and settling between your legs. He stroked his penis in his hand a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

"If it hurts or you feel uncomfortable, I'll stop." He breathes out. He pushes his tip into you and you feel the stretch. Jack's hand moves to hold yours as he slowly sinks into you. The stretch is delicious, making you feel full. Jack's breath is shallow.in your ear as he begins to move inside you.

Sure you had adjusted to his size and movements Jack kissed you once more.

"I'm going to move faster now, okay?" He says to you and you nod your head. The feeling of his body moving against yours and the rhythmic motions of his pelvis had your muscles clenching around him.

"Oh god." His grunted, biting his head into your shoulder as his movements became sloppy, chasing his own end. His kisses you hard as he spilled himself inside you before collapsing above you. His body weight pressing onto.

"wow." You say between panted breathes. Jack agreed and slid out of you to lay beside you and pull the blanket over you both.

"Jack, I have a lot of money., I have a thousand pounds in my bag." You say, your head resting on his shoulder and his fingers tracing circles on your arm.

"I'm aware." He laughs.

"I know you have made a life here, in Port Victory but would you run away with me?" You ask. Jack freezes.

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"America? There are new towns popping up all over the place. We could set up an office, your own office."

Jack moves himself so he can look into your eyes.

"Are you serious about this?" He searches your eyes and you nod. "We will have to take Fagin." He smiles at you.

"Of course." You giggle as he settles himself back beside you. How is it his life continues to get better? Now he had you, fully and he didn't plan on ever letting you go

"All you have to do is pack and we can be gone, before my parents get to the desert."

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader #the artful dodger #thomas brodie sangster

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nervousd · 1 year

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Infatuation — prologue

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#SYNOPSIS— Recom Miles gets a briefing from his predecessor

#WARNING(S)— possessive behavior, unhealthy obsession, abuse of power, dark quaritch, yandere, stalking

#CHARACTER(S)— colonel miles quaritch, Recom! Miles Quaritch

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ In case you haven’t figured it out yet you’re Colonel Miles Quaritch. Only younger, taller and not nearly as good looking— what you won’t remember is my death because it hasn’t happened and it ain’t gonna— And if you are watching this it means I did get my ticket punched. Well whatever happens if your any clone of mine you’ll be looking for some payback that would be Jake Sully he’ll be the top of the list. But he ain’t the reason why I’m making this video log— no. We have more important matters to discuss ❞

Miles tail flicked agitated, he knew exactly who he was talking about. You were constant in this memories, haunting him ins his dreams with feathery touches and whispers.

❝ You see Jake sully took something from me. It belonged to me— and I’m not keen on sharing. No— the thought of even sharing her with you doesn’t sit right with me. You listen to me Colonel, if anything does happen to me than it’ll be your job to bring her back to me. I want her buried beside me in my grave— I rather have her dead than alive ❞ a slow grin curled up the corner of his lips ❝ What’s that sayin again? Not even death can do us part— yeah I like that ❞

He had a vague understanding of the Colonel’s infatuation with you. His memories were still fuzzy— incomplete. The scientist assured him that his memories will come back, bits and pieces. He remembers the basics of who he is but the most prominent memories were of you. His first contact with you. A small chance encounter and he was smitten, you however seemed to be uncomfortable near him. Walking on egg shells whenever he was around— not that his predecessor noticed. No— he was far too preoccupied daydreaming about you and the countless possibilities that could happen.

An immense portion of miles heart ached for you. You— a woman he’s never laid his eyes on had bewitched him. It was an odd feeling— to feel incomplete; to feel like a part of him was missing. This feeling would only escalate during sleepless nights when the cold crept up on his skin— he yearned for the warmth of your skin. But he wasn’t here to rekindle a past romance — no he was here to kill Jake Sully and bury you beside the Colonel. However, at one point his curiosity got the best of him and decided to do a throughout search of information in the RDA database. You were considered traitorous, to be taken alive if found. He scrolled through your profile finding old video logs.

When browsing through the logs, he heard your voice and his ears perked up. He stared at you with wide eyes, ears pointed toward your voice. Your eyes shone brightly as you rambled on about the various species of na'vi that lived on Pandora while making wide gestures. Your rant came to an end— instead you grimaced at a booming voice interrupting you ❝ Buttercup— the Colonel wants to see you ❞ It was his Corporal— Lyle Wainfleet. Miles tail flicked in annoyance, his gut twisted uncomfortably. A rumble vibrated through his chest as he expressed his annoyance.

From his scarce memories, he recalls that he typically sent Lyle to pick you up from the scientist, ready to hear about your report on the relationship with the na'vi. To see if there were any improvements or downfalls etc. However, this was just an excuse; he never actually paid attention to the report. No, he was far too busy ogling at you. Miles scowled, he wondered just how many times Lyle had referred to you with pet names. An unfamiliar feeling scratched at his chest. The video log abruptly ended, probably on your way to go meet his predecessor.

Miles huffed, tail slapping against the ground. It wasn’t enough— as much as he ached to hear your voice he felt the need to have your presence beside him. The only possibly way he could find you is by catching Jake Sully and taking the information from him. But you weren’t his— you were to be buried beside his predecessor; orders from him. Just a small moment— a minute of having you to himself and that would be enough to state him.

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

#avatar #yandere avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water x reader #colonel quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch #navi quaritch #Recom quaritch #miles Quaritch #dark quaritch #dark colonel miles quaritch #dark Recom miles #yandere quaritch #yandere miles quaritch

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cloudseeker14 · 2 months

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Wistful Dreams (Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Summary : A good friendship is something that is rare for even the strongest sorcerer in the world to come across. Surely, he'd do anything to keep it, right? Even if his heart was screaming otherwise.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

TW: Angst with sad ending

Gojo Satoru had never doubted himself of being strong. He could bring down entire hordes of curses with just a snap of his fingers, a mere mention of his name would have the enemies of the Jujitsu world trembling with terror.

Yet, when he saw you, with your wild laughter and the way it rang in his ears like the most melodious tune, he felt weakened.

"Toru, you have no idea how bad that date was!" You chuckle, plopping onto the couch "I don't know what Shoko was thinking setting me up with him, the poor dude was straight up trying to worship the very ground I walk on to get in my pants."

Toru, a nickname that only you had shared for him. The sound of it from your lips, how it seemed to bewitch every single sense of his, Satoru wanted to bottle it up just to keep hearing it again and again.

"Oh yeah?" Satoru grabbed a bowl of popcorn and say next to you, grinning "Well, do you know what can be better than some date you can have with any of those dudes?"

"Let me guess, that popcorn you generously have in your hands right now?" You asked, lips curling into smile.

A part of Satoru wanted to scream that it was him. He could be better than any of those idiots you went out to see. Afterall, how could he not be when he knew every single aspect of you as well as the back of his hand?

Would anyone else know all your favourite shows and books? Would they know exactly how you like your tea, the type of bands you enjoy or how to hug you tight while you weep into their shoulder?

"Yeah and this new thriller movie that's been released." Satoru' eyes gleamed with mischeif but the pang in his chest still remained.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead dramatically. "Toru, you know I hate horror!"

The blue eyed man chuckled at your plight. "You can keep whining all you want, but if I say we are watching The Shining, then that's the only damn thing that's going to be playing on the TV tonight."

You rolled your eyes with mock offense and playfully jabbed him in the shoulder, an ordinary routine for you which still succeeded in elciting a deep stirring of longing in Satoru heart.

How would it feel to hold you close, whisper all the frantic thoughts that have been running through his head for years in your ear?

Would your lips taste as sweet as how he imagined them in his dreams?

"You do know that you might be the Jujitsu world's biggest asshole, right?" You leaned over and grabbed some popcorn from Satoru as he grabbed the TV remote, shaking it annoyingly in front of your face.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Satoru smiled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that went unnoticed to your gaze.

It was for the best that you didn't notice because Satoru knew, deep down in the icy depths of his pride and arrogance that was bellowing at him to just tell you, that you deserved a man better than him.

You deserved someone who could give all their time to you. Someone who would usher you away from all the dangers of the world of curses, not someone like him whose very companionship would mean facing countless trials with curses determined to find the weakness of the greatest Jujitsu sorcerer.

By just being a sorcerer yourself, you came home beaten up every weekend from all the curses out for your blood. Being his would be equivalent to signing a death warrant, you'd never get a moment of peace for your whole life.

Satoru couldn't do that to you.

The movie went on for a few hours and with every scream that escaped your lips from all the blood and gore, each time your arm unknowingly brushed against his own, Satoru had to mentally restrain himself from just kissing you right then and there.

Once the movie was over, Satoru sat with you and listened to your remarks, resting his head on his hand.

"And that scene where blood just spurted from the sink was crazy!" You exclaimed animatedly "I'll admit it, this movie was better than what I expected!"

"Now this is why you should have some trust in me when it comes to movies." Satoru said smugly, adoration filling his soul itself as he drunk in your glee.

He couldn't allow himself to be too close to you, not if it meant endangering your life and health. Just being your friend and a part of your life would be enough if it meant just getting to be around you. Even if every thought in his body protested at the sight of you being set up on dates, though his own mind betrayed himself every night with indulgent fantasies of you, he'd make himself be satisfied with just being your friend.

Gojo Satoru could never have a weakness, especially not one as disadvantageous as a lover.

Satoru walked through the campus of Jujtisu High, aimlessly going through his phone after returning from one of his missions. It'd been quite simple and hadn't even succeeding in piquing the tiniest bit of his interest.

"God know why they needed me for something so simple." Gojo muttered to himself and put his phone in the pocket of his pants "I swaer to god, it's almost as if they're trying to keep me-"

All his words fell short, lodging in his throat as he saw a sight that he'd been dreading forever. There you were, stunning as always with your face perfectly framed by the setting sun as you kissed some man deeply, your fingers tangled in the locks of his black hair as you pressed your body against his chest.

Gojo Satoru could only continue watching in horror as the man placed his hands firmly on your hips with such familiarity and pulled you closer. At that moment, Satoru didn't even knew who the hell that man was but he could clearly witness that you both fit against each other like missing pieces of a puzzle.

He saw you pull away, your face flushed and lips pink from the ministrations of your lover as you giggled, not even noticing Satoru's presence in your gaze.

Gojo Satoru, for the first time in his life, walked away. He turned on his heel and continued walking in the opposite direction as the bottom of his lips trembled.

What else should he have expected? Of course you'd have someone in your life, someone who'd make you happy in all the ways he couldn't.

He knew that this had been inevitable, but goddamnit the tears that were unashamedly welling up in his eyes paid no heed to that fact.

There are certain moments in life where one must control the whirlwind of regrets in their heart.

Gojo Satoru could recall experiencing this when you introduced your boyfriend to him, all smiles and laughter. Your lover had firmly shook Satoru's hand, speaking bashfully of how amazing you are.

When you and your boyfriend looked at each other, as much as Satoru cursed the sight before him in his head, he couldn't deny the attraction between the two of you.

One you obviously didn't share for him.

But the day his very strength, his arrogance and pride as a sorcerer died within him and burnt to ashes on a pyre was when he saw you walk down the aisle.

You'd given him the invitation, practically brimming with joy and blissfully unaware of the tumultuous mirage of emotions as his heart and mind engaged in a tense conflict with each other.

Gojo Satoru felt breathless as you walked down the aisle, absolutely radiant in your wedding dress.

Satoru knew you were beautiful, but at that moment with the way your hair was let down, how the dress clutched your curves and the wind which gently made your veil flutter in the wind, he couldn't deny that you were the most stunning woman that could ever grace his eyes.

As you continued walking ahead, a small part of Satoru wanted you to look at him for just an instant. To give him a sign, anything that you suddenly didn't want this. That he could whisk you away even if he could never fully give himself to you.

But your gaze was far ahead, eyes only for the man soon to be your husband and in all your awe, you didn't even spare a single second for Gojo Satoru.

Satoru's hands trembled as he forced himself to stare at the ground, unable to look any longer. If gods did exist in this world of vicious curses, Satoru was helplessly praying to ones he'd never believed in just for all this to turn out to be a figment of his imagination.

"Y/N, do you take this man as your husband and swear to stay by his side during sickness and health, during all the moments of happiness and sadness that life will have to offer the both of you?"

Satoru forced himself to look up and he could swear that he could feel his heart shatter like glass thrown forcefully against a pavement once he saw you nod your head, tears of joy running down your face. "Yes, of course I do." You clasped your hands, eyes brimming with excitement of the prospects that awaited you in the future.

Unbeknownst to you, there was someone else who was crying in the altar with you. It wasn't your husband, who instead chose to gently caress your face and wipe away your tears with his rough, calloused hand. It wasnt your mother or any of your family members, who were all rather elated at witnessing you during this moment.

It was Gojo Satoru, tears streaming down his face as he bit down the inside of his cheek to choke down the sobs that threatened to spill from his lips. Thankfully, no one noticed him. How could they, when you could simply steal everyone's breath away with a simple flick of your hand?

"Does anyone have any objections?" The priest asked and all the guests smiled cheekily, this was just a mere formality that no one ever adhered to.

But for Satoru, those words seemed to awaken a sense of courage he didn't even know existed to him. Proclamations of love and longing, of how he knew that he could make you happy made its way to the tip of his tongue, only to crumble away as he saw your expression of delight as you gazed into the eyes of the man you loved.

Gojo Satoru was a man of many spades, he was nonchalant, full of himself and always determined to get what he wants.

But he couldn't bring himself to be the villain of your love story, not if it meant seeing that smile disappear from your face on your special day.

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife!" The priest proclaimed, the chance for Satoru to open the dam of emotions that had been welling up within him for years vanishing with just those simple words.

Satoru's eyes never left your face as your husband wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. Even then, Satoru couldnt let go of the countless 'what ifs' in his head.

What if he'd been selfish and allowed himself to love you? Would he have been the one to be by your side as your husband instead? Would he have been given the honor of waking up to you each morning and falling asleep with you in his arms? Would the two of you have grown old together after having stepped away from the chaos of the Jujitsu world?

A part of him died inside as your gently cupped your husband's face and pressed your lips against his, hues of pink subtly dusting over your cheeks.

You and your husband pulled apart and you squealed as you were lifted into the sky by his strong arms.

At that instant, a cruel realisation dawned upon Satoru.

This was his price for being the strongest, as much as he devoted himself to the entire Jujtisu world, the few people who knew him beyond just the facade of the cocky sorcerer would keep being snatched away from him by fate.

A lonely life was all that awaited him and the words that he desperately wanted to scream would remain locked within the closure of his heart.

I love you.

Those words would never be heard, instead they would only be replaying in his head for nights to come as he'd toss and turn at the thought of you enjoying a sweet life with another man, even though all he wanted was to be the one for you.

There'd be nights where he'd curse the entirely of Jujitsu, detesting his destiny that had been set in stone from the instant he'd been born.

But all of that meant nothing when he saw how you smiled, exactly like the way which had enchanted him when the two of you had first met as you walked up to him, arm in arm with your husband.

And in that fleeting moment, Gojo Satoru smiled back wryly, the gesture a broken attempt at trying to brush aside the throbbing of his aching heart.

"Go on lovebirds, dont keep all the guests waiting!" Satoru chuckled weakly, motioning for you to go ahead, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as you grinned and rushed over to your mother.

As he continued to watch you for the rest of the night, the alcohol his sole companion for the event, Satoru supposed the old stories he had read as a kid were right.

The human heart was a fickle thing, always longing for the things it simply cannot have the most.

And you, you would be his one weakness.

The only thing he'd still keep running back to, a curse and blessing all in one.

#gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #angst with a sad ending #satorugojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #jjk #angst no comfort

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marthawrites · 7 months

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Sand and Sky

Daemon Targaryen x POC fem reader

Word Count: 1.8k+

About: Upon arriving to King's Landing with your cousin, Criston Cole, you meet Daemon Targaryen. Little time passes before desire of the flesh overtake both of you.

Includes: SMUT. This is just porn. Featuring overstimulation, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, mild humiliation, unprotected vaginal sex, (somewhat) public sex, clothed sex, mild choking, spanking

Note: Hello lovely reader! Story is based on THIS request and HERE is the prompt list used. If the anon who sent the request is here, I apologize for making you wait so long! I hope this story makes up for it. I'm putting the whole fic beneath a read more. Reader is dornish from an unspecified House. As always, please enjoy!

“I could eat you out for days,” Daemon groaned into your soaken, swollen folds; the Targaryen Prince completely nonchalant in regard to the lewd slurps he licked and sucked all along you.

A wet spot stained the chair's cushion you sat upon. Something between a hiss, moan, and whine jumped from your throat as Daemon gave your overstimulated cunt little break from back-to-back orgasms. Your spine arched, thighs flexed, and the toes of one foot pressed onto the ground while your other leg slung over one of his wide shoulders. Today, it was he who knelt before you. Your fingers slid through his long silver hair. You didn’t know if you wanted to pull him deeper into you or push him away. “Please, my prince…!” You panted. Sweat sheened atop your olive skin like tiny jewels. The fine hairs along your neck clung to it in small curls. How many times had he pushed you to peak? You’d lost count at three – once with fingers and twice with mouth – and that was some time ago, now.

“I’m on my knees eating your cunt and you dare push me away?” He asked, violet eyes ablaze with lust and mocking anger as he stared up past your heaving breasts to your face. “Mannerless girl,” he said as he smacked your sensitive folds. “Many a whore dream of this and you have the thought to push me away?” A laugh echoed his question before he dove back in, unrelenting. This time, his fingers joined, too. Handsome lips wrapped around your hard little pearl while two fingers pushed up into your empty cunny.

You squealed, and in the same moment your legs trembled to tautness. “Gods!” His name tumbled from your mouth in broken stutters. You squeezed into his hair, hard, thighs pressing firmly around his head as your hips, as if beyond your control, ground against his face and fingers through an intense, almost aggressive, orgasm. “Too much! Too much, Daemon. Please, my prince, let me rest,” you begged. The wet spot beneath your ass had doubled in size.

He looked up at you again with that same desire and violence alike. “So pretty begging,” he cooed, mouth and chin smeared with your slick. “Ask nicely and I might let you suck my cock.” All the while he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. He turned his wrist, flexing it, as he mercilessly bullied your hidden patch of nerves that had your eyes rolling closed.

By now your legs were open and fully relaxed. And, too, your cunt. The sloppy wet sounds of his finger fucking sent humiliation burning your cheeks. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t notice while the other part hoped he would.

Since your arrival to King’s Landing with your cousin, Criston Cole, hardly a day passed without Daemon taking use of you. The attraction between you and him was instant and fierce. You, a childless newly widowed dornish lady, and him, Daemon fucking Targaryen. Tales of the Rogue Prince traveled from The Wall to Sunspear and everywhere between. He didn’t need any introductions. When you sauntered and circled around him like a desert panther he followed you with calculated eyes. When you spoke to him in low, sultry tones, he leaned all the closer to hear each clip and dip of your accented words. Your dark eyes bewitched the dragon in him. Before night fell on the second day of your arrival, he was buried to his stones between your legs. Dorne was the only people to slay a dragon: your nails dug into his wide, muscled back, and you rent him in passion.

You’d been in King’s Landing for a fortnight, and now, with a face hot from humiliation, was another thing he could taunt you with during your next tryst. For there would be another. And another. And another.

You cried out in bliss. White, and hot, and beautiful, your whole body tightened before relaxing with a swarm of gooseflesh.

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I?” He asked, hissing voice dripping with amusement at your state of wanton debauchery. The room you were in was only a side room off one of the main corridors – oft used for overflow, recreation, or a quiet place to study. The idea of anyone coming in at any time brought forth another layer of excitement. But, in turn, you did have to stay at least a little quiet. A woman moaning and whimpering in passion would surely bring curious ears (and mayhaps eyes, too). The prince wasn’t in a mood to share. Before you could answer he chuckled coldly. His free arm lifted and he pushed two fingers past your painted lips. It muffled you to his satisfaction. He smirked. “You look so pretty with my fingers stuffed inside of you,” he said as he admired the sight of both sets of your lips wrapped around his digits.

Finally, just as tiny beads of sweat began dripping down your neck, Daemon gave you a break. He still had his fingers stuffed in you, but he didn’t move them. He simply kept them inside of you. Feeling you. Enjoying you. Letting you gather yourself while he watched with great amusement. Eventually you did and you returned his gaze with darkly glittering eyes.

Two could play his cruel game.

“Is this where your favorite whores would be tired out, my prince?” You asked sweetly. “Perhaps you need a reminder of how we are made differently in Dorne,” you proclaimed. Your features brightened with a second wind as you moved a foot to the center of the prince’s partially clothed chest and kicked him back. With a feline grace you maneuvered to straddle his waist. Smiling atop him, it was your turn to take the reins. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he’d let you be so forceful with him, and the fact he did sent the desire in your blood roaring. You were both still partially clothed, but it mattered little.

Daemon growled beneath you. Would he breathe fire next? You wondered.

“Don’t be gentle, riñītsos.” little girl In a hasty fumble of hands he opened the front of his breeches to free his cock. Its weight slapped against the inside of your thigh, hot and smooth and no doubt dripping with pre. You gasped. Satisfied. He was glorious.

“I wasn’t planning on it, sweet prince.” The saccharine melody of your voice was so unlike your normal cadence that it sent his cock twitching just as you began to sink down on it. He was big, and thick, and hot, and so, so, wonderful. You couldn’t help the moan which poured from your mouth. You savored the stretch of him. Your slick, fleshy walls yielded inch by inch until your cunt was full to its end. You both groaned at the sensation. Slowly, you started to grind back and forth on him, your body acclimating to his size. “You’ve the best cock in all the Kingdoms, my prince,” you said breathily. One of your hands pushed up the center of his abdomen, chest, collar, until you dared to wrap your hand around the strong pillar of his neck. You pressed your fingers just so.

Below you, Daemon’s eyes blackened like a sharks. Leaning up on an elbow, the hand of the other flew up to your neck where he held the slim thing inside his much bigger, much firmer, hand. “Have I been too soft on you that you think you can hold me by the throat?” He asked, driving his hips up into you – setting the pace for the fucking he intended to give you. “Answer me when I talk to you, riña.” girl

Not letting go of his neck, you bounced with his rhythm. Your breasts did, too, the dark nipples of each tightened to pebbles as you tried to keep pace with him. His stamina surpassed yours, and you were already running low from his ravished mouth and fingers. Still, you tried. “You look so good under me,” you praised.

Whether he accepted or denied your praise, you couldn’t tell. The next thing you knew he laughed, low and sinister, and curled his body up so you were breast to breast. He pushed you over with ease. With you on all fours, the side of your face squished against the rugged stone floor, he rucked your silken hems up around your waist and instantly shoved his cock back into you. “You can come when I tell you to come, understood?” He asked with a firm slap to your upturned asscheek, sparing it no mercy as he fucked into you for his own pleasure. If he thought you were being too loud before – and if his brain was in his head rather than his cock – he’d have shoved something in your mouth to quiet you. Between your sounds of pleasure, and the obscenity of skin slapping on wet skin, anyone with warm blood in their veins would know what’s transpiring in this room.

You were back to babbling his name, yes’s, and please’s, over and over again, your body absolutely wrecked at the intensity of his fucking. You loved every single second of it. Numbness and weightlessness traveled out from your spine to the rest of your body. Before you knew it you were soaking him down to his balls.

He slapped your asscheek again. Twice, this time. “I don’t remember saying you could come,” he growled by your ear, his breath hot against your neck. His pace never softened. “Let’s try that again. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it.”

You had no idea how you could give him another one. Your second wind gave out, and yet, still, he wanted more. Pushed you to more. “‘M sorry, Dae-mon,” you stuttered through the slapping of his pelvis against you. “Felt too-o good,” you whined.

“Gonna fill this pretty cunt up. Fuck you full with a royal bastard.” He gripped both sides of your hips and didn’t stop until his own breath came in labored pants.

By then you were so far gone; the pleasure immense and all consuming. You were somewhere deep in your head, somewhere light and floating, as the Rogue Prince fucked you dumb. Senseless. Happy.

“Come with me, riñītsos. Come with me, now, Come with me,” he grunted through strained breath. Climax found you both at the same moment. He spent his seed as deep into your body as he could go, letting the final twitches of his peak release every bit of him into you.

Exhaustion settled over your body like wet sand. You rolled onto your back, and Daemon did the same; sated minutes passed silently while you both regained yourselves.

“What of the plans I had for the rest of the day now? I can’t go out looking like this,” you said, laughing, as you gestured to your once neatly curled and braided hair – not to mention your smudged make up.

Daemon looked at you, smirking. “Do you have any commoner’s clothes?”

“Hm… I believe so. Why is that?”

“Put them on. I’ll lend you an old cloak. Let me show you my favorite gambling tavern in Flea Bottom.”

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

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess

Daemon taglist: @sahvlren @abbyandizzysmum @boofy1998

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon fic #request

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: thursday

summary: you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (four part series | follow-up to 'make my heart surrender)

warnings: lots of swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, use of she/her pronouns, the lightest of smut, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 5k

listen to: 91 - bleachers | now i'm in it - haim | bewitched, bothered, and bewildered - ella fitzgerald (playlist here)

a/n: re: the poll -- yall really said 'let this man be happy please!' and i love that for us. if you voted for the other fic, i want to reassure you that i will be writing that one right after this! please enjoy all of the fluff and joy of this four chapter fic. i also feel like i potentially robbed us of a smut scene so... anyone interested in a bonus smut scene as a companion to this chapter?

Thursday

“Alright, guys. We only have a few hours to get our day one prep done. I’ve outlined a schedule for today so that we’re as efficient as possible. Tomorrow’s gotta go smooth, alright?” Carmy instructs, laying out the day.

You listen intently, marveling at your boyfriend in-action. He’s so fearless when he’s in his element, and being back in New York just seems to bring back all the memories of how you met. It’s like you’re twenty seven again, huddling up for a pre-shift meeting, led by recently-promoted wunderkind CDC, Carmen Berzatto.

Only, you’re not twenty seven anymore and Carmy is the love of your life.

“I’m gonna start with the mise for our beef dish, so Syd, can you get working on our signature veal stock? I think we should work with one in the pressure cooker just in case we get short on time and have a back up,” Carmy directs, an intense determination filling his eyes.

He looks from Sydney to Marcus, before continuing his orders.

“Marcus, I need you to start on the ice cream today, chef. I ordered us some liquid nitrogen if we need to make more on the fly, but I’d really prefer not to.”

And then it’s your turn, and boy, do you love to watch him work. You have to fight the corners of your lips from curling into a broad grin because you know now is not the time.

“And lastly, I’m gonna have you work on the pasta. My goal is for us to get all of the agnolotti assembled today, so I’ll jump in when I wrap up with my mise to help you with that, yeah?”

“Heard,” the three of you answer in unison.

Everyone’s got their game faces on because this is a big deal.

The biggest, actually.

Representing The Bear at the James Beard House is more than a big deal – it’s an honor. Only a handful of chefs get invited to cook here per year, and after a little fancy footwork in terms of scheduling, the four of you were finally able to agree on a date with the famous organization. You’re more than elated to be a part of the team, even if you aren’t working at The Bear anymore.

The four of you quickly busy yourselves with setting up your stations. You only have a few hours to accomplish a whole lot of prep, and the pressure sits heavily on each of your shoulders. Tickets to the dinner had sold out within the first hour, which, after all the press, accolades, and media attention the restaurant had earned over the last few years, hadn’t been a huge surprise.

“Think you can keep up, chef? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ rusty on me,” Marcus quips, already starting the playful trash talking early.

You let out a laugh, before challenging him in jest.

“Damn, Marcus. Hasn’t been that long. Bet I can still kick your ass on a ‘beat the clock’ mise, chef.”

“Oooooh. Shots fired,” Sydney calls out, joining in on your friendly banter.

“Challenge accepted,” Marcus shoots back, almost instantly.

And then you’re scrambling to get as many prep containers and a kitchen scale, as you race your friend and mentee, all in good fun.

You’ve missed this.

It’s only been a few months since you started your new job – a culinary education director at a startup intent on building more sustainable food systems. While your heart would always be at the restaurant, you’d been ready to take on new challenges. The salary pay and benefits didn’t hurt either. You were happy taking a grown-up job, craving a little more stability and normalcy – and so that you and Carmy could stop paying out the ass for health insurance. Besides, you were still working with food. It just looked… well, a lotta different these days.

You’ve missed the fast pace of the kitchen, your people, and Carmy’s desire for excellence, but it’s not like those things have left your life either. You still have them.

After you’d left the restaurant, Marcus had taken over as the head pastry chef. In the last few months, you’ve watched him mentor and inspire a new group of wide-eyed, green, chefs-in-the-making, which had made you prouder than you’d ever have the words for.

You can smell the sharp-allium scent of onions, as Syd quarters them for her stock, and while you have several cartons of eggs and 00 flour, Marcus has gathered all the milk that you’d just purchased for today’s prep.

“Behind,” Carmy says. He passes you by with a few 5 qt storage containers stacked, as he hugs them to his body with one arm.

You feel his other hand place the gentlest touch on the small of your back as he leans in and whispers in your ear, “It’s good to have you back, chef.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to lean back to look at him.

“It’s good to be back, chef.”

He presses the gentlest, slow kiss to your lips, and it feels like time stops for a moment. As he pulls away from you, there’s a small smirk on his face as Sydney shouts, “Oh get a room, you two!”

“If we had the time…” he murmurs quietly, planting one more soft peck onto your lips. His face is still only inches away from yours. You giggle in response, the tender moment filling your heart with warmth.

“Speaking of time… I just bought Marcus a head start,” Carmy teases, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize what he’s doing.

You pull away from him, your head snapping towards Marcus’ direction to see that he’s already filled a 5 qt container to its capacity with one portion of the milk.

“Seriously? Damn it, Carmy!” you cry out, shaking your head. “This is sabotage!”

You hear Marcus laugh in the background and as Carmy walks away with a cheeky feeling of accomplishment. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Sorry, babe. You can deal with a little hazing, yeah? Since you’ve been gone for so long. Gotta give my guy a head start. ‘S only fair.”

“You’re such a dick,” you scowl, scrambling to catch up.

Oh it is so on.

By the time you’re done with your day one prep, the four of you head to the hotel. Luckily, it’s only a five minute walk away, and you’re grateful that the James Beard Foundation chose to partner with one so close. The four of you pull your suitcases down the streets of Greenwich Village, before arriving at the luxurious, vintage-inspired hotel.

You’re eager to get up to your room, as you haven’t had a shower, nor a time to take a break since you all arrived.

“Woah…” Carmy says, his brilliant blue eyes scanning the high end hotel room. “You sure we can afford this?”

You chuckle, “I think uh… they have a partnership with the James Beard Foundation, which is the only way I can answer your question with a ‘yes’ without having to tell you that we have to sell an arm, a leg, and our first born.”

He shoots a half smile in your direction before letting out a whistle as he looks around. The floor to ceiling windows feel way outside of anything you could afford, as Carmy spots the French doors that lead right out onto a terrace. As you continue to explore the rest of the room, you spot a huge tub in the bathroom – something you’re very eager to take advantage of.

“Power nap?” you ask Carmy, setting down your suitcase in the middle of the room.

You’ll put your things away later.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees eagerly.

You’ve barely put your book bag down before you’re both stripping off your jeans and climbing into the perfectly made hotel bed. After spending the morning traveling, you, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy had gotten off the plane at JFK and gone straight to the James Beard House in Greenwich. Not only had Carmy been antsy to see the kitchen and get a head start on prep, you hadn’t been able to check into your hotel till this afternoon. You’re both spent, and you know that Carmy’s been running himself ragged preparing for this once in a lifetime opportunity. He hasn’t been sleeping all that well either– his thoughts consumed with nailing down the perfect menu, while paralyzed with indecision.

His quest for perfection had made him irritable over the last few days. You could see that the pressure was getting to him. His appetite was down, he was picking fights with you about small, unnecessary things at home, and pushing Sydney (sometimes a little too hard) at the restaurant.

But today, he seems a little more in control of his feelings, and it puts him a little more at ease now that you’re finally in New York. He knows he’s been driving you crazy all week, and now that you’re all here, he’s hoping he can relax a little.

Now that you’re here, in the city.

Now that the dinner is only a day and a half away.

You’re hoping he’ll slow down at some point too – give himself a little time to enjoy how big of an accomplishment this is. At least by the end of the weekend. Frankly, you’re glad you’ll have Saturday to enjoy the city without any pressure.

For all of your sakes.

You’re surprised that Carmy falls asleep with you during your late afternoon nap. He’s been so wired, so high strung lately, but you’ve just been waiting for him to come back down. Now that it seems like he is, there’s no way in hell you’re going to wake him up. You’re curled up together when you wake, your back pressed against his chest, his arms enveloping you. It feels almost impossible to pry yourself out of his arms without waking him up, but his deep slumber confirms your suspicions and you’re more than willing to let him continue sleeping. It takes a few tries to slip out of his embrace, but you do, and it’s off to the bathroom to get ready for dinner.

You try to make as little noise as possible, but by the time you're out of the shower, and your hair has been blown dry, Carmy’s up. You can hear the hotel TV on as you exit the bathroom and see he’s put his jeans back on. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You notice that the dark circles under his eyes that have accumulated over the years seem to sit heavier this week, as his eyes flicker over towards you.

“Damn, my girl’s got style,” he compliments, checking out your all black-ensemble. “We really are back in New York, huh?”

You nod, grinning at his sweet compliment, as you sit down to slip your white sneakers on.

“You meetin’ up with Liz and Maya tonight?” he asks you.

“Yeah. Syd’s gonna join for a bit before her thing. She should uh… be here any minute, actually.” You begin tying up the shoelaces of one of your shoes, before slipping the other one on.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Nah I-, I'll see ‘em tomorrow right? But tell ‘em I say ‘hello’.”

“Of course. I think they’re both really looking forward to seeing you.”

You check the time on your phone making sure you have enough time, before you make your way to where Carmy sits on the edge of the bed.

“What’re you going to do tonight?” you ask, curiously, stopping so that your body is right in front of his.

“Well Marcus is staging at per se so… I’ll probably just hang out. Order room service or pick up a sandwich across the street. I wanna run through all this shit so tomorrow goes as well as it can,” Carmy answers, waving his notebook at you.

He’s like a man possessed, but it’s one of the many reasons you love him. You pull the notebook out of his hands tossing it somewhere on the bed behind you. You place your knees on each side of his hips, before settling down on top of him.

“Think you can relax a little tonight?”

He pulls you in, his arms moving over your hips. Carmy leans in, placing a small kiss against your glossy lips.

“Think you can help me with that?”

You giggle in response, twisting your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I think… that could be arranged.”

Before anything too spicy can happen, there’s a knock at the door and you know it’s Syd. Carmy groans as you pull away, falling back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat. You climb off of him, heading to answer the door.

“Hey, you ready?” Sydney asks, as you greet her.

“Yeah, let me just grab my phone,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in.

As she enters the hotel room, Carmy’s sitting up. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he leans over, resting his forearms on his legs as he runs a hand through his messy curls.

Sydney looks from you to a somewhat pouty Carmy, as if she knows she interrupted something.

“Staying in tonight, Carm?” she asks him, as you gather your things.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, and you can’t help but notice how tired he looks.

Sydney rolls her eyes in response, “Don’t worry. I’ll have her back by nine.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say with a smile as you address Sydney.

“You guys have fun,” Carmy nods, with a half assed wave.

“Don’t work too hard, boss,” Sydney adds, as the two of you turn to leave. “Oh and Carmy. You’ve got a little…” She gestures towards the lipstick you’ve left on his face.

You laugh in response, and as you close the door, Carmy can hear Sydney’s ‘oh my god, you two are like rabbits’ comment in the distance.

Carmy allows himself to fall back on the bed, reaching above his head to grab his notebook again. He’s honestly grateful to have a night to himself. He’s never been much for going out, or big social events, so having a night in feels like a good kind of calm before the storm – especially because the next few days will be full of social interactions. He’d always found New York City a little overstimulating.

Between the dinner and the reception on Saturday, Carmy felt like he was collapsing under the enormous pressure – his only out being excellence. It’s not just the fact that being invited to cook at the James Beard house was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but there’s important business to announce here too. And then there’s the social aspect of it all, and he can’t help but feel like there are high expectations: from the food world, his reputation, your old friends from New York. And he wants to make everyone happy – he wants to impress them all.

Something about being back here, and being back here with you, has him caught up in his head about it all. This is where you’d met. It’s also where he’d been at his lowest – right before Mikey died. So much has changed, and Carmy feels too large for his old battlefield.

Because that’s what it had been for him: a battlefield.

A battle for his mental health, to rise to the top of the New York City fine dining scene, fighting with his feelings for you.

Over the last two years, he had learned that he didn’t have to fight every single damn day. Some days he could just… be – be himself, whatever the fuck that meant, be a friend, and be with you. It felt strange – familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Being back here makes him somehow feel like the total loser he was six years ago when he first arrived in NYC… and a completely different person at the same time.

While he was over the moon when he got the call from the James Beard Foundation, he also couldn’t fight this uncomfortable feeling that’s been sitting in his stomach all week long. Carmy had never quite been able to come to terms with the whole ‘celebrity’ aspect of the food world. He knew what he could do in the kitchen. That was unquestionable. But the rest of it – the networking, the celebrity chef circles – was the part he felt most unsure about.

Ever since Sydney’s Rising Star win, he’d let her take center stage with her rising visibility in the culinary world. Actually, he’d been grateful that she was so good at it – that it seemed like she enjoyed the part of the job he hated. There was someone to take the pressure off of him – someone who thrived in front of the camera so that he didn’t have to. But he knows at some point this weekend, he’ll have to face the music.

There were big changes coming to The Bear.

It didn’t take long after the initial introductions for your friends to fawn over Sydney. They were more than happy to meet your friend they’d heard all about, and the incredible chef who was shaking up the Chicago food scene.

“Well I’m glad to hear that some things have changed and that working with Carmy’s not a total nightmare any longer-?” Liz concludes your conversation about the restaurant, earning an eye roll from Maya and a laugh from both you and Sydney.

“Oh no it’s still tough sometimes,” Sydney says back. “He has his days. We all do.”

“Liz!” you protest, in regards to the Carmy-bashing.

“What?! You didn’t have to work directly under him back then!” she defends herself, before clarifying with Sydney. “And in his defense, Sydney, it was really our exec chef who was the real nightmare.”

“Oh she works directly under him, alright,” Maya jokes, raising an eyebrow at you.

“And sometimes on top of him, and also-,” you quip back, ready to play along.

“Oh my god, you’re out of control and I am sick of you!” Sydney exclaims with a laugh in reference to your crass comment.

“So tell us more about the new restaurant,” Maya prompts, refocusing the conversation back to Sydney’s previous reveal.

Sydney tells your friends about The Bear’s plans to expand, and shares ideas she has that even you haven’t heard from Carmy yet. As she wraps up her story, she realizes what time it is, meaning that she’s gotta head uptown soon. She really only was supposed to stay for a glass of wine, but meeting your friends has been so fun that she’s lost track of time.

“Shit. I have to head out,” she says. “But I’ve really loved meeting you guys. You’re coming to the dinner tomorrow night, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Absolutely.”

“And the reception!” you add gleefully, so glad you get to see your best friends three days in a row.

“It’s been really great meeting you, Sydney,” Liz says, shooting you a look of approval. She squeezes your hand under the table momentarily, before saying, “Thanks for taking care of our girl. She speaks so highly of you.”

“Where are you off to next?” Maya asks, excitedly.

“Syd’s got dinner plans,” you answer, waiting for Sydney to provide more detail.

“Yeah, I uh-, I got invited to one of the To Be Hosted events and it just worked out that we’d be in town for this the same weekend,” Sydney replies, a glimmer of excitement flashing through her eyes as she shares.

“Damn, you got invited to a supper club?” Liz marvels. “Okay!”

“Yeah because she’s a rockstar,” you cheer your friend on, saying it so matter of factly that even a stranger would believe you.

You all say your goodbyes to Sydney before ordering food. It feels so good to be back in the city, back here with some of your best friends. Maya and Liz had been the friends that held you up, and you them, when you lived here. While you had met Liz at your last job, a sous chef under Carmy’s leadership, Maya worked in fashion and the two of you had become fast friends after meeting through an ex-boyfriend. Once you introduced the two of them to each other, the three of you had been inseparable ever since.

They had always been your biggest cheerleaders – especially when it came to you and Carmy.

“She’s great,” Maya says, in reference to Sydney.

“Right? I’m so excited for her. This is a huge deal: create her own menu, a chance to run kitchen without Carmy…” you agree, feeling deep satisfaction over the amazing people you have in your life. “We’re announcing the big news at the dinner tomorrow.”

“Speaking of, how is our favorite guy? What’s he up to tonight?” Maya asks, guiding the conversation back to Carmy.

“I told him he could come but I think he wanted to stay in tonight. I think he needs some time to decompress. He’s been pretty high strung all week,” you answer.

“Carmy? High strung?” Liz asks back sarcastically, earning a laugh from you. “I’m kidding! I really am looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.

Maya shakes her head, before taking a sip of her glass of wine. She’s always adored Carmy, but knows that Liz has a different relationship with him, having worked as a line cook.

“You guys are… getting serious, huh?” Liz asks, glancing over at you.

“Um.. I think those two were married after their first coffee date,” Maya adds.

“It was not a date!” you insist, shooting her a look.

Liz lets out an unconvinced laugh, and you accept defeat because you know they’ve always been right about you and Carmy.

“Maya, don’t forget. Our girl is and has always been the Queen of Denial,” Liz adds, winking in your direction.

“Oh ha-ha. You guys are so funny,” you reply dryly. You nod, thinking about you and Carmy’s relationship over the last few years. “Yeah uh… it’ll be three years in the Fall so… you could say it’s getting pretty serious.”

Your friends are beaming back at you in response to your admission, and while you’d love to spend all night talking about how head over heels you are for Carmy, you’re also kind of ready to shift the attention off of you and your relationship.

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you guys?” you change the subject.

It feels so good to catch up with your girl friends. You all agree to make it an early night. While Maya’s husband had agreed to put their kid to bed, she wants to make it home in time anyways. Liz has a date later, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped up dinner and are walking back to your hotel. You send Carmy a quick text, because you’re only a few blocks away.

You: On the way back.

New York City has always been so inspiring to you. The city itself feels alive – like there’s an electric undercurrent that always makes you feel so full. There’s never a dull moment, and it feels as if the potential for a wild adventure is always around the corner. It’s also the place that you and Carmy met, all those years ago. It’s funny. The version of you that met him six years ago never could’ve predicted this: that you’d actually get to be here together, after almost three years of loving each other fiercely.

Your friends were and always have been right about you.

Back then, you were Queen of Denial and even then, Carmy had been your king.

But you’re here now: in the city you met in, stupidly in love with the man you’d met six years ago who had seemed terrified to merely have a conversation with you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, interrupting your trip down memory lane, as you peek at the text you just received.

Carmy: Went out for a walk and a smoke.

You type back a quick, yet short reply.

You: Love you.

When you return to the hotel room, you enjoy the quiet of the evening. It still feels like spring in NYC, so you open a window because it just feels too damn good outside. No wonder he’d gone for a walk. You kick your shoes off, placing them gently by the door, before stripping off your jacket and heading into the bathroom.

As you pull your hair up and out of your face, piling it into one conglomerate on top of your head, you eye the large bathtub you’d admired earlier. Not only are you in need of a relaxing soak, but you’re hoping you can persuade Carmy to join you – maybe even help him destress a little. You don’t think twice about it, as you strip off all of your clothes, sliding on one of the fluffy robes that the hotel has provided. You flip on the hot water, the sound of rumbling water against tile hitting your ears.

There’s a bath soak in a glass jar that you find on the bathroom counter, before adding it to the increasingly hot water. While it looks like a mixture of some kind of soak and epsom salt, large bubbles begin to form underneath the rapid stream of the faucet, and you inhale deeply.

Lavender. Vanilla. Chamomile, maybe?

The smell puts you at ease and you can feel your shoulders melting away from your ears.

It’s not long before Carmy returns, the bathtub is almost at its capacity and the bath soak that you put in the hot water has bubbled up and blossomed into large, sudsy configurations. You’ve put on a jazz playlist, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald filling the small space as you hum along.

“Babe?” Carmy calls out to you, as you hear the front door close behind him.

“I’m in here,” you call to him, turning the volume of your phone down a few levels. .

You hear a shuffle of shoes, before he’s peeking around the door frame, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you. He knows it’s silly. It’s not like he’s been able to be very present over the last week, and it begins to dawn on him that he’s missed you.

“How was your walk?” you ask softly.

“Good.”

He looks around the bathroom, the air thick with humidity from the hot water. You turn the faucet off, as you’ve now filled the tub to its capacity.

“You look comfy.”

“I am. It’s a very comfy robe.”

You wait a beat before preparing your ask.

“Big tub,” you entice him, gesturing towards the bubble bath that awaits you.

“Yeah?” he asks, a half smile on the edges of his lips as he takes a step towards you.

“Big enough for two,” you nod, making your case.

It’s all the convincing he needs. You’re removing your robe, leaving your bare body on display for him to see, and soon enough, he’s stripping down and climbing into the bathtub with you. You share an awkward laugh as the two of you clumsily figure out how to position yourselves for optimal comfort. Your back is pressed against his chest, and you’re truly in awe of the large bathtub that somehow holds the both of you.

It becomes progressively easier for Carmy to relax. Between the hot water, and your naked body pressed against his, thoughts and worries about tomorrow begin to slip away. The two of you enjoy the quiet intimacy between you, the soft sounds of your favorite jazz standards, and Carmy’s lazily dragging his fingertips across any bit of exposed skin that he can.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, and Carmy buries his face in the crevice where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” he asks, in between leaving a few slow-paced, soft kisses across your shoulders.

“Hm?” you hum in response. From the way his mouth and hands move across your body, and the silky feeling of the hot water, you barely have a thought left in your head.

“This whole… bath thing,” he clarifies, exhaling a deep sigh.

This may be the most relaxed he’s felt all week and he likes that you seem to be enjoying this too.

“Probably because we have a tub that I can only assume was built for a small show dog,” you joke.

He laughs dryly.

“Fair enough.”

Carmy waits a beat before speaking again, enjoying how his mind has quieted for the first time in days.

“Let’s put it on the list… for when we’re ready to move to a new place,” he suggests, quietly.

“Somewhere with a big tub?” you ask, only sort of surprised by his request.

“Yeah.”

You turn your head to look at him, as Carmy presses a searing kiss to your lips. You feel his hand snake between your legs and you begin to understand exactly why he’s enjoying this whole bath thing.

“As much as I’m enjoying this…” he whispers against your lips. “Think you maybe want to get out of this tub…”

Another kiss.

“… dry off…”

You slide your tongue against his as his fingertips move higher up your inner thigh, earning a hiss of pleasure from you.

“…not put our clothes back on?”

And then he’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues his exploration. Your head is spinning, and it’s not just the hot water that makes you feel as if your soul was set aflame.

“Yes.”

The next morning, you wake up alone. On the bedside table there’s a note in Carmy’s scratchy handwriting that reads:

Couldn’t sleep. Went to Chelsea Market. Love you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. Last night had been incredible but you also knew it’d be back to the grind today. While you’re excited for him – and for tonight – you’re also kind of ready for this to be over. You’re ready to have your boyfriend back.

read: bonus smut scene | chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender

537 notes · View notes

captainmera · 2 months

Note

He looked into the galderstone. It’s blue shimmer allured him. Caleb stroked the surface of it. “I’d give anything to be alive and see her again.”

this line HURTS SO MUCH especially after all that has happened in ttocw RAAAAH /pos

Ok but seriously it so much fun to go back and read TGB (especially Caleb's arc) now that we've got to see so much of how you build his character nowadays

Man some lines just hit like an emotional train like These are not my hands.” He said, curling his fingers in. “This is my thumb. And my blood. But not my life. I wouldn’t rob Hunter of his life, I know what that’s like.” yeah that whole scene where Caleb was crying in hunters body got me rolling in tears /pos

All in all it was quite entertaining to watch goofball English-man argue with the children :)

I KNOW. 😭

Not me sitting over here all "how can I make this more tragic? :)" and then build Caleb up as someone who flip-flops between trying to live day-by-day and suicidal ideation, only to find hope and freedom and everything he ever wanted. And then the consequences of his deceits and lies catches up to him and he's murdered. And then he's a ghost who haunts his brother and lives inside the hearts of Grimwalkers made in his image ---

tgb spoilers beneath

SO I ASKED MYSELF, Y'KNOW??? HOW CAN I MAKE IT WORSE? oh, I KNOW!

What if he manages to manipulate his way to an unfinished grimwalker. And gets a new body. AYE????

THAT PLAN OF HIS, YEAH? GET A NEW BODY, AYE?? AND VENGEANCE???

AYE.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT, INNIT?

So he gets a body. Luz fights Belos, defeats him. That old bugger's still going and tries to run, aye?

But instead of killing him, y'know.. Because he's done a lot of harm and edited historical documents etc, his victims needs justice, aye?

And Caleb, who blames himself for being the trigger of events for leaving, for having raised Philip and subsequently turned his brother into this maniac, feels responsible.

Caleb, who wants retribution for being robbed of his life. but also justice for Evelyn and the realm he calls home, wanting to be put to justice for his own crimes as well as Philip's, which he views as an extension of his own.

He's in this half-finished grimwalker body. Open wounds and all, managed to stagger his way to the battleground, arrives post-defeat of Belos. And just as Belos is going to pull a last power-move, Caleb's there.

And manages to trick Belos into believing he's no longer bewitched, he's free. They can take down the realm together. Belos possess him.

with this spell I declare the pain to be shared.

and locks Belos into his galderstone heart forever.

That way, Philip got what he wanted - his brother back.

Caleb gets what he wanted - to "save" his brother but also bring him to justice to face his crimes.

Like this, Caleb asks to be sentenced, to be the "guard" of his brother and be his stand-in. As a responsible big brother, he lets "belos" go to court, encaged in Caleb's heart and only let out if allowed and even then Caleb. as both blueprint and grimwalker, has the final say in how long he gets to be out.

Caleb finally gets his peace by going to jail, and can help the boiling isles regain what Belos has taken away from them. Caleb was there after all, through the eyes of grimwalkers, he knows a thing or two.

There's two sentences.

One for Belos, aka Philip Wittebane. And one for his brother, Caleb Wittebane. They are conjoined for now, and the court doesn't agree with Caleb that he should suffer the same sentence as Belos. Though it cant be helped.

But as Caleb is in control, they make accommodations in his cell. Like for example he gets a TV, and a magical window he can look through but not break so he can see the island.

He gets visitation rights, too, and mandatory therapy.

Hunter and Luz visits a lot, and once the Clawthornes find out they're related, they visit too. Old friends of Caleb's like the batqueen, visits now and then too.

Caleb spends his days learning to read and write, helping Lilith and the new government find lost documents!

It is not difficult for him to stone sleep, and he does it more often than he should probably.

To him, this prison is basically just a nice extension of his previous prison in the galderstone heart.

But he dips down to his brother. They have things to talk about, to fight about, to argue and discuss. Philip has admitted defeat and gives the information Caleb is asking of him.

The brothers love one another, but both are resentful. So it's going to take a decade or few to see eye-to-eye. But Caleb is determined to make Philip understand he's done wrong and that this punishment is justified.

"The only reason you're not dead, Pip, is because my love for you triumph the hatred and anger I have for you. I cannot forgive you, not until you are truly sorry. I need you to repent. For once in your life, admit you're not the smartest in the room 'nor the most noble. You're not." "I-" "You are not! You are but human! We are human- We aren't perfect! By god, Pip, I am not the brother 'nor man you thought or wished I was. And you are delusional to think that you are any greater than the next flawed man." "..." "You have done great evil, Pip, and you can't even see it. I need you to see it." "... If what I've done is so evil, then know I did it for you." "Why do you think I'm here?" "..." "You fool." The colourful smokes wisps up into the starry skies. Caleb looks up at the endless moving, twinkling, cosmos. It is not a normal night sky, it reminds him a bit of that Collector child's magic. But perhaps that's just the Galderstone magic looking similar. He looks down at his pouting brother, he's changed form to his young adult self. His face all crinkled up with foul thoughts. Caleb sighs. Another argument leading nowhere. But someday he'd get through to him. Someday he would. The boy he once was, was in there, somewhere, or at least so Caleb hoped. But maybe that was just an older brother's wishful thinking. He did not want to give up hope on Philip changing his ways. Perhaps it would take another 400 years to do it, but they had the time. And it's not like Philip had anybody else than Caleb and the beasts to talk to. Artemis taps around in the sand. "Ah, yes, I see you are losing to Artemis' masterful game of tic-tac-toe." Philip glances at the sand and the little pebbles. Indeed, he kept losing to the palisman. He let out a grunt. "Don't feel bad, he wins against me too. And I've gamed him for 400 years." "Mh." "...Alright, well, good night, Pip." "..." And Caleb left. Opening his eyes to the quiet of his cell. It was a nice cell, like a little flat with no privacy if someone looked in through the bars. He turned on his pillow, his soft and pleasant pillow. And saw the photograph of Evelyn by his bedside. And smiled. What wonders the modern day could conjure, huh? They took out a memory of her from him, copied it, put his memory back in his head and let him keep this copy of her - amongst other photos that donned his walls. Nearly from floor to ceiling, there were photos of his past, of Hunter and his friends, his descendants. Some posters of things he liked from the human realm and the demon realm. But near his bed, like the star on a christmas tree, was a framed picture. His Evelyn. "Oh Ev, he's stubborn." But Evelyn's photograph didn't respond. "But so am I. And he is helping, although a bit less graciously as I'd hoped. But he is giving what I'm asking for at least, with some... Persuasion." Evelyn's photo was smiling sweetly at him, and he smiled back. "Lilith is coming tomorrow, with Hunter and Amity. What do you think I should wear? Mh? Blue shirt? Red shirt? I like the red one.. It has frills!" He got lost in her eyes and cuddled down. "Yeah.. Red one." He closed his eyes to dream. "G'night Ev." And as he slept, he had another one of those dreams where she played a lyre for him. They laughed, and talked, and played in the summers and winters of his dreams. An endless forest with golden lights, her laughter, and his cheeky grins. This dream was a summer. The tulips swayed in the breeze. Caleb liked to think those dreams were her ghost visiting him. After all, he'd been a ghost for centuries, he knew what they could do. Entering dreams were one of many perks. He had his hell in his galderheart, his heaven in his dreams. He was at peace.

#tgb #tgb spoilers #ttocw #mini-story at the bottom #cus I cant help myself

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septimusmoonlight · 3 months

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Anonymous: IK this sounds funny but here me out. A monster steals you from ur village be cuz ur simply too much for him to handle, he's fallen in love with ur simple human beauty. Now he takes you away to his cave and wants to get a lil spicy with you right? He's huge like massive, enormous and with a huge cock to match. He has a big scary voice but strangely enough he's kind. Even while he's fucking you roughly and animal like he praises you for taking his cock so well and comments on ur beauty.

Aw, what a sweetheart~

I’m wandering around in the outskirts of my village, where the dense forest starts to creep up on the outermost buildings. I’m simply taking a walk to clear my head, admiring the early-spring flowers and the mild chill in the air, before I get the sense that something might be wrong when I hear the underbrush to my left being frantically bulldozed through. I don’t have time to react before a big, scale-covered creature with beautiful curled horns, broad shoulders, dragon-like legs, and a tooth-filled snout crashes into me at full speed, picks me up, and then sprints back deep into the woods at a terrifying speed with me held close to its chest, dodging surprisingly nimbly around the trees for something of its size.

It - he? - finally slows down when we get back to its - his - lair: the space between two enormous boulders that are both more like small hills than lone rocks. The entrance is marked by two fallen trees leaning against each other over it, forming a tent-like structure and serving to make the door less visible to outsiders. When we get inside, he pulls another log up to the hole to close it with a single hand, still holding me in the other, which gives a good picture of the kind of strength I’d be dealing with if I decided to fight.

Then, he turns away from the entrance and lifts me to his face. To my surprise, though, he doesn’t open his maw to eat me; instead, he presses his snout to my lips, forcing a long tongue down my throat in what I realize is his version of a kiss. I choke and gag on the slimy appendage, caught off-guard - and unwillingly turned on.

“You,” he rumbles after he pulls his tongue out of my mouth, “are even more beautiful up close.”

I don’t even have the words for the amount of questions that his statement immediately floods my head with.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he continues, his voice deeper, primal, bigger than any human voice I’ve ever heard before. “I just had to have you. You were too bewitching a sight to let go, and your body and scent have haunted my dreams.” As a disoriented tangential thought, I find it interesting that creatures like this can actually dream - but that concept is gone a moment later when he starts tearing off my clothes. “There’s no need for you to wear these around me,” he says. “I want to see your naked form all the time, unobscured.”

I’m distantly flattered, but the primary thought going through my head is just what the fuck repeated over and over again.

“And now that I have you, I want to be able to have you whenever I want, without clothing in the way,” he growls more urgently. I look down, and I immediately see what he means - he’s sporting a massive, dripping hard-on, half-again the length of my forearm and as thick around as my thigh, with a tapered head. My first thought is the knowledge that he’s doing this to me without my consent, but my second is the knowledge that said non-consent is turning me on…and just looking at what he’s equipped with isn’t making things any better.

The monster inhales deeply, slowly through his nose, and I realize that he probably has a sharper sense of smell than any human - which means that he can probably tell that I’m getting wetter by the second. Like he’s confirming as much, he lowers me until I’m face-to-face with the evidence of his desire. “I can tell you like it,” he rumbles. “Go on, have a taste. It’s just a nice preview of what I’m going to do to you.”

I hesitate, but then - both turned on and scared of the monster’s enormous talons - I lean forward and catch a drop of precum from the side of his cock, dragging my tongue all the way up so that I can latch my lips around the very tip and get more of it into my mouth. It’s salty, strong, with a bitter aftertaste that somewhat lingers in the back of my mouth - but he has a smell, a musk that’s downright intoxicating.

He laughs, a strange sound to hear from something so clearly inhuman. “See, isn’t that nice? Now-” He puts me down on the floor and pins me in place with one hand, positioning himself with the other. “You’re already gorgeous, and I can only imagine you’ll make noises to match.”

He forces the tip into me, and I’m already stretched wide, even just this much wider than anything I’ve ever taken before. I arch my back as much as I can, the monster keeping me mostly immobile, and I cry out in surprise, pain, and an uncomfortable amount of pleasure.

“Oh, just like that,” the monster growls. “That’s so pretty, keep making sounds like that for me, beautiful little thing.” He slowly, slowly sinks himself deeper. “I’m hardly having to make an effort because you’re already so wet, taking me so well.” He shifts his hips slightly, then suddenly pushes into me much deeper. “Do you like it?”

He already told me that he can smell that I like it, and I manage to gasp as much - but the monster laughs quietly.

“I want to hear you say it,” he rumbles. “I want to hear your pretty voice breaking while you tell me how good it feels.”

I obey, telling him in a shaky voice interspersed with small yelps and whimpers that it feels good, it feels really good and I like how big he is.

“You like being small? You like taking something as big as me?” he asks. “You’re even more perfect than I imagined. I thought you would be a lot more opposed to this at first.” His hips finally meet mine, and it feels like he’s filling my entire torso and then some. “But this feels good?”

I’m struggling to put sentences together, but I still get enough of a hold on my words to say in a slightly-strangled voice that yes, it feels good, it feels so good, holy shit, please fuck me this feels so good oh fuck-

“That’s perfect, you’re so perfect.” He starts thrusting, but does not start slow. “I’m so happy that your pretty little body is mine, I’m so lucky that you can take me so well, so beautiful…”

He keeps showering me with compliments and praise even as he pounds into me over and over and over again. I can’t resist or even pretend to fight - I’ve completely lost control at this point, so I simply give in and moan for him, begging, pleading, my cries and howls of pleasure echoing from the cave walls, intertwined with the monster’s satisfied growls and grunts.

At one point, he finally puts enough force into his movements to break through my cervix and start fucking my womb directly. He hisses in pleasure, apparently appreciative of the new tightness - but his reaction is nothing compared to mine, an explosive orgasm that makes my legs shake and my eyes roll back in my head and my voice crack.

“You like me breaking you?” he breathes, his voice half-awed and half-rough with pure lust. “You’re absolutely incredible. Most other people would be scared or angry, but here you are, and I’m lucky enough to have you moaning on my cock.”

At this point, I can’t help myself - I tell him how good it feels, how badly I want him to break me, it feels so good, please fuck my womb, break me, please…

“I’ll be more than glad to,” he snarls, and speeds up his already-brutal pace.

As I scream in pleasure, my entire body quaking as he makes me cum again, I’m starting to think that maybe getting kidnapped isn’t so bad after all.

#Originally posted September 14th 2020 #asks #anonymous #my writing #nsft text #patreon.com/septimusmoonlight #monsters #kidnapping #size difference #praise #cervix penetration #stretching #long posts

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lxdymoon0357 · 1 year

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Hello can I get another part of magic dragons fix everything ..... like Lohan asks reader to marry her and be his empress after seeing her growing apart from him, but she refuses immediately and he thought she got someone else, not knowing about the rumors in the courts about reader being a witch and seducing Lohan with witchcraft and they argue. In the night this time when he come to her room not being able to sleep he saw reader hugging a dragon and telling it everything not knowing Lohan was listening everything.....

(ahhhhh! I love this so much! Part 1 || Part 2)

Lohan X Reader: Magic dragons fix everything! Pt.3

♱ the sounds of rain pattering on the window helped you relax your nerves a bit as you looked at the window, seeing the few servants below dancing in the rain or running around to do their duties, as your eyes fell on a couple in the garden where the guy was picking up his husband or boyfriend koala style and kissing him in the rain without anybody disturbing them….This sight made your eyes fill with tears when you realized your relationship would never be like this, where people wouldn’t butt into your relationship and try to tell you both that what you were doing is wrong how you don’t deserve your significant other and how you were bewitching them to fall in love with you as though they couldn’t possibly like you….

But now as you opened your drawer with the beautiful wedding ring which you rejected by you were requested to keep it with you by your lover, because they said,

“I bought this ring to say, I love you, and no matter whether you wanted to be with me or not, I want you to keep it with you because it compliments your beauty!”

With tears filling their eyes as you told them about ending your relationship with them right after they proposed…. And right after that you got into a huge argument with them over the fact that he saw you talking with another man….It wasn’t his fault; Lohan has his rights to be angry with you… I mean people did find you to be horrendous in the court, thinking you were a witch and though you could have told this to Lohan and stayed strong in the relationship, but you were done, you had been bearing this since the beginning of your relationship and you couldn’t do that anymore and yet still you were in a room at the imperial palace, the audacity of you…

Though the rain provided comfort with it’s cold and soft tears and drops, your cries with carried with it and softened down as you laid in bed and curled up into yourself and fell asleep soon…As you woke up late at night, you were hit with a wave of sadness and despair, as if sadness was waiting for you to conscious to hurt you again as tears filled your eyes, you don’t know how long or how badly you were crying until you found something wrap around your waist and you were pulled into something incredibly soft which smelt like candies and lavender with mint, that made your tears stop for a minute as you looked up to see a grey and blackish dragon with fur around its neck which you were putting your face into a second ago, the dragon had eyes very similar to yours, it was warm and comforting to be with the creature as it stared at you with its huge eyes and tilting and nodding his head as if asking what happened. You thought this would be the better way, like last time when you saw Lohan with a white one…

You began talking about how you met Lohan and how since the beginning of your relationship you were always harassed by the courtiers of Lohan’s palace…They would say, you’re a witch and you were using black magic to make Lohan fall in love with and soon you would kill him, take the throne and start a rule on them.. Then you started talking about how they tried to kill you and sometime even beat or cut you in order to take out their anger on you. And then Lohan proposed in front of the whole court, how he didn’t notice their angry stares was beyond you and then tears started pouring from your eyes, as you brushed them off the dragon’s fur, in which he growled surprised and fell back pulling you with it.

As you were giggling and annoying the dragon, you heard the door creak, making you and dragon whip your heads towards it, as the dragon began growling and baring it’s huge fangs, as it whipped its tail and wind immediately pushed the stalker in your room and onto your bed, the blood in your face ran out as the person who was watching you was Lohan, not only was he watching you with this dragon, he might have heard what you said…

You stood up and slowly creeped closer to the door, just before you walked out the dragon held you waist with its tail, as Lohan approached you, shushing you gently as he hugged you and sat on the bed with you beside him.

“I’m so sorry….Y/N, my dear, I promise, I didn’t know about this and wouldn’t have wanted you to go through something like this…I’m so sorry” Lohan said, as his eyes also filled with tears, as he cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, “Please, please forgive me, I didn’t want to yell at you or start that argument, I promise those people will pay for this…” Lohan said, as he eyes fell on a few bruises on your arms and legs, which he didn’t notice, how didn’t he notice them?!

As you both talked your feelings out with the dragon beside you, you found him with another dragon, licking its face and cuddling with it, as they both growled in a conversation, maybe as deep you and Lohan’s…

As you cuddled on the bed with Lohan, your fiancée, as the dragon and it’s fiancée / mate cuddled alongside you, you looking out the window watching the light spring of rain with the large shining moon, round like a bowl of milk, as you both watched and cuddled, soon falling asleep in each-other’s embrace…

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